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anotheronechicagobog · 3 years

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Rangers, Lead the Way

Written by: @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: Swearing, canon compliant violence, I had to use a lot of material from the actual episode, mention of domestic abuse

tagging: @detectiveinchicago

A/N: So, this is a new series. Basically, OA Zidan (FBI), Jay Halstead (Chicago PD), and Kenny Crosby (FBI: Most Wanted) all went to Ranger training together and kept in touch, something that was useful when they couldn’t be the one to keep their ‘partner’ safe and need to call one of the others for assistance when their ‘paartners’ are temporarily working with another member of the trio.

OA wasn't a name that he'd heard in a long time. They weren't in the same unit but they were in Rangers training together. Jay was one of the only two people there who didn't have it out for him solely because of his religion, while he was shocked to find a Muslim among the ranks at first, he quickly got over it. Not only did he trust that his superiors wouldn't let a terrorist into the army at all, let alone Ranger training, but OA was a U.S. citizen, and had a very personal hatred for everyone who sullied the name of Islam and used it for violence and their own personal gain. So he and Kenny Crosby befriended OA despite the shock and ignorance from their brothers and sisters in arms. They studied together, trained together, ate together, and bunked together. When they'd all been given different assignments they made sure to stay in touch. And they continued to call, email, and text each other after they'd all been discharged.

When Hailey got temporarily assigned to New York Jay was... Well, it's hard to describe how he felt. It was such a nightmarish combination of devastated, terrified, and heartbroken. It was like an icy hand had enclosed around his throat and was slowly squeezing, painfully closing his throat, all while his heart was being dissected out of his chest by another. Not only was he reliving one of the most traumatic moments of his life all over again, but Hailey was going to be in the field without him. She was going to be in danger without him there to watch her back.

And since Hailey was amazing, she could tell just by looking at him that his mind was dropping down into a dark place faster than Alice tumbled into Wonderland. "It's just temporary. And I'll be okay, Jay."

"Hailey..."

"I'm going to put in my time and come back as quickly as possible. It's okay. It's all going to be okay." Hailey's words didn't reassure him in the slightest. How could they, when they didn't even reassure Hailey?

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"Special Agent Zidan."

"Hey OA, it's Jay."

"Hey man, how are you?"

"Honestly, not great."

"What's wrong?"

"My- uh my partner..."

"Hailey Upton."

"Yeah. She's getting detailed out to the FBI for a bit. I found out that she's getting assigned to your unit."

"That makes sense, my partner's doing a UC detail right now, we'll probably be partnered together."

"OA... Watch out for her. Please. She is strong and more than capable of defending herself, and you quite frankly, but- she's my- I..."

"Don't worry, Jay. I'll have her back. She'll make it back to you."

"Thank you. Seriously, you have no idea how much this means to me."

OA looked at the now-empty desk that had been causing his heart to ache at the sight of it. His shoulder sagged at the pain that was pulling in his chest, the dark fog that filled his mind whenever he started to think, started to wonder, caused his head to throb. "Actually, I know exactly how you feel."

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"You will be partnered with Agent Zidan."

"Hi, I'm OA."

"Hi. Hailey."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Listen up, everyone. This is Detective Hailey Upton from Chicago PD. She will be with us for the next few weeks as part of our interagency training program."

"All right, so let's, uh, direct our attention to the screens here. Found the body of a young John Doe in St. Nicholas Park. A hundred yards from Alexander Hamilton's house. Federal land, federal case- and no, it is not where Aaron Burr shot him. The famed duel took place in-- anyone, anyone? Weehawken, New Jersey. Kristen knew. Unfortunately, there's far less clarity in the present homicide case. Evidence of torture and abuse, the victim was brown-skinned, but there was no other evidence of a hate crime. So let's dig in, get to work, start filling in the blanks. Yeah? Go."

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

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"So, Chicago PD? Should I be nervous?"

"Nervous?"

"You guys have been in the news a lot and not for good reasons."

"Uh, yeah, we've had some issues, but they're being addressed. It's a great place. I'm proud to be a part of it. The next time you want to insult me, just come out and say it, you don't need to disguise it as a compliment. This car right here?"

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just my way of saying we do things differently here."

"Mhmm."

"Just trying to keep it real." And keep you from getting hurt so that Halstead doesn't develop a full head of grey hair. "So, you spend much time in New York?"

"Nah, first time here."

"Any early observations?"

"Pizza's too thin. It's like a cracker with sauce on it. Just trying to keep it real."... Okay, so maybe it would've been nice if Jay had warned him that she had an axe to grind, but he could make do.

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"If I hear you're harassing any more immigrants, I'm gonna come back here, and I'm gonna break your arm. Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"I forwarded Kristen the pictures of Aman. She'll get us a street block number based on the license plates in the background."

"Just like that, huh?"

"The FBI, Upton. Our tech resources are pretty sick. Look, it's not a big deal, but now that you're working with us, just try and be a little bit more careful. If that guy Prichard calls the Bureau complaining that you threatened to use force..."

"Look, man, I don't need a lesson on how to talk to people, all right?"

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't get me wrong. I have no problem with someone breaking that idiot's arm, it's just... It's just that the Bureau is hardcore, and they take that stuff really seriously."

"You're right. I'm sorry. If he files a beef, I'll eat it and make sure you're clear. All right?"

"Appreciate that. But what the hell's a beef?"

"It's an expression."

"I'm kidding. Kristen said Aman's house is around this area."

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So, Hailey is a badass. That was pretty damn cool to witness. Sidenote; Jay is going to murder him.

Hailey was fine, more than fine, she actually saved his ass. But that didn't matter, Jay had trusted him to protect Hailey and hadn't failed, but he hadn't done the best job either.

They'd been searching a house, and after coming down the stairs he completely missed an assailant in the kitchen. But Hailey hadn't. No, she saw him and got him out of the line of fire. He provided cover fire while she jumped back over to the wall at the end of the stairs. OA tensed, more than usual when he was in a firefight unless Maggie was- nope, not going there, the point is, he didn't miss the way a bullet penetrated the wall a few centimetres from Hailey's head.

"Halstead."

"Don't be mad-"

"Oh god-"

"Hailey's fine. One-hundred percent fine, not even a scratch. We just, uh, we got into a shootout with an assailant. He got a shot off close to her head. She's fine- more than fine! I swear! She actually saved my ass in that altercation! And I was covering her the whole time!"

"... That's it? That's a pretty normal day for us, OA. She's okay, you're okay... So, everything, is... Okay. And seriously, thanks again, man. I can't even begin to tell you how much this means to me. I know that she can take care of herself and the others around her, but it's hard when I'm not the one there to have her six. So I really appreciate that I know and trust the person who is."

"Well, I'm glad that you're not gonna come at me like you did when I stole one of the cookies your mom made from your care package."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want a repeat of that."

"Plus, I know how it feels to... Not know. My partner is under right now and..."

"You're going out of your mind?"

"More than you can believe. I can't eat or sleep, and every time my phone buzzes I think it's a death notification instead of an emergency call from work."

"Sounds like you've got your own Hailey. You'll have to introduce me to Maggie one day."

"Yeah, I will. And Ken's definitely gonna have to introduce Hana. We have heard far too much about her to not even be able to put a face to the name."

"Tell me about it. Sometimes I regret our 'no search' rule, but then I remember how much we embarrass each other."

"By the way, thank you."

"Huh? For what?"

"For saving my ass back there. In the house."

"Oh. Okay. Cool. You're welcome."

"Halstead, how much do get shot at, exactly?"

"Why are you asking?"

"She pushed me out of the path of a bullet and when I thanked her afterwards she treated it like it was nothing."

"... I mean, there's not exactly a whole lot I can do about people trying to kill us..."

"Jay. Dude."

"I can try to stop being 'idiotically reckless' as Hailey calls it, but I'm not trying to be a hero or a dumbass or anything, it's just that... If it's not me getting hurt..."

"...It's her."

"Yeah."

"We're both whipped, aren't we?"

"Oh, ridiculously whipped. The desk Sergeant at my precinct is constantly making fun of me for it."

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"Just got ballistics back on the slugs fired at OA and Upton. They match the bullets that killed Aman, but get this; they also match the bullets pulled from a drive-by murder victim two months ago."

"Could they ID a suspect yet?"

"Yeah, arrested him too. Name is Santiago Gonzalez, known associate of the Latin Players. He's being held at MDC pending trial."

"Latin Players. That's a Chicago gang."

"Hmm, looks like they're expanding."

"So the Latin Players killed someone, they get arrested, go to jail, and the gun

stays on the street."

"And the new owner uses said gun to kill Aman, a studious Indian engineering student?"

"Right. What are we missing? How are these two murders connected?"

"Have OA and Upton pay a visit to Inmate Gonzalez. Maybe he can help us answer that question."

"Right."

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"So this guy, Gonzalez, is originally from Chicago. Runs with the Latin Players, so maybe you should take the lead on this one. But go hard on him." Hailey and Gonzales were from the same city, same blood, this was her turf, and OA wanted to make sure that he abided by that.

"You want a reaction?" Hailey seemed to get exactly what he meant, what he wanted, but she also seemed hesitant, like she needed more than clarification. It was like she needed permission.

"A big one. Big enough to force him to call his people."

"I think I can do that." And just like that, she had a smirk in her voice and was walking ahead of him. OA could see the wheels turning in her head and a coolness to her features let him know that she'd come up with a game plan. He didn't know if he should be afraid or not.

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"Where's the gun you used in the drive-by?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." They were less than a minute into the interrogation and he was already annoyed. Why did these guys always have to be so smug? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and just let Hailey do her thing, only popping in to keep the flow going. "One of your friends used it to kill a civilian last night."

"Used it again this afternoon on us. Fired off ten rounds."

"Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about." OA had to hold in a sigh.

"You're staring 20 to life on the case you're riding. Give us the name of the person you gave the gun to, and maybe I'll be able to get you a reduced sentence."

"Get my ass, blondie." OA quickly debated the pros and cons of stepping in. Honestly, this guy would probably just make him angrier with his smug attitude and sexist remarks, plus Hailey wasn't even phased. She was still in control, and she actually seemed a little... Bored.

"I'm not a fed like him. I'm Chicago police."

"So what?"

"Means I play by different rules. Also means I know the names of all the shot callers in the Latin Players. Tomorrow morning, we're gonna do a warrant sweep. Means a lot of people you know are gonna get arrested."

"That's not my problem."

"But it is. Because I'm gonna make sure that they know you are the snitch who gave them up."

"Now, you know nobody's gonna believe that."

"Really? Because in my experience, pissed-off bangers don't do their homework, and if they think you're a snitch, you're a snitch. In the street, rumours become facts like that."

"I'm done talking."

"Alright."

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"So you think he believed us?"

"I don't know. What?"

"Nothing, you just reminded me of my partner, Maggie, in there."

"Oh."

"In a good way."

"Then thank you."

"Can you cue up the audio feed?" The prison guard nodded back at OA and did as he asked.

"So where is your partner?"

"Uh, she is on an undercover assignment. That I know absolutely nothing about besides the fact that she is gone and unreachable."

"That's gotta be pretty tough."

"Yeah, but she's really good, so she'll be fine."

"We're up." The guard unmuted the computer and moved out of the way so that he and Hailey could see it clearly.

"Yo, just say the word, man. Chicago about to throw that heat."

"What are you talking about?"

Gonzalez sighed. "Police and FBI here sweating me, man."

"About what?"

"That piece that I left behind. I'm guess it's all connected to what happened on the night at Highbridge Park."

"All right, thanks for looking out."

"No doubt."

"Can you trace the number that he called?" OA was ansty, ready to get moving fast before their lead disappeared and from the honed in look in Hailey's eyes he could see she felt the same.

"Payphone up in Washington Heights." The prison guard was curt and efficient, exactly what they needed and OA was silently grateful.

"Okay. Thank you."

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"I'm guessing that's his girlfriend."

"Hold on. I talked to her at the park, right before we found Ernesto's body." From the way her body tensed OA could tell Hailey wasn't happy she'd let this girl slip through her fingers. He could tell her that it wasn't her fault, no one was even remotely aware of this connection, but he knew that was pointless. Any passionate law enforcement officer would beat themselves over something like this, himself included.

"Ah, and we have a hit off of social rec. Her name is Harper Quinlan, 23 years old, last known address is 84 Groton Street, Queens, New York."

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"Why were you at the park?" OA sat across from the young woman, dead set on getting all the information she knew. Arman's murder was quickly dissolving into a larger more horrifying crime and he was worried that the poor man who this had all started with would be forgotten and he didn't want to think about why that enraged him so much.

"I told you before. I was walking."

"Or was it to recover the glove that Lucas dropped after he killed his drug supplier?"

"I don't know anything about that."

"We have video of you in the driver's seat of Lucas' Range Rover at Highbridge Park the night that Lucas killed Ernesto Garcia, so you are now an official suspect in a murder investigation. That means no more lying, no more protecting your boyfriend. You either cooperate with us here and now, or you go to prison."

"I'm not gonna help you ruin Lucas' life. I just won't. He's a good person."

"Harper, good people don't sell drugs or kill people."

"Yeah, you don't know him like I do. He's so nice, and... he's sweet... He really loves me."

"Lucas isn't who you think he is, Harper. Protecting him will only get you and more innocent people hurt. Tell me why you think he was in the park that night."

"I'm not gonna help you."

"Are you listening to what I'm saying to you? You're a suspect in a murder investigation here. Lying to protect him makes this worse. You're putting more lives at risk. Be smart. Tell me why you were there that night. Harper, you don't need to go to prison for him." OA knew he wasn't getting anywhere and was trying to think of some other- any other method- to try and get Harper to talk, when Hailey burst into the room. She looked calculated, like she had a plan or idea that needed to be executed exactly or else the worst might befall those she was trying to protect. Which, if he read her character right, was everyone.

"Unlock it."

"What's going on?" Harper was just as confused as he was, but he knew better than to show it.

"Do it. Pull up your texts."

"Oh, my God."

"What does it say?" Hailey already knew, that much was obvious, but whatever was going on needed to be as brutally real as possible to Harper, and voicing it out loud would drive whatever was going on home for Harper.

"'Return the product, or he's dead. You have four hours. Tell your man to meet us at the place we did our first deal.' Oh, my- oh, my God." Harper's sobs quickly took up the space of the interrogation room, it didn't matter that she hadn't seen her father in so long, losing him would devastate her, and the Latin Players knew that well.

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

"Let me take a run at her. I might have an angle to play." OA watched Hailey carefully, trying to make out was she was thinking, what angle she could possibly have, but he hadn't known her nearly long enough for any of that. There was this... Knowing glint in her eyes, and a sort of dark confidence had taken over her aura. She was confident in whatever plan she had, obviously, he just had no way of predicting what it was. In that moment, OA could really see what made Jay all twisted over her. She didn't look excited to break the accomplice of a drug dealer, or eager to impress the FBI. She looked like she was ready to get elbow deep in someone else's mess just for the sake of protecting as many people as possible with her quick wit and razor-sharp intelligence. So he just inclined his head and got ready to watch her work from the other side of the glass.

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"You're in a tough place right now, Harper. We have video of you at the scene of a murder, which makes you an accessory. You're looking at 15 to 20 years in prison. But if you cooperate, we can help you. We'll talk to the prosecutor, explain why you were there, help him understand the nature of your relationship with Lucas."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know what's going on. He hurts you, doesn't he?"

"No. That's not true. He's a good guy-"

"No, he's not. What are those bruises on your neck? You tried to cover them up, but I can see them. When you first met, I bet he was great. You guys hit it off, you had fun. He was everything you wanted. But then he started chipping away at your friends and your family. So you pop a pill to numb the pain and tell yourself everything's okay, just hoping that the abuse is gonna stop. Harper. It won't. I talked to your dad. He loves you very much. And he needs you right now. He's in a lot of danger. If these guys don't get their drugs back, they will kill him. The only thing that matters now is you helping us to find Lucas, so we can recover the drugs and find your dad." Watching Hailey in the interrogation room really was something else. From the slight waver of her tone, the palpable understanding in her voice that seemed to wrap a crying Harper in the first hug she's had in a long time, he could tell that she was exposing a pain-filled part of herself to this- this girl, this accomplice in drug dealing and murder. And still, she was able to remain professional and in control, and OA could honestly say that her incredible ability to do her job both made his heart ache for her and impressed him far more than he thought she would.

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They were in the surveillance van, waiting for Harper and the SWAT team to get in to place. What OA was itching to ask her was highly personal. He did not expect her to feel comfortable talking to him about it, but she'd given Harper some of her strength and after revealing something so heart-wrenching, the protective Egyptian older brother in him needed to make sure that she'd left enough for herself. "So, how do you know so much about abuse? I am sorry, I did not mean anything by that."

"No, it's fine. It's all good. Everyone becomes a cop for a reason. I guess that's mine."

"Uh, yeah."

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"Don't forget, Harper. He wants the cash to get out of town, but we need the location where he first met his dealer. That's where your dad is." OA nodded along to Hailey's instruction, keeping a critical eye on the emotionally distraught Harper.

"Babe. They took my father."

"What are you talking about?"

"That guy that you deal with, they grabbed my father and texted me that they're gonna kill him unless we return the drugs that you took."

"Oh, no, no. I can't- I can't do that."

"They took my father!"

"Look, I feel bad, but they will kill me. Oh, Jesus, don't-"

"Lucas."

"Don't give me the sad eyes look."

"Lucas."

"I'm screwed. Look, I gotta look out for me- for us, you understand?"

"Look, I need to know where you and Ernesto did your first deal 'cause that's where they wanna meet."

"I just told you, I'm not going-"

"I will go! I'll call my uncle. He has a lot of money. Maybe I can negotiate a deal or something."

"I gotta get moving, all right, so give me the money."

"Where did you meet him?"

"Stay strong." Hailey could see her waver, could see her lose her ground and need someone to keep her steady. "Location first, then give him the money."

"Lucas. Lucas. Lucas!"

"I'll call you later on, all right?" Lucas, being the selfish douchebag that he is, grabs the bag of money and moves to book it, leaving his girlfriend who needs him behind.

"Damn it. Move in now!" OA sounded the call and immediately all agents left their posts and honed in on Lucas.

"Lucas!"

"You lying sack of..." Lucas, in an effort to prove that he really is a stellar guy, pulls out a gun and starts shooting at the agents, causing panic and fear in the civilians around them. Really, Harper? This guy?

"Get down! Get down!" Hailey pulled Harper out of the line of fire and pushed her to the ground before covering her with her own body, amazing OA with her selflessness yet again. You really picked a good one, Jay.

"Move, move!"

"Drop it!" Scola had joined them when Lucas went for the kill, forcing OA to do the same. Only OA was a good shot, though.

"Lucas! Lucas! Lucas! Lucas..." Harper couldn't stop calling for him, and OA was certain that the only reason she hadn't crawled over to his body was that Hailey was holding her in place. "It's okay." Hailey seemed to be stuck on repeat, comforting Harper. OA personally couldn't see how someone who had been abused would mourn their abuser... But then again, he thankfully had never had to suffer through that. Unlike Hailey.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------"Sounded like he was ready to hit the road, so I'm guessing his dope is close by. Nothing back here." OA went to the Range Rover with Scola to look for anything- finding the drugs would've been preferable, but as long as it was a tangible clue, they could call it a win.

"Yeah. There's nothing here either."

"Any luck?" Hailey approached them, her I-know-something-that-you-don't-but-don't-worry-I'll-tell-you plastered on her face.

"Nope. Nothing."

"You have the keys on you?"

"Yeah."

"Here, let me try something. Hop in. Shut the trunk." Hailey closed the driver's door, started the engine, pushed a button on the stereo and on the car door. A drawer illuminated by blue light opens, containing the missing drugs.

"I already pushed it. Nothing happened." Scola sounded mildly insulted, but OA just chuckled internally.

"Okay, Chicago." He was impressed, and he wasn't going to hide that. He was also going to give Jay a call later to tell him to ask her out already. There's no way a woman this amazing stays single for long.

"I have a CI who installs these things. Engine has to be on and doors closed in order for it to open."

"Okay, we got the dope. Now we just gotta figure out where to deliver it to."- OA

"Yep."

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"We have Lucas' texts from the phone he was carrying since Harper said he started doing business with the Latin Players about a month ago-" Kristen was leading their group of field agents and Jubal towards the front desks, explaining what she found, and while normally they would have totally enjoyed her explaining just how smart she is, things were a little time-sensitive.

"Yeah."

"We need to scrub that time period."

"There, on the 28th. There's a text that says, 'Meetings at 2. Let's do 9 instead of 8.'" One of the analysts pulled the info onto the computer screen in front of them, showing them the text records.

"'Let's do 9 instead of 8'? But the meeting's at 2:00. Is that some sort of code?" Jubal's mind was whirring away with Kristen's, figuring out exactly what it meant.

"Well, here's Lucas' GPS data from that day around that time." Kristen worked her magic so that Jubal could work his.

"All right, so from 1:37 to 3:12, he was in Brooklyn down by the river. Kris, can you zoom in? Get a more specific look at this. Yeah, over here. Can you drill down right there?"

"Okay."

"They met at 2:00 at a dock. Pier nine instead of pier eight. That's the meeting place." Scola voiced it out loud, like he was still in thought and hadn't had time to put all of the pieces in place internally first.

"There it is." Jubal's prideful voice made OA smirk.

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"We've got 67 minutes to get the drugs down to pier nine. Unfortunately, the guy we need to deliver the drugs is at the city morgue." Isobel voiced the dreadful obvious from her office, forcing them all to sigh and start their plan to catch Arman's killer from scratch.

"I'll go under as Lucas' friend. I'll give him the coke in exchange for Harper's dad." Hailey volunteered herself, but not with the same gusto she'd been working the entire case. Something was off and OA's 'spidey senses' were giving him no peace.

"No. These guys have done their homework. They're not gonna buy that." OA knew he made a good point, but he hoped that no one saw the way his shoulders went rigid.

"I get it, but I think I can pull it off."

"No, I agree with OA. It's too risky." Isobel agreed with him and OA felt like he could breathe again, he promised Jay that he'd watch her back, something he couldn't really do if he was watching her not with her. And if he were honest with himself, he'd become a little attached to her in the time they'd been partnered together, hoping that they would become friends.

"So we need a plan C."

"Let me do it. He's my father. I'm the one who got him into this awful situation. So let me do it. Let me do something meaningful. Something that will make me feel good about myself... Please. Gotta let me do it." Harper looked at Hailey, not even acknowledging the rest of the room.

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"You're gonna do great. Just follow the plan we laid out."

"He doesn't get the second bag until you see your father."

"Right. Got it."

"And if your dad's not at the meeting place, you tell the man to bring him there. He'll say no. You stand your ground." Hailey seemed to be offering more comforting advice.

"You have more leverage than you think. This dope is worth a lot of money, and that's all they really care about." While he seemed to be offering more calculated advice.

"It's okay to be nervous. They'd be suspicious if you weren't. You good?"

"I'm good."

"Okay."

"Okay. Here we go."

"Alpha team in position."

"Where's Lucas?" The gang leader, covered in tattoos was menacing as he approached.

"He sent me instead."

"And my product? There's only one kilo here."

"The other four are close by."

"Close by doesn't do me no good."

"Show me where my father is, and I'll get you the other four."

"Don't get cute with me, mama. I'll cut your throat. Go get my dope."

"Let's get ready to move in."

"No, no. Give her a chance."- Hailey was confident, but OA couldn't help but side-eye her. Wondering just what made her so sure.

"You trying to get your dad killed? 'Cause, that's what's happen if you keep playing."

"I need to see him."

"He's alive. I promise."

"I need proof."

"[whistles] Right over there, chica."

"Okay, we got eyes on the dad. We're good to go."

"Wait, wait, wait. Let's see if we can get him talking about Aman's murder. As soon as we see a weapon, we roll."

"Okay." OA knew that Hailey was smart, and she had been making great calls throughout this case, but he was still hesitant. An innocent man's life was in the balance, but he wanted justice for Arman too.

"Be a good girl, go get my dope. Do that, Big Papa walks. I'll go with you."

"So... So... How do I know you're not gonna kill me and my father once I give you the dope?"

"I don't kill civilians. Bad for business."

"You kill that Indian guy? He was a civilian."

"I try my best, but I'm not perfect, mama." Harper meekly retrieved the second bag from behind construction equipment.

"You did good, Harper." But 'good' wasn't enough for him. Suddenly a large silver gun was pointing at the middle of her forehead.

"FBI! Don't move!" OA lead the charge, coming out of hiding and announcing himself the second that they got confirmation that he murdered Arman they'd burst out of the van and beat SWAT to Harper, the Latin Players, and Harper's father.

"Drop your weapon now! Let me see your hands now! Put the gun on the ground! Step away! Put it down now!"

"Get on the ground! Get on the ground, now!"

"Dad!"

"Let me go! Dad! Dad! Dad!" Honestly, he didn't give the tearful father-daughter reunion much attention or thought, but he noticed that Hailey did, if only for a couple of seconds longer than necessary. He didn't know what to make of that, though.

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"Hey."

"I just filed my 302. Do you need help with yours?"

"Nah, I just finished."

"So, I have to admit, I wasn't so sure about you."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure about you either. But you're all right. For a fed."

"You wanna grab a beer?"

"I'm okay. You don't have to look after the new kid."

"I am pretty sure you don't need looking after. Come on, you saved my life. The least you can do is let me buy you a drink."

"For the tenth time, I didn't save your life. All right, let's grab a beer, but only if you tell me why you became a fed. I told you my reason. It's only fair you tell me yours."

"Deal."

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They didn't quite 'go out for a beer'. When OA heard Hailey's stomach throw a temper tantrum in the elevator he suggested going out for food that was accompanied by a beer. She'd agreed as long as they didn't go out for "crackers with sauce on them". OA had laughed, not even remotely or phased by Hailey's obsession with Chicago pizza. It's just another thing she shares with Jay. Besides, he wanted to take her somewhere else.

When they sat down Hailey looked around, taking it all in. Omar has been coming to this restaurant all his life. It had been open longer than he'd been alive, he'd even had his tenth birthday here. He hadn't brought Maggie here yet, not because he didn't think they were close enough, he just didn't know how she'd react to realizing that they are that close. "I hope you like Egyptian food."

"I've never had it, but I'm Greek and I know that there are a few shared foods and ingredients."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed Greek from 'Upton'."

"My parents changed it when they moved here, their name was too difficult for Americans to pronounce, and there was some... Other stuff."

"I'm familiar with 'other stuff'. Do you want any recommendations or need me to explain anything on the menu?"

"You know what? You can choose what I eat tonight. If I like what you pick, I won't tease you for it the rest of the time I'm here."

"Well, for the record-"

"What record?" Hailey laughed.

"For the record, I am completely confident in my knowledge of food so I know I'll find something you'll like. After all, it can't really be bad so long as it's not non-Chicago pizza. Right?"

OA ended up choosing a dish called 'kushari', it wasn't like the Chicago or Mediterranean food Hailey was used to but she'd loved it. OA was smiling at her, proud of his victory, Hailey rolled her eyes, smirking at his impishness. "Tell me about your partner." The question caught him off guard and for a moment he'd felt a significant crack in his walls, leaving him exposed. Suddenly all the feelings he'd been pushing back since Maggie went UC enveloped and starting drowning him. Fear gripped his heart, haunting curiousity stabbed his mind, and loneliness hooked onto his soul. "OA? We don't have to talk about her, I'm sorry I asked, I didn't mean to upset you."

"She's one of the most amazing people I know. She's smart, strong, generous, empathetic, courageous... She's honestly one of the most amazing people in my life and I love having her as my partner." Hailey looked at him the same way his sisters and mother did whenever he spoke about one of the most important people in his life. Like they were able to listen between his words and decipher another meaning to what he'd said. But like his mother, his sisters always gave him hell for it, she said nothing. I couldn't even dispute it if she did say anything.

"She sounds badass."

"She is. What about your partner? Tell me about them?" He'd narrowly averted saying 'him', unsure how she'd react if she knew just how close she and Jay really were, and just how much Jay had told him about her. She got this smitten grin on her face, and OA knew that the roles were reversed from a few moments ago when he had that same smirk and far off look in his eyes. "His name is Jay Halstead, and he's an amazing person, except for when he's getting himself shot, the reckless idiot. He would rather get shot at than get a needle which rattles me to no end, especially because he's so much more kind and intelligent than he gives himself credit for and we need him you know, alive, but still, I admire him so much. He makes me laugh and he just knows how to get to me, you know? I would... I would follow him anywhere. Wow... What is in this food? Truth serum? I'm not usually that open..." It was like he could literally see a forcefield shaping around her. Shrinking in on herself, her face hardening, hastily putting a forkful of food in her mouth. She looked at the wall behind him, pretending to be interested in the decorations, trying to pass off the slight panic in her eyes.

"Maybe it's just my charming demeanour, or that I got personal first, really personal. Or maybe it's because you needed to tell that to someone you don't see every day."

"Yeah. Maybe." She still wouldn't look at him and a tense silence enveloped them until she took a deep breath and shook herself. Light seemingly went off in her head before she gave him an absolutely devilish smirk. "I believe I was promised your origin story."

"Is that what we're calling it? An 'origin story'?"

"It is now."

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

"Halstead."

"Get your head out of your dumb ass and ask Hailey out."

"I- OA-"

"You won't regret it, Jay. I actually think that you will regret it if you don't."

"I just don't know if I'm ready to admit anything to myself, forget Hailey."

"When does life ever wait until you're ready, man? Neither of you work in a stable occupation, and even then the universe isn't exactly known for working on anyone else's timeline. I can literally feel you aching for her from here."

"But what if I'm not good enough."

"Oh, I've only known her for a few days and I already know that no one's good enough for her-"

"Damn have you adopted her as another honourary sibling? How many do you have now? And Hailey actually knows you've adopted her, right?"

"Not important, and don't try and change the subject."

"But if no one's good enough for her, then..."

"You're too hard on yourself Jay. No one's good enough for you either. Why shouldn't two people who are far too good for the world be together? You deserve happiness, Jay. You both do, and I think telling her that you're far gone with her would be a great start."

"Thanks, man. Really."

"No problem."

"... So you think that I'm 'far too good for the world'?"

"And now I'm regretting every word we've spoken." No I don't, but your head really doesn't to get bigger.

"Nope, no take-backs. You think that I'm badass and amazing."

"I never said 'badass' or 'amazing'."

"Jay Halstead- described as 'far too good for the world' by the humble and decorated OA Zidan-"

"I also called you a 'dumbass' but whatever, goodnight Jay. And seriously, ask Hailey out."

#One Chicago #Chicago PD #hailey upton #hailey x jay #jay halstead x hailey upton #upstead #upstead fic #jay halstead #OA Zidan #maggie bell #oa zidan x maggie bell #zibell #fbi cbs

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isitgintimeyet · 4 years

Text

Just a Friend

Hope you enjoy the next chapter of this story. Thanks to you all for reading this. You comments are lovely to read.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

AO3

Chapter 5: From Facebook to Friends

When I was a little girl, Uncle Lamb would sometimes take me into university with him. I would creep into the lecture theatre and sit at the back watching him as he enthused about Phoenician trade routes, or long gone military strategies. I didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but I loved it anyway. The passion he had for his subject matter thrilled me.

And once the lecture was over, I would join him in his office and we would squeeze together in an old armchair, drinking hot, sweet tea while he tried to explain the principles of a three thousand year old civilisation in words a seven year old would understand.

The armchair is now in my office at the hospital. It looks more than a bit incongruous amongst the standard NHS furniture. The rich green velvet fabric has faded to a shabby eau de nil colour and years of shuffling bottoms have left a large depression in the seat cushion. But I won’t have it reupholstered. I love it as it is. It’s a great reminder of my wonderful uncle. I sit in it and somehow it comforts me, like a soothing hug.

**********************

I glance at the clock as I walk into my office, paper cup of hot, sweet tea in hand, and head straight for Lamb’s chair. Gratefully, I sink into its depths and take a tentative sip of the steaming liquid before closing my eyes for a moment. The surgery was long; much longer than anticipated—having taken all morning and most of the afternoon, in fact. It had also been far more complicated—my original plans for keyhole surgery had to be changed, but, eventually, we completed the operation successfully. I’m always proud of my theatre team, but never more so than in situations like this.

And now, after hours of concentration, I feel in need of some light relief. I can go home, have a wonderfully reviving shower and then what? I know that Dougal is taking Geillis out for a meal tonight, so she’s not available. Mary and Anna are both working nights this week, so no joy there. Other friends live too far away for an impromptu midweek activity. I could go to the gym. I should go to the gym. Or… more likely, I’ll go home, have cheese on toast, a glass of wine and watch ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ for the fifteenth time instead.

I reach for my phone to check for messages. A notification for a Facebook friend request appears on my screen. I very rarely get new friend requests—other than the odd random gentleman hoping, I presume, to make some sort of connection. I always delete immediately.

And, yes, the request is from a gentleman—one Jamie Fraser. The profile picture is definitely Samsonite Jamie, even wearing the Scotland rugby shirt I fingered whilst foraging through his suitcase. I click accept. Why not? I don’t think I have anything too embarrassing on my posts. In fact, I don’t use it very often at all.

Neither, it seems, does Mr. Fraser. His cover photo shows a very youthful bunch of Scottish rugby supporters and his recent timeline seems to comprise mostly of being tagged in photos by Laoghaire Mackenzie. Is it my imagination, or does he have a resigned look on his face on each of their ‘selfies’?

My tea is cool enough to drink now without scalding my tongue. I put my phone down and take a large gulp whilst considering tomorrow’s workload. My job is a series of highs and lows. Today, for example, started as routine, slumped to a worrying low, before peaking at a very relieved high. Tomorrow appears to be an easier day, certainly—a review of patients’ case notes in the morning followed by an outpatient clinic in the afternoon. All follow up patients, and all doing well as far as I know, so tomorrow is shaping up to be a very good day.

I open up my phone again. Facebook messenger is encouraging me to ‘say hi to your new Facebook friend.’ Without thinking, I send a little waving hand emoji to Samsonite Jamie.

I have no sooner put the phone down than it pings. Waving hand returned. I smile. What are we… thirteen years old? Next I’ll be asking him out for an Irn Bru and a bag of chips.

Ping again.

You owe me…

Shit! The stain on his t-shirt, no doubt. I watch the dots on the screen. Perhaps he’s calculating the cost of a dry cleaner, or a new t-shirt.

You promised me an ice cream.

You up for buying one for me tonight?

I hesitate for a moment. I hope Jamie doesn’t think I’m after him or anything like that. I mean, he’s not really my type. As I’ve said before, I’ve always been attracted to academic, cerebral kind of men like Uncle Lamb, rather than Viking marauders.

And I’ve never subscribed to the idea that men and women can’t be friends. One of my closest friends at university was a man—Joe Abernathy. If it wasn't for the fact that he is currently three thousand miles away, working in Boston, I would be arranging platonic ice cream outings with him.

So, deciding I have nothing to lose, I type my response.

If you can get to the kiosk by 6:30, it should still be open

A brief pause, then the response.

Great. See you there?

****************

Even at a distance, I recognise him sitting at a table next to the kiosk. No white t-shirt today, it looks like some sort of check lumberjack shirt. I breathe a sigh of relief. Not what I would call ‘first date’ clothing. Which is handy, seeing as I’m wearing ripped jeans and an oversized Aran jumper. I’m clean, presentable and fresh-smelling but definitely not dressed to impress.

He stands up when he sees me and greets me formally with a handshake. His hands are warm and dry—no nervous, sweaty palms here, which is another good sign. His shirt is blue, red and cream flannel and actually quite hideous.

“I hope this ice cream lives up tae ma expectations,” he says with the merest hint of challenge.

I crane my neck and look him straight in the eye. “No doubt at all. Cherry bakewell, is it? Double cone?”

“Aye. With a flake too. Compensation, ye ken.”

He stands aside to allow me to make the purchases. Before accepting the cone, he picks up half a dozen or so paper napkins and stuffs them in the pocket of his jeans.

“I’m prepared fer ye now. Do yer worst, Ms Beauchamp.”

I ignore his clear inference and follow him to a nearby bench.

“I can manage to eat and walk at the same time, you know,” I say in mock indignation.

“Hm,” he replies. “All the evidence sae far suggests the contrary. I need proof afore I believe it.”

There’s a moment of silence as we both focus on our ice creams. I lick neatly all the way around, trying to prevent any rogue drips trickling down the cone. Jamie pulls the flake from his cone and consumes it in two mouthfuls. He looks at me and laughs.

“Caught me. I’m a bit of a bugger fer chocolate,” he mumbles before swallowing.

“Right,” he continues, much more clearly now. “I suggest we get all the boring stuff out of the way. Ye ken, name, age, family, job, blah, blah blah. I’ll go first, if ye like.”

I nod my agreement.

“Sae, I’m James or Jamie Fraser. I’m thirty years old. Since our last conversation I am most definitely single. I live in Glasgow, obviously, but grew up on a farm near Inverness. My parents still run the farm. I have one sister, Jenny, who’s married tae Ian, my childhood friend. I have one nephew—a grand little lad known as Wee Jamie and a wee baby niece, Maggie . And I dinna think it’ll be long afore they’re joined by others. They all live here in Glasgow. My job, weel, I have a business—FraserFood—recipe boxes delivered tae yer door.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that. ‘From farm to fork.” That’s you, is it?”

He smiles proudly. “Aye, it’s me and ma family. Looks like ma marketing manager is doing a fine job, then.”

“Oh, forgot tae say, after the blah blah, ye have tae tell one confession. Only a wee one, mind.” He takes a large mouthful of his ice cream.

I purse my lips. “Really, and what if I’ve nothing to confess?”

Jamie snorts with laughter and does a funny sort of blink, screwing up his face and closing both eyes. Is he trying to wink? If so, he’s failing miserably. I try to look angelic and sin free. Judging by the look of scepticism on his face, It doesn’t seem to be working.

“Sae, my confession is, dah-dah-daaaah,” he does a fake fanfare, trying to build suspense. “I wanted tae be yer friend on Facebook because I wanted tae see if there were any photos of ye in Barcelona, with all yer...er… accessories.”

I feel myself redden. I’ve just remembered catching Geillis on Facebook the other day at work and I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming next.

“Verra interesting… in particular, the one with ye and six penis shot glasses. How d’ye manage tae get two of them in yer mouth at the same time?”

I inwardly curse Geillis and her desire to live her life through social media.

“Excuse me,” I reply somewhat primly. “I don’t think we’re at the Q and A stage yet.”

“So,” I continue in a lighter tone. “Me. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I’m thirty two and I’m a paediatric orthopaedic surgeon, here at the children’s hospital. I love my job so much, I can’t begin to tell you. As of two weeks ago, I am thankfully single. I was born in Oxford and moved up here when I was twelve, when my Uncle Lamb became a professor at the university. He brought me up, you know. Raised me when my parents died in a car accident... I… er...I was four at the time.”

I can feel Jamie looking at me, but I can’t raise my eyes. Telling people about my parents never gets any easier, no matter how many times I say those words. I concentrate on picking bits of wafer off my cone and throwing them to the ducks loitering nearby, waiting for some sort of treat.

“So it always was just my uncle and me.” I carry on talking. “Then he died… seven...seven years ago…” I can hear my voice start to crack as I fight back tears. A hand creeps into my vision and I gratefully accept the proffered paper napkin and wipe my face.

“Och, lass.” He says softly.

I clear my throat. “I'm sorry. We were having a nice conversation and then there I go, getting all teary. It’s just, well, we were a team, Uncle Lamb and I… the two musketeers. He was my hero.”

Blowing my nose in a most unladylike way, I toss the napkin into the neighbouring bin.

“And that’s pretty much me. As for a confession, well… I suppose it’s kind of one.”

He raises one eyebrow quizzically, making a better job of that than the whole winking lark, I think.

"Ok, well, when I had your case, I tried to ring before I emailed you. I called the number in your case… twice. A woman answered and told me I had the wrong number—"

"Laoghaire."

"I know that now. But she obviously knew how to get onto your phone."

"Why did ye no' tell me?" He smiles as he says this. It's not a reprimand.

"I would have but you seemed to be coming to a conclusion anyway. No need to add more fuel to the fire."

"Happen ye're right."

He notices me shivering and gets to his feet. “Aye, there’s a bit of a chill. Fancy a wee walk tae warm up and we can carry on wi’ round two. It’s a quick fire round.”

I stand up and we move away from the pond. The ducks have already lost interest in us since they realise that we’ve nothing more to offer them. It’s pretty quiet in the park now, the cooler evening air seems to have kept people at home. The gravel crunching loudly under the soles of our shoes, I glance down and notice Jamie’s doing a sort of awkward stuttering movement with his feet. He’s clearly trying to match his stride pattern to mine. Which isn’t easy when his must be a good few inches longer than mine. Nice, considerate gesture, though.

“Sae, quick fire questions and answers. Ye can go first,” he says generously.

It only takes me a moment to think of a question that I have been wondering about ever since I explored the contents of his suitcase.

“What were you doing in Barcelona? I mean the contents of your case weren’t really fun-weekend-away stuff.”

“Nah, ye’re right. It wasna a holiday—flying visit only. I was there on business—talking tae a food wholesale company. Serrano ham, chorizo, saffron, that kind of thing,” he explains, a look of excitement on his face. “We’re expanding our range, starting with Spanish influenced recipes. A full three courses ready tae prepare, plus wine delivered straight tae yer door. Dinner party FraserFood style.”

He can’t stop smiling as he talks about these plans. And his hands move animatedly as he continues to elaborate on his new venture. His business is obviously his passion. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t got the desire for a relationship with a girlfriend—FraserFood seems to be his one love. No girl could compete.

He stops talking for a moment. “And here I am, boring ye.”

I shake my head. “Not at all, it’s really interesting.” I don’t have to lie. It’s the truth. My mouth is watering at his description of albondigas and flavoursome chicken and chorizo with cannellini beans. I’m ready to sign up for this delivery service any time.

“Sae, ma turn tae ask a question. Tell me, d’ye like this shirt?”

I try to stifle a laugh. The question is so unexpected and the shirt so awful. Trying to be diplomatic, I search for the right words, evading the actual question. “I’ve only seen you in white tops before, no colours.”

He sighs. “Ye’ve only seen me twice afore... anyway I dinna think ye need tae say any more. I ken ye’re being polite, but ye’re a terrible liar. I can tell by yer face ye dinna like this shirt. Laoghaire hated it, always made me change it. I did wonder if that was jes’ her being difficult. But apparently no’.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Ye dinna need tae apologise, Claire. Being honest is a good thing, is it no’? And friends should always tell each other the truth. And that’s what I think we’re going tae be, Claire— friends. D’ye no’ agree?”

I crane my neck and look Jamie straight in the eye. “Yes, I do… friends.”

#outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #Just a Friend #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Chapter 5

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queenbirbs · 3 years

Text

the open door | Ethan x MC

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC

Warnings: swearing, some brief mentions of corpses and body horror, spooks and possible spectres

Word count: 7.7k

Premise: Bryce invites Sloane, Sienna, and Aurora on a tour of a haunted estate on the night before Halloween. What could go wrong?

Notes: I’m super bummed that we didn’t get a Halloween-themed chapter for this book, especially since it’s my favorite holiday. Takes place post chapter 11, though I’ve played with the timeline a bit to include Halloween. Re-post because it fell out of the tag, as posts seem to want to do as of late.

Taglist: @maurine07 @caseyvalentineramsey

------

“You are aware there’s no such thing as witches, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Bryce scoffs. “Maybe. Besides, I said she was rumored to be a witch. That’s a whole different thing.”

“Oh, right, of course it is.” In the backseat, Aurora rolls her eyes. “Just tell that to all the people killed during the Salem witch trials due to mass hysteria.”

“Hey, now -- it’s not like she was killed for being a witch.”

“Right. She pulled a classic Rose for Emily,” Sloane mutters while Sienna makes a gagging noise.

“What?” Bryce asks.

“It’s a short story by Faulkner.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief pause. Sloane wonders if he even knows who that is. Then: “Is he the dude that had a hard-on for the Civil War?”

“Yeah,” Aurora snorts. “Basically.”

“Yeah, never read any of his stuff. I think I used SparkNotes for one of his books in undergrad.”

“Same,” Sloane admits, to which Bryce shoots her a look of faux-surprise. “Yeah, yeah, we all had to skate by sometimes.”

“Well, well, well,” he crows. “Looks like the ‘next generation of medicine’ isn’t so high and mighty after all, huh?”

“Wait, how did you--”

“Ramsey was four drinks deep at Donahue’s the other day, and one of the interns came up and bothered him about a possible spot on the team. Which meant we all overheard the twenty-minute spiel about what a great doctor you are.” He snickers as she puts a hand over her face and groans. “Yeah, it was real sweet. Real obvious, but sweet.”

She’s saved by the GPS on her phone, cutting through the music playing over the car speakers; Bryce takes the next exit as instructed. The off-ramp spits them out onto a two-lane county road. Posted across from the solitary stop sign, the blue services sign offers nothing but blank, white squares.

“There’s a bathroom, right?” Sienna asks. “Because I’m not seeing a gas station.”

“It’s a house, you guys,” Bryce scoffs, “not a cave.”

“A haunted house,” she clarifies.

“Well, I mean, I don’t think the toilets are haunted.”

For several miles, there’s nothing but sweeping woodlands and the occasional passing car. Long squiggles of tar decorate the asphalt, snaking across the empty, leaf-strewn road. The setting sun casts a golden hue over everything, spears of light cutting through the tree trunks. It would be a nice, evening drive if it weren’t for where they were headed.

Forty minutes north of Boston lies the small, nondescript town of Angler. Even under the cover of dusk, Sloane can tell that it’s one of those towns. Pretty Tudors line the main street, their porches decorated with smiling scarecrows sitting on bales of hay; banners along the telephone poles advertise the annual apple festival. The bank and the post office and the dry cleaners are all tucked together in the refurbished general store. It’s the stereotypical, pleasant, all-American town. Which means that it’s the perfect place to hide a dark stain of history.

Why Bryce signed up for such a thing and how he won the tickets is beyond her. When he asked them all to join him for a haunted house, Sloane expected the typical theme: some dingy warehouse refurbished enough to meet modern building codes, full of tight mazes and masked actors with chainsaws.

“Nah, guys, this is the real deal,” he gloated over lunch the previous afternoon. “Back in the 1800s, this woman -- uhh Margaret, or Maggie, I think, yeah Maggie Angler -- she was one of the Boston Brahmins, owned this estate out in the country, blah blah blah. No one knows a whole lot about her because she was a little weird and she kept to herself. At some point, this dude woos her and they get married. But then, a few years later, he dies. Neighbors drop by to offer casseroles or whatever, but she won’t answer the door, so they give up and leave her alone. A few months go by, and suddenly this dude from town goes missing. Then a year, and another goes missing. This continues for several years and--”

“So, what, she’s some kind of black widow?” Elijah asked.

“No, this isn’t one of those Marvel--” Bryce’s brow furrowed and then lifted, realization striking his handsome face. “--oh, heh, yeah, sorry. But yeah, sort of. It wasn’t until word got around that the latest dude was seen talking to Maggie at the store that people got suspicious of her. So, they gather up some people and storm the house, where they find a Satanic Bible and other spooky shit. But that’s not the only thing they find.”

They all glance around at each other, waiting to see who will encourage Bryce to break his silence and finish the damn story. “They also find... the missing dudes.”

“What, buried in the backyard?” Sloane asked, and frowned when Bryce shook his head.

“No, not buried. She killed them and then kept them in the house. Supposedly, they were posed at the table or sitting on the couch, rotting away.”

Sienna made a show of pushing her plate away. “That’s disgusting.”

“I know there’s a group of people in Indonesia that keep their dead relatives at home,” Aurora said, “but they’re preserved and cared for. This doesn’t sound like that.”

“Nope.” Elijah shook his head. “Definitely not the same thing.”

“What happened to the woman?” Sloane asked.

“No idea -- get this: they never found her.” Bryce lifted his eyebrows for dramatic effect. “But the story goes that she still haunts the place, searching for her lost lovers, and maybe… trying to get some new ones.”

Jackie, who had been busy scrolling away on her phone through the tale, snorted into her salad.

“And you want us to come with you to some evil witch’s house on the night before Halloween to go ghost hunting? I may not believe in any of this shit, but no fucking way.”

“Yeah,” Elijah sighed, cringing at the crestfallen look on Bryce’s face. “Sorry dude, but I’ll pass. My idea of fun is a John Carpenter movie marathon, not a tour around Jane the Ripper’s house.”

“Okay, understood.” With that, Bryce looked to the remaining three and turned on the charm, draping his arm across Sloane’s shoulders. “C’mon, ladies, whaddaya say? Hard to pass up the prospect of touring a bona fide haunted mansion with one of the most handsome men you know -- second only to Elijah here.”

Tapping at her chin, Sienna nodded and grinned. “Sounds fun. I like scary things.”

Aurora, on the other hand, shot him a skeptical look. “Are you going to shout at the air and act like you’re possessed, like I’ve seen that one ghost hunter do on TV? The one with the spiky hair?” she demanded to know.

“Uhhh no to all of those things, but especially to the spiky hair.”

“Okay, then,” she shrugged, “I’ll go.”

Every eye at the table turned to Sloane; Bryce squeezed her shoulder in encouragement.

“Alright,” she agreed. “It’d be fun to get spooked, I guess. I’m down.”

Which is how she comes to be in the passenger seat of Bryce’s car, leaning forward onto the dashboard as they take the final turn onto a hidden lane. A thick tunnel of trees swallows them up as they drive deeper into the woods. After several miles, there’s a break in the pines, and then: sprawled atop a hill, looming above them, is the house. Even if she hadn’t heard the backstory, Sloane feels like the place would still give her the creeps. With its filmy lace curtains and its tall windows glowing yellow in the approaching darkness, the house looks like it’s been pulled from an Edward Hopper painting. Worn pavers lead from the semi-circular driveway and up to the front porch. Framing either side of the steps, thin, brittle blades of tufted hairgrass shift in the wind. Two people turn from the front door and raise a hand in greeting.

Bryce kills the engine and twists around in his seat to grin at his compatriots.

“You guys ready to get scaaaared?”

Sienna wraps her hands around Sloane’s seat and leans forward, her eyes wide as she stares out the windshield.

“Why does it look like The Amityville Horror house?”

“Is this a bad time to mention that the Blair Witch Project’s producers used this place as inspiration?”

“Yeah,” she hisses, “definitely a bad time.”

Shouldering open her door, Sloane lets in the cool October air in an attempt to corral their attention. It works; the rest of them pile out of the car with her and approach the couple.

As the current owners of the property, Jack and Nancy Bell guide them through the main floor of the house, pointing out spots of reported activity. The interior is lovely -- one of those Sloane would see in a Pictagram post of a wedding venue, with all those carved banisters and original wainscoting. Her brother, a successful carpenter in the Twin Cities, would have a field day in here. Most of the furniture is original to the house, as well, and in surprisingly good condition.

The only aspect setting the house apart from any other on the historical registry are the props. In the front hall, a bulletin board hosts an array of newspaper clippings. The earlier articles blame a serial killer, dubbed the ‘Butcher of Angler,’ for the mens’ disappearances. Then, starting on October 28th, 1892, the headlines change to the ‘Wicked Witch of Winthrope County.’ In the drawing room sits an Ouija board, surrounded by melted candles. A cauldron and a Satanic Bible share space on the kitchen counter; corked bottles of what look like cooking spices and herbs clutter the open cabinets. Mannequins lounge at the dining table or on the sofa, dressed in dusty clothes, their jaws slack, their painted eyes still and dull. Beside them, framed in cheap plastic, are the grainy photographs of the corpses as they were found. To Sloane, it all feels hokey, like a regular haunted house with the strobe lights turned off.

There’s something else, though, something underneath the fine layer of dust and the creaking floorboards and the shrouded furniture. It skitters across her neck and down her back, making her shiver, which she discounts as a wayward draft in the old house.

It’s the distinct feeling of being watched.

“Aside from the big house, there’s a carriage house to the left there. We rent it out in the summer and fall for overnight stays.” Jack gestures to the east as they step out onto the back veranda, where, just beyond the slope of lawn, a smaller house sits with a solitary porch light glowing. “And back down the path there will lead you to the lake. When we bought the place, the deed stated that there was a cabin out near the state park line, but we’ve never been able to find evidence of it.”

“Maggie’s been seen down by the lake, too,” Nancy chimes in. “People say they see her there, inside the boathouse, or walking along the shore with her head down, as if she’s searching for something.”

“We’ve got lanterns here if you want to use them as you go about the grounds, though you’re welcome to use your flashlights.” Jack nudges a neat row of antique lanterns with his sneaker. “For the optimal experience, though, we recommend turning off all the inside lights and using secondary light sources instead.” He chuckles when Sienna makes a throaty noise of dissent.

The couple leads them back through the house and into the front hall to finish the tour. While Jack goes over the various rules, Nancy motions for Sloane to follow her out onto the front porch.

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of your friends,” she starts off in a whisper, “but I wanted to talk to you about our son, Ben.”

For a fleeting moment, Sloane thinks that she’s going to get questioned about his bowel movements or a mysterious rash, that Bryce must have told them he was bringing along his doctor friends. “When he was seven, he nearly--” Nancy cuts herself off, pressing a hand to her heart, “--he drowned when we were at the beach in Florida. I did CPR until the EMTs got there, and they were able to resuscitate him, thank God.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane murmurs, “that must’ve been awful.”

“It was. But I’m -- the reason I’m telling you all this is because, after that, Ben seems to be more… open. More open than the rest of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane says again, though this time out of confusion, “but I don’t--”

With a huff, Nancy shakes her head and waves her hands. “No, no, I apologize. I must sound crazy. I just wanted to warn you that, due to what happened to you, you might see things or experience things that your friends can’t. That’s all, dear.”

Sloane opens her mouth to question her further, but they’re interrupted by the rest of the gang filing out beside them. “We’ll be back at one a.m. to lock up behind you,” Nancy says as she follows her husband down to their car.

With a cheery honk, the little Subaru rumbles down the winding driveway and disappears. The sun having set during the tour, the landscape before them is now draped with the heavy blanket of night. The moon peeks at them from just above the treetops, as if still deciding on whether or not to come out. The only lights are far-off, unmoving: porch lights of the houses back in town; cell towers with their red stars blinking lazily against the dark. A cold wind moves through the trees, rustling the leaves and scattering them across the front walk, the dried edges hissing along the brick.

“Can you believe he said no alcohol?” Bryce breaks the silence with a whine. “I read about this fun séance thing you do with tequila shots and--”

“No séances!” Sienna declares. “And definitely no tequila!”

“Can we argue about this where it’s warmer?” Aurora suggests and steps back into the house.

As she and Sienna wander off into the drawing room, Sloane wraps a hand around Bryce’s arm and pulls him back.

“Did you tell her about me?”

His nose scrunches up to meet his furrowed brows. “Tell who about what?”

“The-- Nancy, did you tell her about what happened to me? With… with the senator, and…” it’s embarrassing how much of a struggle it is to get the words out, even now, even after three weeks and two therapy appointments.

His face falls from confusion to concern. Bryce reaches up and lays his hand over her own.

“Slo, I didn’t tell them, I swear. I would never,” he promises. “Did she say something to you?”

She loosens her hold, frustrated at herself that she even considered he would do such a thing. He’s one of her best friends, the man who handed over the reins to a cutting-edge surgery just to be by her side.

“Yeah, no, listen: it’s fine,” she stumbles through a paltry reassurance. “She was probably trying to scare me, that’s all.”

He gives her a quick once-over, lips twisting into a frown as he debates on whether or not to push. She bites back a breath of relief when he relents, his hand releasing hers.

“Okay,” he says, and nudges her into the house ahead of him. “C’mon. Between the two of us, I think we can convince them to turn off the lights.”

------

Although he puts up a good fight, Bryce loses on the no-lights front.

Which is just as well, because by the time they reach the second floor, Sloane is glad for the light from the antique lamps. To be fair, nothing actually happens: no spooks, no spectres, and no signs from the former resident. Nothing she can point to with any amount of certainty. Whatever it is hovers out of reach, just on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t seem to give it a name. Maybe it lies -- like any good, scary movie -- in the setting. For as grand as the house is, time and dereliction have taken its fine features hostage. Thick, gray dust coats the wooden spindles and curled handrails of the antique staircase. The corridors are tight, the shadows gathering in the space where the lights can’t seem to reach. Small curls of peeling wallpaper look like fingers reaching out from the wall, backlit by the sconces. The cloying scent of wood rot and mold fills the air, like a pile of papers left to curl and yellow with age. The rooms are small, cluttered with furniture and trinkets and artwork.

Sloane stares at such a portrait in the master bedroom, where a couple stares down at her from above the fireplace. The man sits in a chair, the woman standing beside him with her hand on his shoulder. It would be any other family portrait, if it weren’t for the unsettling glaze over the man’s sunken eyes.

“Bryce, please don’t-- aaaand he’s sitting on the bed.”

“You do know that’s where they found her husband, right?” Sienna points out. “That’s why there’s a mannequin on it. And a picture of his dead body on the nightstand.”

“Maybe Maggie will see what a catch I am if I’m laid out for her. I’ve never met a woman over the age of sixty who could resist my charms.” Bryce waggles his eyebrows as he bounces once, then twice on the mattress before stretching out. “What’s up, bro?” he asks the mannequin beside him before doing a double-take. “Hey, it’s Annie!”

He snatches off the ugly wig and fake beard, and lo and behold, an old CPR dummy gapes up at them all. Sloane snorts and shakes her head.

“Looks like the years haven’t been kind to her.”

“Probably saddled with student loans just like the rest of us,” Aurora mutters as she wanders over to inspect the photograph. “Had to get a second job here.”

“Hey, that was a joke!” Bryce commends. “And a pretty good one at that.”

“I do jokes.”

“You so do not.”

A muffled bang from somewhere in the house stops their banter. Everyone glances at each other, verifying that everyone in their group is indeed in the room.

“What was that?” Sienna whispers.

“Probably the pipes,” Aurora says. “It is an old house.”

As if on cue, the lights flicker once, then switch off, sinking them into complete darkness. There’s a flurry of noise as everyone digs out their phones; the bedroom seems even creepier, now, under the white glow of their flashlights.

“What do we do?” Sienna hisses, scurrying from the window to latch onto Aurora.

“We could always search for the breaker,” she suggests.

“Which would be where?”

“In the basement, most likely.”

“Um, no,” Sienna balks. “Hell no.”

“Are you guys serious right now?” Bryce hops down from the bed and pokes his head out the open doorway. “This is so cool! Who wants to go downstairs with me and grab the Ouija board?”

“If you bring that thing near me, I will break it in half.”

He grimaces at Sienna’s threat.

“You’re not really supposed to do that with them. It’ll keep the door open for the spirits to come in.”

“It’s a toy made by Hasbro,” Aurora scoffs. “It’s not going to ‘let in’ anything. And the planchette doesn’t actually move on its own. That’s due to the ideomotor effect.”

Moving over to the window, Sloane presses her temple against the pane’s edge and squints. Just past the eastern wing, she spots a faint halo of yellow light on the lawn.

“Hey,” she raises her voice over their bickering. “It looks like the carriage house still has power.”

“Great!” Sienna squeaks and pulls Aurora with her towards the door. “Let’s check it out. I… love carriage houses.”

They push past Bryce and start back down the hall. Turning from the doorway, a coy smile spreads across his face, a single eyebrow lifting at his wordless request.

“Oh, no.” Sloane shakes her head as she crosses the room. “I’m not staying up here so you can play Twenty Questions with a ghost.”

She ignores his good-natured grumbling and leads him to the staircase, where Aurora and Sienna are waiting on the landing. Aimed at the ground, their flashlights slice at the hand-carved walls; dustmotes dance in the twin beams, kicked up by their feet. The air feels heavier, mustier here, too, like breathing through wet wool. They tromp down the stairs and across the first floor to the kitchen. Being at the back of the group, Sloane can’t help but glance back now and again at the shadowed recesses, searching for the source of her uneasiness. That she finds nothing amiss doesn’t seem to curb her anxiety.

The sensation wanes when she closes the door behind them, sealing up the house once more.

“How is it warmer outside than in there?” Sienna asks as they start cutting across the lawn for the carriage house.

Bryce zips up his coat and shrugs. “I’ve heard that ghosts tend to suck the energy out of a room, creating cold spots when they mani--”

“Please stop talking,” she begs. “At least until we’re somewhere with electricity that actually works.”

“Aw, come on, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve seen enough scary movies in your life to know that we’re safe if we travel together. Besides, everyone knows the funny guy goes first.”

“I think that honor belongs to people of color, now, sorry.” Aurora chuckles when he spins around to wince at her.

“Yeah, fair point.”

Coated in fallen leaves, the ground crunches loud underneath their shoes, blocking out the night sounds as the four of them approach the smaller house. “But for real, I don’t think we have much to worry about from Maggie here. I mean, almost all ghost stories are about little white girls from Victorian times named Sally or Sarah or Kate.”

“That’s because of the spiritualism boom in the late nineteenth century,” Aurora answers.

Bryce sighs and quickly changes the subject, uninterested in a history lesson.

Converted into a proper guest house sometime after the turn of the twentieth century, the carriage house lacks the severe decay of the main house. Though not as grand, the wallpaper here is intact, the dust not as heavy. It might just be the comforts of amenities such as central heating and electricity, but the inside of the house feels much more benign. As they complete a loop around the building, though, Sloane realizes that the feeling of being watched still remains, growing stronger when she passes or glances out one of the windows. With the glare of the lights, though, it’s hard to see much of anything past the panes. None of the others seem to be frightened -- or if they do, they keep quiet. The same can’t be said when Sienna flips the light on in the parlor.

Toddler-size dolls lean against the walls, their porcelain hands cupped around their faces. Each wears a pretty, pastel dress trimmed in white lace, their hair falling down their backs in long, springy ringlets of dark brown, cherry red, and honey gold. Bryce makes a noise of disgust when he spins one around, its face blank: no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Time-out dolls, Sloane tells them, remembering her grandmother’s friend who owned several back in the early nineties -- though hers were all dressed as clowns.

“People actually rent this place out? They pay money to stay here?” Sienna shudders. “I’d rather sleep in the other house, even with all the cobwebs and mannequins.”

“And the ghosts,” Bryce adds.

“Ghosts don’t exist,” Aurora says.

“Okay, Scully, that’s enough out of you.”

------

As the clock ticks closer to ten, Bryce votes to go check out the lake. Aurora and Sienna, however, vote to stay in the warm, well-lit kitchen. The plan is decided to split up and then meet back at the main house in time for midnight.

“You know,” Bryce explains as he and Sloane make their way across the lawn, “because it’s the witching hour.”

“I thought it was three a.m.”

“It is if you’re taking into account REM cycles and all that, but I’m not. All the legends I’ve read say…” he trails off, frowning as he jogs up the main house’s back steps. “Hey, you shut the door when we left, right?”

Her phone’s flashlight sweeps up the French doors; one of them is ajar, standing open several inches. She reaches for the handle and shuts it, listening for the snick of the latch.

“I guess I didn’t pull it closed enough.”

“Or,” he taunts as he grabs two of the lanterns from the porch, “something else opened it.” Ignoring her scoff, he pockets his phone and hands one of the lanterns to her. “These are nice. Do you think they’re original?”

“Bryce, they bought these from a Cracker Barrel. And besides, they’re battery-powered.”

“Oh.”

The back of the estate has been left to run wild. Overgrown swath rolls along the ground like dunes, snagging dead leaves between the dry blades. Thickets of barren shrubs creep out from the distant tree line. The path to the lake is marked by an old fence post, tied with a tattered ribbon. They make their way across the wide expanse of lawn, the trees ahead towering higher and higher the closer they get to the forest. Sloane can’t help but check over her shoulder. The house is just as they left it, though the moonlight is too weak to see if the door is still closed.

Gravel crunches under their feet as they step onto the trail. The quiet night is broken by a ding from her phone.

How goes the ghost hunting?

She hooks the lantern in the crook of her arm and taps out her reply: Fun so far, lights went off by themselves. Very spooky 10/10

Ethan: What do fractions have to do with what you’re doing?

Sloane: Nvm

Ethan: This isn’t 2002. You do have a full keyboard under your fingertips.

Sloane: so?

Ethan: So there’s no excuse for using T9 acronyms.

Sloane: Never thought I’d see the day you reprimand me for texting

Ethan: I’ll spare you the lecture and let you get back to your witch hunt. Text me when you get home, please, so I know you returned safely.

She hits send on the next message. Several seconds later, a red bubble appears beside her will do!, informing her that it refused to send. A quick glance at the top of the screen shows the one measly bar of service her phone is clinging onto. With a sigh, she tucks it away.

“How’s Dr. Ramsey?” Bryce asks.

“Preparing a TEDtalk on prehistoric cell phone etiquette.”

His nose scrunches up. “What?”

“Nothing,” she chuckles, exhaling through her mouth just to see her foggy breath.

The light from the lanterns casts an eerie, yellow glow across the tree trunks and underbrush. Creaks and knocks echo up out of the dark -- branches smacking against each other as a cold wind sweeps through the area. The last vestiges of October skitter along the ground; the leaves almost sound like footsteps, dragging across the dirt behind them. The trail tightens as it winds down a small embankment and into a hollow. Their pace seems to pick up, though neither of them mention it. Sloane burrows into her scarf at the sudden dip in temperature.

“How’s Keiki?” she asks, more so out of need to make conversation than actual curiosity.

“Probably eating her way into a food coma with the pizza money I left for her, and beating all my high scores on Need for Speed.” He’s grinning as he says it, though, which Sloane finds encouraging. “I invited her to go with us, but she said no.”

She doesn’t miss the crestfallen expression that crosses his face for a moment.

“Trust me when I say this, because I speak from the experience of having a younger sibling, but she didn’t say no because she doesn’t like you or anything. It’s because she thinks you and your friends are dorks.”

He sputters at the insult. “I’m not a dork!”

“You so totally are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!” she argues. “Ethan thinks I’m bad, but you -- you come in on your days off and you like it.”

“That’s called dedication to the craft.”

“That’s called being a dork.”

What little she can see of the path ahead is more winding turns, more endless seas of bark and brushwood. But just when she thinks that they’ll never reach the end, that they’ll wind up stumbling upon Elly Kedward’s house -- there’s a small dot of light and then a break in the trees, where the path spits them out onto a rocky shore. The lake glints under their lanterns, the pearlescent gleam of the moon dancing on its surface.

“Oh, hey, that was nice of them.”

Sloane’s gaze tracks along the shore and over to where he’s gestured. A solitary lantern sits in front of an old boathouse, illuminating the weathered cedar shake.

“Too bad they can’t install lights along the path,” she mutters as they make their way to the structure.

“What part of ‘bona fide haunted mansion’ did you not understand? This is the thrill of it!”

Bryce shoulders open the door to a dim room with a half-sunken rowboat in the center.

“Thrilling,” she drones, side-stepping his attempt to whack her arm. “Right.”

They poke through the dirty raincoats and rusted tackle boxes. The wooden planks under their feet jostle and flex. Everything smells of wet and mold, the walls slick with grime. “I can think of several better places to haunt.”

Bryce hums his agreement as he prods at a stack of old hunting magazines, the pages sealed together. Sloane steps over to look down at the boat, where minnows dart underneath the oars to escape her light.

“Watch where you step,” she tells him as she crosses to the starboard side. “Some of these boards are really falling apa--”

The rest is lost to her shriek as the floor underneath her snaps. Her foot goes through the wood. She drops the lantern and scrambles to stay upright. The soggy planks slip from her grasp as she falls backwards, and then: water, the icy rush of it closing over her head.

She fights back a gasp at the sudden cold. With her knee trapped in the joists, she can’t get her feet under her to kick to the surface. Her hands sweep out, flailing desperately. Something hard slams against her neck. She twists at the waist; the sunken lantern illuminates the long shadow of the boat. She digs her fingers into the wood. The cold saps at what strength she has, her muscles refusing to work as she tries to push herself out of the water. Her lungs ache; her heartbeat thuds inside her skull. Down in the murky depths below, a long shadow reaches towards her. Fingers, then hands seize her waist; her skin hits the cold air. Sloane blinks away the muddy haze that coats her eyes and sucks in a lungful of blessed oxygen.

“Sloane!” Bryce shouts, as if he was expecting to pull out someone else. He ropes an arm around her back and helps her up out of the water. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of--” the rest of his words are lost to an undignified oof as Sloane wraps her arms around his neck.

“Thanks.”

His hands come up to rest along her back, gently rubbing there to warm her frozen skin.

“I would say don’t mention it, but please do. The notoriety of me saving your life needs to make its way back to the hospital, so Rahul will finally go on a date with me.”

She fights the urge to roll her eyes.

“You would be concerned about getting a leg over while mine is still stuck.”

“Oh, whoops. Sorry, here, I’ll...” Sitting back on his heels, he steadies her against him and helps her shimmy out of the hole she’s made. Despite how saturated the planks are, her jeans are torn along her knee, where blood wells across several scratches. “Ouch,” he hisses.

“Nothing a few bandages and a tetanus shot won’t fix,” she assures. Wobbling as she stands, Sloane limps over to the storage chest in the corner. The blanket she finds is tattered and smells of mold, but it’s better than braving the night’s chill in just her soaked sweater. “Alright, I want out of this place like yesterday.”

Bryce picks up his lantern and nods, following her out onto the shore and back onto the path.

------

“And, I don’t know, he’s also distant with me sometimes, ya know? He’s hot, then he’s cold. He’ll flirt with me and agree to a date, but then he bails at the last second.”

“I get you.”

“That’s why I’m coming to you, oh wise one,” Bryce says with a grin. “Teach me your ways of dealing with difficult guys.”

Sloane laughs, the sound echoing through the quiet forest. Tucking the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she shakes her head.

“Trust me, if I knew how to, I wouldn’t have such problems with my own.”

The cell phone in her pocket burns at the reminder of Ethan -- not that she could contact him if she wanted, given that the freezing water had zapped the last of its battery.

“Yeah, but you could at least give me some pointers on how to wear him down.”

“Oh, my god, Bryce--”

“Okay, okay, not… ‘wear him down’... more, like, encouraging than that, I guess....” he trails off with a shrug.

Humming as she thinks over her plan of attack, Sloane slows her pace to drop behind Bryce to skirt around a fallen tree -- until she can see it no more. “Fuck!” Bryce curses from in front of her, rattling the lantern as if abuse will bring it back to life. “Batteries must be dead. Let me…” There’s a rustling of clothes, a brief, hopeful inhale, then: “Fuck. Phone’s dead too. Must be the cold or something.”

Sloane closes her eyes and opens them again, hoping that they will have miraculously adjusted to the dark -- but no such luck. With what little moonlight seeps through the canopy and the dusting of fog that’s rolled in, it’s hard to see farther than a few feet ahead. It will make this slow-going trek of theirs even slower. She scans the woods surrounding them and stops when she sees a pinprick of light back down the trail.

“I have an idea,” she says, “but you’re not going to like it.”

He does not, in fact, like her idea. But even he can’t argue against it. Besides, they’d only made it about a half-mile up the path, and the boathouse wasn’t that far back.

Which is how Sloane comes to be sitting on the log, trying her best to ignore the darkness pressing in on her from all sides. If Aurora were here, she would be explaining that being afraid of the dark is just a concept carried over from early hominid days. Then again, if Aurora were here, she wouldn’t have had to send Bryce back for the other lantern, and they’d be back at the house by now. Sloane knows she should keep moving to stay warm, but she’s cold and wet and her knee is throbbing something awful.

She’s uncertain of how much time passes before that silly bundle of nerves in her stomach morphs into the proper weight of worry. Bryce should be back by now. She knows he made it to the boathouse because the light through the trees is gone now. Her eyes have since adjusted to the night, which means it’s been at least thirty minutes. Maybe that lantern died, too, she reasons. Sloane listens for his familiar cursing, or his footsteps on the path -- but there’s nothing. The nighttime noises of the forest are gone: no animals, no birds, no wind. The stillness is nothing short of eerie, especially when she feels that now-familiar sensation of being watched.

“Bryce?” she chances.

From out of the black, she can hear someone walking down the path.

“Bryce!” she shouts, struggling to her feet. “Sienna? Aurora? Is that you?”

Whoever it is doesn’t respond. She starts down the trail towards them, cursing when she nearly trips over a rock. “Seriously, guys, I’m not in the mood--”

An awful sound echoes out of the dark, like a high-pitched whistle played over radio static.

She freezes, pebbles and twigs skidding across the dirt at her sudden halt. Every hair on her body stands on-end, her muscles locked as adrenaline races through her. Sloane swallows and clenches her blanket tighter.

The high-low tone of the whistle sounds again. Whatever’s out there is just beyond the reach of her vision. Sloane wheels around, her gaze darting across the shadows, as if she’ll be able to even see-- a light. It’s several hundred feet out in the forest, back in the direction of the house. It’s too far away to make out who’s holding it. It has to be Bryce, though -- playing a prank on her, as if she’d find this sort of thing funny in the state she’s in.

She bites back a curse and hurries after him as best she can, keeping low to the ground in an effort to hide from whatever animal is out here with them. The trail becomes rougher, more overgrown as she trudges through the leaves and shoves away sticker bushes. Forced to waste precious time watching where she’s going, she glances up only to keep track of the light that grows closer every second.

The whistle comes again -- louder, closer now. Whatever it is, it’s still following her. Sloane pushes through a thicket and stumbles into a clearing. Tucked between a small grove of pines in the center is a cabin. With the caved-in roof, sagging porch, and front steps that form nothing more than a woodpile, it’s obvious the place has long stood abandoned. Sitting on the porch and casting a glow into the open doorway is a lantern -- the same make as the others. Approaching the steps, she slowly leans up and snatches the lantern from the porch.

“No fucking way,” she mutters to herself. “I don’t care if it is a bobcat out here, I’m not hiding in the Evil-Dead-looking-ass cabin.”

The dark silhouettes of the trees rustle under the cold wind that blows through the glade. Carried with it is a different sound: voices, all slurred together, but forming one syllable. She steps away from the cabin and back towards the forest, straining to make it out. Her name, she realizes with relief. They’re calling her name.

She sucks in a breath to yell back when movement catches her eye. Something dark curls away from the tree line, only to dart into the tall grass when she swings the lantern in its direction. Sloane squints at the underbrush it disappeared into, waiting for it to appear again. For a few, blessed moments, she thinks it’s run off, that it’s finally given up.

Until a black shadow crawls out of the underbrush towards her, shrieking, braying like an animal in pain. It’s an ear-splitting cry, echoing across the clearing. Sloane tightens her grip on the lantern and bolts. Ducking back into the trees, she heads in a single direction, knowing that she’ll either hit the lake or the house -- of, if she runs far enough, the town.

Shoving through low-hanging branches, she glances over her shoulder to see the shadow chasing her, peeling itself out of the shadows as it moves between the trees, somehow darker than the black surrounding them. Her foot hits a patch of wet leaves and she slips, skidding down the hillside and tumbling out onto a stretch of asphalt. She grits her teeth against the pain in her leg and crawls forward into the middle of the road. With no time for hesitating, she pushes to her feet and runs, hoping she’s picked the right direction.

It wails again, in the trees to her left, scurrying across the hillside after her.

“Fuck off!” she screams.

Another noise comes roaring out of the dark, drowning out her cry. Lights -- searing, blinding -- swing around the curve. Brakes squeal as the car swerves, narrowly missing her; glass shatters as Sloane staggers to the roadside, her lantern cracking as it hits the pavement and rolls off into the grass. The guard rail is like ice beneath her palm where she clutches it, using it to stay upright as her heart threatens to vacate her body through her throat. The hillside is drenched in red from the car’s tail lights.

“Sloane!”

Ethan -- it’s him, his car, he’s here, but he should be in Boston, shouldn’t he? He was when he texted her and that was only an hour ago so why is he here and how did he-- all of her panicked thoughts cease when he folds her into his arms and hugs her tight. The night around them is still, save for the purr of the engine and the soft dinging of the door ajar warning.

“What the hell were you thinking, standing in the middle of the road like that?” he hisses, pulling her back to pin her down with his glare. “You could’ve-- I could’ve killed you.”

“You’re here,” she whispers.

Her lips are numb from the cold and shock. She reaches up for the blanket, then realizes that she must’ve lost it somewhere along the way.

“Of course I’m here. You really need to stop scaring the hell out of me, you know that.” His brow furrows as he frowns, taking in the state of her. He slips off his own coat and bundles it around her. “Honey, you’re freezing. Let me--”

“We have to go,” she urges, remembering what’s waiting for her, out in the forest. Grabbing hold of his hand, she starts tugging him towards the car. “There’s -- in the woods, there was -- I don’t know, this thing, and it kept screaming, it was horrible--”

Ethan shushes her rambling and guides her into the car, buckling her seatbelt when her hands won’t stop shaking. She tucks her nose into the collar of his coat, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he backs the car up and turns back towards the estate. With one hand on the wheel, the other finds hers and holds tight.

“Your friends called me when they couldn’t find you, wanted to know if I’d heard from you, in case you’d made it to somewhere with a working phone. I called you-- well, more than I’d care to admit, though it was obvious your phone was dead.”

“How did you get here so fast?” she wonders aloud.

“I got here around twelve-thirty, did a sweep of the woods. Around one I started driving around, hoping that I’d come across you in case you made it to the road.” He gives her a worried glance before returning to the road. “The others have been out with the sheriff’s office and the owners, searching the woods.”

“But I… that doesn’t make any sense,” she tells him with a shake of her head. “It wasn’t even midnight when me and Bryce started back, and he was gone for twenty, maybe thirty minutes. And then I saw him-- well, not him, but at the time I thought it was him being an asshole-- and then that… thing chased after me and I got turned around, sure. But it couldn’t have been more than an hour.”

“Sloane, it’s nearly three in the morning.”

Her immediate reaction is to protest, but the concern in his tone and the clock on his dash render her mute. Which is for the best, she realizes later after pulling up to the house and seeing the driveway choked with cars: Bryce’s, the Bell’s, and several police cruisers. Modern floodlights tucked below the eaves turn the dark house into a bright beacon. Blue and red lights of the cruisers swirl across the lawn. As soon as they pull up, her friends race over to the car and wrap her into a hug. One of the cops takes her statement, ignoring Ethan’s insistence about getting her home and taking it over the phone instead.

“Must’ve been a coyote,” the cop tells her after she’s finished. “We get a lot of reports of them out here, being so close to the state park.”

“A coyote,” Sloane repeats.

“Well, sure,” he says with a shrug. “Unless you think it was something else?”

She doesn’t have an answer for that. Having dealt with her fair share of wildlife coming down from the mountains and into her backyard growing up, she can’t remember ever hearing anything similar. Even her grandfather’s tales about the Wampus cat, her favorite spooky story as a kid, didn’t hold a candle to… to whatever was out there.

After the cops leave and the Bells lock up, her friends pile into Bryce’s car for the ride home. Though not before Bryce shares with her his own experience with the mysterious shadow. However, he’d gotten a good look with the lantern.

“It wasn’t an animal,” he whispers to her. “It was her. It was Maggie, I swear it.”

Sloane didn’t know what to say to that. So she hadn’t said anything, just squeezed his hand and hugged him goodbye. Returning to Ethan’s car, she settled into the passenger seat, thankful for the change of clothes he had in the trunk -- and the first aid kit, of course.

With the classical music floating out of the speakers and the warmth of his hand in hers again, it would’ve been easy for Sloane to close her eyes. She can’t help it, though, when they back out of the drive. She looks up to the long row of windows. It could be a trick of the headlights, but something watches them from around the lace curtains. As they start to pull away, it slinks back into the shadows of the house.

------

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:

The inspiration for the Angler Estate is the abandoned Uplands Mansion in Baltimore, MD. If you like urbex stuff, I highly recommend looking up some videos of it on YouTube. It’s a gorgeous place, despite all the vandalism. The owners’ surname being Bell is a fun nod to the Bell Witch Cave, my state’s claim to supernatural fame. The mention of The Evil Dead cabin is another poke, since the 1981 original was filmed an hour away from where I live.

The “watch where you step” line is pulled directly from Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune.

#open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #Kaila writes things #f: the open door

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lady-plantagenet · 4 years

Text

What hasn’t already been said: The Spanish Princess 2

Episode 2: SOdden (or Sod ‘Em depending on your persuasion)

(Dont know how long I’ll be able to keep these puns up)

Catherine, like this woman, does not really fit into this era. But while this woman seems dropdead cool and at least looks the part, Catherine just...

To all those of you keen enough to have come back for another segment of ‘what hasn’t already been said: TSP’, as opposed to have just been scrolling when you see this - welcome back! (Scrollers you too <3)

To anyone who’s seeing this for the first time: what this is a list of observations, jokes, reactions and criticism which occur to me upon a rewatch. I wait every week until Saturday to do this so that I have had my fill of scrolling through the tag and aggregating what has already been said. I tried doing a whole spoof (here where I gave up 10% in) but tbh a) I don’t know the history well enough b) it’s more time consuming than I thought and c) this series is just not as funny or as crazy as TWQ, so it’s untenable. Having said that: This is not a hatepost. I’m not hatewatching this series and nitpicking on purpose but expressing my honest views and trying to find the good in it as well as the bad.

Without further ado...

First Scenes:

The baby cloth lifting into the ceiling of the chapel had nice ‘myth of the demon countess of Anjou (ancestress of the Plantagenets)’ vibes. I am 100% that was unintentional. I get this impression by the cringiness of the baby’s screams (what’s up with those sound effects? It sounded like a zipper).

Henry gives me such softboi vibes? It’s pleasing to me because it’s making me attracted to him as a viewer, but no good in convincing me this is Henry VIII.

I think Catherine’s exposition about how she feels is pretty ok actually, it’s fitting that she would feel anger.

CHARLES’ FATHER IS NOT MAXIMILIAN, IT’S PHILIP (or rather it was). ~~ A quick wiki search guyz, a quick wiki search. Ughh

Again with the whole everyone acting like Catherine is Queen. Can they cut it out? Also while we’re at it, what was Catherine’s attendance in councils even like?

The music was nice

Post Child announcement phase:

Oof I hate to say it but I lowkey wanted de la Pole back in this mother. Mainly because it would mean more Margaret Pole and by this point I am scared her storyline will fade in prominence now that there’s no longer a Yorkist subplot (showhorned as it was, it was the crowning glory of last season tied with Arthur x Catherine).

More x Maggie Pole and all of it over Seneca and learning :’). I already know this will be the best part of the episode.

‘We certainly know stoicism in our family’ ~ I guess she’s referring to Reggie? Because our boi Clarence was no poster boy for stoicism. Though could she be making an ironic reference to her father~?

Edmund de la Pole Debacle:

Well this convo at least passed the bechdel test.

Maggie and Edmund’s interactions here are touching. I know this plotline was rushed but I think it was just right to bring us back here for 5 min as a mournful throwback to the bygone era to which Maggie Pope belongs to and now continues to do so alone. It is emotionless and you can just feel how the York cause was hanging on by a tired old threat by that point.

Maggie Pole is becoming matronly now and I like this transition.

What bothers me about a lot of fans of Margaret Pole is that what they don’t realise is that she wasn’t all like ‘I want nothing to do with my family I’ll stay low and obscure’. While far more cautious than the likes of her ancestors, she did engage in land disputes with Henry VIII and was an outspoken supporter of Catherine and Catholic. Having her be a woman woth dubious loyalties towards the Tudors is accurate.

Scotland with Meg and Jammes:

LMFAO it’s like they read my mind when I spoke of how much I laughed when Meg was like ‘Alexander Steward you pig!1!!’ last episode.

Nice reference to Aulde Alliance

I like James.

Henry and Catherine on the balcony:

Was she commander of the forces? Was Howard appointed that? Regent she was, ok.

Charlotte Hope’s new hairstyles really suit her!

‘Will you please stop cursing’ agahsjdk ahah

No offence to women (of which I am one) but this comparison between childbirth and war is just... wrong. I know Starz think they are being smart but childbirth is far less impressive than winning or surviving a battle - comparing the two diminishes the bravery of soldiers. YET ,having said that, childbirth is necessary for our society whereas war is almost always futile and by comparing them, it wrongly represents violence as something inherently as natural to us as birth and continuing of civilisation. overall not a smart, respectful or accurate parrallel to make.

Meg and prep for invasion + Catherine in her weird armour:

So Margaret dreams that her husband is dead and bloody in her bed. Ughh show you neeed to get more creative. But I did like the whole ‘dreams are how our ancestors talk to us’ line from Angus Douglas.

Re: Meg in her beret... Why is Meg dressed like me going to the London shops in October? Digging the aesthetic but not sure about the accuracy.

Rich of Catherine to bring up Edmund.

Why is Ursula Pole crying??? What is all this to her really?

Did Howard just call the guard... sonny?? Is this some WW2 crossover?

Catherine - James and the tent parlay:

Did Catherine just insult Meg’s intelligence??

Also lmao I’m going to miss James.

Re: Howard saying ‘I’m not going to get insulted by a man wearing a dress’ .. UMMM Starz, you do know that just thirty years ago men were prancing about in dresses and leggings (essentially). From around the middle of the 14th century to the beggining of 16th century (if not earlier), Englishmen were also essentially prancing about in ‘skirts’.

Am I getting a weird cooperation-partnership vibe between Meg and James?

The Battle:

Charlotte Hope looks so good with the helmet, she’d really suit an english hood! Such a shame they won’t give her one!

Ewwww he’s eating mud, why?

Just standard battle scene. They are all the same to me no matter which movie.

Aftermath:

Jesus, I find the whole Meg crying over James IV so heartfelt ‘you arrogant bastard’ for some reason just came out so full of emotion. Can someone please explain why the hell I ship them more than Henry x Catherine?? Like how ??

Awwww Linna is sooooo adorable ughhh. Also this whole Catherine going into armour among all the women crooning over the children gives this adorable sense of Catherine boyish and bloodying herself out to protect their peace, idk. All I have to say is that these series is less eager to pitt women against each other than the previous. I think that’s a step forwards.

Also, good to see Catherine being modest about her victory so Henry can save face. Finally starting to seem like the real Catherine.

‘Go on you dog’ arghh ahah he sounds like some public school rugby lad egging his mate on.

Re: Wolsey cock-blocker; the real Catherine would know it was uncatholic to have sex when you were pregnant. Also Catherine is not technically speaking in confinement if she’s wandering about.

It’s nice to see Catherine sticking up for Howard, she at least learned to respect him during the battle.

I foresee Oviedo having enough of this Christian stuff and wanting to return to the berber domains (I suppose Spain is out of the question)

Knighting Ceremony:

Apparently Margaret Pole herself was made Countess of Salisbury during this same ceremony... right? @houseofclarence

Also Maggie Pole being like: “being a rebel is in my blood, or so they tell me”... gahhh what’s with these shows and the Clarence erasure? Can’t they make one bloody reference to her dad or grandad Warwick? Ugh. Especially with lines like this. Actually? You know what? Ignore my previous comment about the stoic remark and it being an ironic reference to Clarence. I put such subtlety above this show’s writers.

Catherine has a habit of going to the coldest places possible to lose her children...

Haha @ Henry asking Bessie Blount (of all people) where Catherine is.

Conclusion:

6/10

What I’m happiest about is that Flodden got dealt with in one episode because warrior xena Catherine is not what interests me most about this show. Having said that, it was a true shame that James IV died because his were some of the best scenes. This whole show is starting to feel so historical fantasy-ish because the aesthetics are so confused. Granted it’s still pretty (not eyesore like Reign) but it doesn’t penetrate.

I am as always invested in the Poles (and More) but am also starting to get attached to Princess Mary whose actress exudes plenty of charm. This show remains confused with its feminist message because while it shows women being proactive there is so much emphasis on babies that what remains with the mind after watching is this womanish birthdrama, as opposed to a show about struggles which affect both genders.

You might tut at me and say I’m being ridiculous and that it is historically accurate to put so much emphasis on women’s babies and I say that’s swell. I would happily watch a show where that element is strong (most pre 1995 historical dramas are like that with traditionally feminine characters and I gulp them up like sustenance), but if a show promises feminism and women-men being partners I want it to deliver that properly. As I said in my previous post, why do we keep trying to make women engage in acts like war as if such an abhorrent act is the only way to take them seriously? I await the day where cunning, rationality and cool-headedness will be the traits portrayed as feminist ones.

There is nothing else to really comment on... the only potentially deeper message in this is the gender discourse. I am unsure about the accuracy so I can’t speak of the historical value of the interpretation. But what I will say is that though I remain excited for each new episode... I’m just not as invested as I was in TWQ (rewatch every year dont @ me) or TWP despite their many flaws. Some characters pull me in eg Maggie Pole (Carmichael is a bae), Thomas More etc but not the whole cast like TWQ. Anyway... would be interesting to see if anything happens with Lina and Oviedo tommorow as their storyline is conspicuously slow.

#the spanish princess #the spanish princess 2 #fool if you thought I wouldn't jump on the whole 'being a rebel is in my blood' opportunity to bring up Clarence #I was delighted last time when people left comments and stuff #rofl #so yeah #Please please I love discussions and do not think twice before sending me an ask or commenting !#lady plantagenet's series reviews #the dialogue remains a bit trite #the sugared grape counterpart for this episode was edmund's death and the whole ironic reference to Senenca and stoicism #not because the dialogue around edmund's death was particularly poignant but how conspicuously quiet and swift the whole affair was as #...as compared to previous york pretender plotlines left a mournful note #basically I feel like I keep focusing on stuff the show doesn't want me to focus on #and am projecting therefore

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petersasteria · 4 years

Text

Oof - Harry Holland (1)

Pairing: Harry Holland x Model!Reader

Based on my Harry Holland one shot of the same title.

Harry Holland Masterlist || Ultimate Masterlist || Oof Materlist

DISCLAIMER: *This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: He liked her for a long time, but she didn’t know he existed.

“Be good at school, okay?” Nikki tells her twin boys, Sam and Harry. “Behave and listen to your teacher. I’ll pick you up later.”

“Yes, mum.” they say in unison. Nikki smiles and kisses both of their foreheads. She smiles at them and she shakes her head as she sees them running off inside the room where their classes are held. Sam and Harry are starting their first day of school and they’re really excited to meet new people. After all, they only knew their family members and some of their neighbors. They wanted to explore and they wanted to go to the big school where their older brother, Tom, studies.

They were really sad when they were told by Nikki and Dom that they couldn’t attend the big school just yet. They were too young after all. They are currently enrolled at the small school near their house which was just a short drive. Nikki and Dom dropped off the twins first before driving Tom to his school.

Sam and Harry take a seat next to each other as they look around. They felt so happy to see new faces and they were excited to talk to other kids. They loved their brother very much, but sometimes they’d get tired of him. You know how children are with their short attention span, so this little escape from Tom was nice.

The teacher comes in a few minutes later and tells everyone to settle down. She introduces herself as Maggie and their first activity is to create their own name tags. Sam and Harry excitedly bring out their new crayons and paper. They even had stickers for decoration!

“I’ll draw robots on my name tag!” Harry tells Sam. Sam nods and says, “Okay! I’ll draw cars on mine like our car!”

Sam and Harry made small talk with the other two people on their table, Lawrence and Katie, and they quickly got along together. To say that teacher Maggie was delighted is an understatement. She was overjoyed to see that all the kids are getting along!

“I drew pretty flowers on mine!” Katie smiles and proudly shows it off to the boys.

“Oooh!”

“Wow!”

“That’s great, Katie!”

Katie thanks them and proceeds to draw more flowers. Lawrence shows his name tag too and he drew Superman... or at least tried to. It was a stick man with a red cape. Regardless, Sam, Harry, and Katie were amazed at his drawing. The twins showed their drawings too.

“Alright kids!” Maggie calls, “It’s snack time! I’ll go around each table to put strings on your name tags so you can wear it, okay?”

“Okay!” all the kids say excitedly as they all take out the snacks that their parents prepared for them. Maggie’s too busy roaming around each table to see someone standing by the door.

“Teacher Maggie, there’s someone at the door.” James, one of the kids, informs her. She turns around and sees a man wearing a business suit with a little girl hiding behind his legs. Maggie thanks James before walking to the door.

“I’m Maggie. How may I help you, sir?” Maggie quietly asks with a small smile. She didn’t want the kids to hear what was going on. Unfortunately, kids are naturally nosy so all of them watched while eating their snacks.

“I’m so sorry she’s late. I had to drive my wife to the hospital, because our driver is on a day off at the moment and no one else could drive her.” the man explains.

“Oh, I hope she’s alright!.” Maggie frowns.

The man smiles, “She’s alright. She’s just about to give birth and I have to leave now so I don’t miss it.”

“Well, congratulations! You may leave her here now. I’ll hand it.” Maggie tells him. He thanks and quickly bids goodbye to his daughter with a kiss on the head before leaving.

“Let’s get you inside, yeah?” Maggie holds the girl’s hand and walks in the room with her. All the kids quickly turn away and pretended that they didn’t watch everything. Of course, Maggie saw it and just shakes her head.

Maggie tells her to sit anywhere she likes and of course, the girl picks the nearest table. The kids at her table immediately give her a warm welcome and she smiles and introduces herself, “Hi, I’m Y/N!”

Maggie tells Y/N what they did and that they’re currently having snacks, “You can create your name tag after snack time, okay?” Y/N nods and eats her snacks with her new friends. Maggie smiles at the sight before continuing where she left off.

“The new girl is pretty.” Katie says nonchalantly. Lawrence just nods, his mouth was full. Sam just shrugs, “I guess. What do you think, Harry?” He turns to his twin who’s already looking at the new girl. Sam waves a hand in front him, “Harry?”

Harry looks at Sam and says, “What did you say?”

“I was asking what you think of the new girl.” Sam repeats. “Katie thinks she’s pretty.”

“I agree with Katie. The new girl has nice hair.” Lawrence beams and this time, it’s Katie’s turn to nod.

“I think she’s alright.” Sam says, “Her clothes seem really fancy, though. What do you think of the new girl, Harry?” Sam asks once more.

“She’s really pretty!” Harry exclaims with a grin. “I like her hair too. It’s so neat and her clothes really are fancy. What does mum call it again? Extensive?”

“No, that’s not it.” Sam shakes his head. “I think it was spensive?”

Lawrence rolls his eyes and giggles, “It’s expensive.”

“There we go!” Harry giggles too. “Her clothes are ex-pen-sive!”

Harry couldn’t stop looking at the new girl for the rest of the day. He’s excited to tell his mum about it!

“How was school?” Nikki smiles at them as she helps them into the car.

“It was fun!” Harry shouts.

“Yeah, and we made name tags and we sang songs!” Sam shouts too.

“Okay, okay.” Nikki chuckles. “No need to shout. We’ll pick up Tom from his big school.”

“Yay! We get to see his big school!” Sam cheers.

The three of them talked about random stuff on the way to Tom’s school. When they arrive, the twins are in awe.

“So this is what big school looks like.” Harry mumbles.

Of course, it was still kind of small. But to them, it was a palace. They see Tom running to the car and before they knew it, Tom was in the backseat with them.

“How was school?” Nikki asks her oldest son as she drives back home. Tom’s school was quite far, but at least she had the children to keep her company.

“It was great! Max was there and he said he wants to sleepover again.” Tom smiles. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, but not now.” Nikki chuckles. “Tom, why don’t you ask your brothers how their first day of school went?”

Tom turns to his twin brothers and ask, “How was it?”

“It was fun! We made new friends and we made cool name tags and we sang songs!” Harry boasts.

“Yeah! Then a girl went there late.” Sam mentions. Harry nods, “Yeah and she’s really pretty and she has nice hair and she has... what does she have again, Sam?”

“Ex-pen-sive clothes.” Sam giggles.

“Sounds fancy.” Nikki comments.

“We don’t know her name, though.” Sam shrugs.

“Why?” Tom asks with furrowed eyebrows.

“We didn’t see her name tag.” Harry frowns. “But yeah she was really pretty.”

“HARRY HAS A CRUSH!!” Tom teases. Sam laughs and Harry just pouts, “Mum, make him stop!”

“Tom, stop teasing your brother.” Nikki says as she shakes her head and looks at Tom through the rear view mirror. “Say sorry.”

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Tom says.

“It’s okay.” Harry smiles.

At that time, Harry didn’t know that his eight year old brother was actually right.

* * * *

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ???

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟

#harry holland #harry holland one shots #harry holland blurbs #harry holland imagines #harry holland fanfiction #harry holland x reader #harry holland x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fanfoms-tbh

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chemiste · 4 years

Text

Foresight ~ ch.3

a/n : here’s chapter 3 :)

masterlist

A couple cheers were thrown from people.

Mr. Azoff twiddled his fingers together for a moment then stood up, “Great! Let’s get Hélène to take a couple pictures of you with the band that can be posted later tonight on Harry’s story and also get you a tour shirt! We’ve got to make it seem like you’ve known him forever right? Get to chatting in the dressing room and I’ll find our photographer.” Jeff zipped out the room with the other crew hot on his tail.

Maggie exited first and told you she was going to find the bathroom, which left you and H to walk the dressing room.

“Thank you, for this.” You spoke up, smiling to the man before you. “I know it must be a lot of work to cover for me but I really appreciate it.” “I know what it’s like to be pressured to tell eve’yone something you’re not ready for the world t’ know and ‘m happy I could protect you from it.” The statement was endearing, but made you a bit sad for the boy walking alongside you.

He never got to do stupid teenager things without the media breathing down his neck, you thought somberly as you both approached the dressing room.

Before he could open the door, you put your hand on his arm and in a quiet voice said to him, “I’m sorry about the pressure you face from the public, it’s not fair to you or anyone associated with you. But, I want you to know that your strength made it easier for me to make this decision. I’m glad you’re the celebrity I fell into an E!News scandal with.”

Harry laughed at your jab to the article and pulled you in for a hug. “Thank you Y/N,” he mumbled into your hair that his face was buried in.

You both entered the dressing room and were met with the other band members. Sarah smiled when you came in and stood up to give you a hug, “Hey Y/N, sorry about all the commotion but we’re happy to have another girl on the trip with us!”

The door opened and Jeff came in with a pink TPWK sweatshirt. “Here,” he wanted it to you, “you can wear this during the show and stand either in the pit again, or balcony, or where I think would be best, the side of the stage.” “Why?” You asked as you quickly slipped your turtle neck off under the sweatshirt so you wouldn’t get too hot.

Thank god I didn’t get stuck like last time trying to do that.

“Because it will help sell the whole ‘long time friend’ thing for Harry, you can stand just a tiny bit in view during a couple songs so that fans take a picture to post seeing you here at another venue and then the speculation will go away.”

He then motioned to Harry, “You also need to follow her on Instagram and quickly, then after he does Y/N, you can answer a comment from someone asking about the follow thing and just say you didn’t want the public eye on you so much but now there’s no reason for him not to follow you, do you understand so far?”

You nodded and Jeff seemed satisfied.

He clasped his hands together, “Alright, Harry you need to change and get hair and makeup done—” “only hair!” “—and then it’s time to rock and roll.” Y/N, just follow Hélène out once Mabel ends and she’ll show you where to stand.” The manager left and Harry was circled by dressing assistants and his hairstylist/makeup artist.

As he was being pulled away he turned to you, “Hey where’s your friend…” “Maggie.” “Yeh, where’s Maggie?”

You moved to get comfy on the couch as he was forced into the makeup chair. “She’s in a hallway 3 hallways down from us, but in about 4 minutes and 23 seconds she’ll come through the door saying something about the bathroom being too far away from the dressing room.” You said causally, keeping eye contact with the British heartthrob through the mirror.

He looked forward to his own reflection and mumbled, “that’s so cool.”

Exactly 4 minutes and 23 seconds later, Maggie comes bursting through the door exclaiming, “Famous people use the dressing room! Why is the bathroom so far away from it! Terrible terrible I tell you!”

Harry and you both made eye contact as she threw a mini tantrum and then bursted out in laughter. Maggie stood there clueless, “What’s so funny? Guys? Stop laughing— guys!”

You could hear the thunderous screams as you followed Hélène to where you’d be standing. Maggie tagged along as well but was told to not step out into view with you or else they’d have another scandal and didn’t want to deal with it.

“Here we are!” She announced over the crowd to you, from your spot on the stage you could see the rubric’s cube on the screen above and the first few rows of fans at the barricade.

Hélène motioned for you two to come closer to her, “If you get tired of standing, there’s to fold out chairs over there. Y/N, step out a little after Harry asks for lighting in the crowd, this is will help them notice you a bit. I’ve got to get in position but I’ll see you girls after!”

You gave the photographer a thumbs up and she ran out to take the beginning shots of the crowd. Maggie squealed next to you, “This is so cool! We get to see him right in front of us!” “We were in front last time though Mags.” “Yes, yes but this time we’re on the stage!! It’s like our personal booth at an opera!”

Before you could respond, Only Angel started to play and the crowd really cheered then. You watched in awe as the screen lifted and there stood Harry Styles.

The songs were spectacular just like last time, you danced with Maggie and sang to your heart's content. It was great to watch Harry from this angle, you could see the joy in his face from all the smiles he was receiving.

“Can we get the lights up ’n ‘ere?” He asked into the microphone, you knew this was your ‘moment’ to shine. You gave a quick look to Mags who gave you a thumbs up.

Then, little by little, you shuffled into the direct eyesight of the crowd, still on the side of the stage. You lean on the wall to try and relax.

Y/N come on, look like you’re here for your friend and that’s your only concern!

With that thought in mind, you allowed your body to relax and enjoy watching the poster interact with fans. You’d always thought of him as a pretty chill celebrity but looking at him now, you could see how much he appreciated his fans and it was humbling.

Click! Click!

Flash!

Click!

Tiny bursts of light started appearing in your peripheral vision, you turned your head slightly to see a couple people had taken notice to your presence.

This is good Y/N, keep calm, everything is falling into place correctly.

“Y/N! Y/N! How do you know Harry Styles?!!” Shouts at you started to attract more attention away from Harry who was talking to the opposite side of the crowd and over to you.

Oh no, this is a bit much now. You looked up to Harry with a startled expression as you saw him watching the crowd looking to wear people were pointing.

You both made eye contact and he smiled with a tip of his head. “alrigh’ alrigh’, quit your whinin’. That’s m’ friend Y/N in case yeh were wonderin’ ya snoops.”

You let out a big breath as the crowd laughed with him, you mouthed thank you to him and he tipped his head in your direction.

“Let’s start another song shall we?”

Watching the finale song was very energizing, harry was giving it his all and the crowd was eating it up. Once it ended, the band took a bow and started to head off stage in your direction.

A sweaty Harry came darting right at you and with no time to react, he picked you up and swung you around. There’ll definitely be pictures of that on social media.

“You were fantastic Harry!” Maggie said as he put you down and started to walk back to the dressing room with everyone else. You followed alongside him with Mags and she continued to gossip about the whole concert.

“Did you see the girl in the front with the pink hair?! It was so cute when you sang medicine she turned to the girl next to her and confessed her love for her!! They kissed and everything, it was like a movie moment! And then—“

You zoned out Maggie’s rambling to glance at the rockstar next to you, even dripping sweat he still looked effortlessly handsome.

Stop that right now, no thought’s about licking the sweat from his brow or—hey! No-one of that Jess!

You shook your head and returned to the conversation at hand as you entered the dressing room. Celebratory cheers engulfed the room as Harry entered. Mitch and Sarah had a champagne bottle which they popped and dispersed into paper cups.

Once the cups were passed out, Harry lifted his into the air. “Here’s t’ new friends and a killer performance!” Everyone let out a cheers! and took a drink.

You chatted with Maggie for a bit before you heard your phone ringing on the table in front of you.

I must have left it here during the show. You went to grab it and saw a bunch of missed calls from your mother. Oh Lucy… What? You clicked call back and left the room to speak in the quiet hallway.

“Y/N? Y/N! Oh my gosh we were so worried—“ “Mom! What’s wrong? What about Lucy?” “Darling, she called us while we were out gardening and I only listened to the voicemail she left but she’s sounded confused! She said you were trending—“

“Trending.” You said at the same time as your mother. “Yes— what does that mean sweetheart?!”

You loved your parents, but they were a bit behind with technology slang. “Mom everything is fine, I’m sorry I haven’t called you sooner a lot has been going on.” “Like what Y/N?”

You took a breath, “You know texted you about the concert Mag’s Dad got us tickets to?” “Mhm” “Well, I uh, knew somethings that I shouldn’t because of my psych stuff—“ “Y/N! diD YOU GET ARRESTED?!” “wHAT!—No mother!! I did not get arrested!” A few interns that had been passing by gave you a strange look but continued on, you whispered into the phone.

“Basically I knew lyrics to a song that hadn’t been released and to keep the internet from exploding and my secret getting out, the singer has graciously let me tour with him for some shows.” “And when did you think you were going to tell me this young lady?!” “I’m sorry mom! Everything has just been so hectic that I forgot.”

A deep sigh came from the other side of the phone, “And they’re doing this to protect your special skill?” “Mhm, they are momma.” “Well, alright, what band is it anyway—“ “It’s Harry Styles.” “Styles? Wasn’t that the boy in that small band called wrong direction?”

You stifled a laugh, “One Direction, and they broke up a while ago.” “Really? Oh dang, I thought they had so much potential.” “They did have— oh never mind, I’m going to need to transfer my poetry and photography class online, and get more clothes oh god I didn’t think about clothing.”

“I can pack a couple extra suitcases to be sent over but where would they need to go and I don’t know how to get them to you.”

“Okay, I’ll ask Harry’s manager about. I love you mom but I’ve got to get back to Mags and pack up for tomorrow.”

“Alright, we’re sending our love to you!”

After hanging up, you thought about the clothing situation. I mean, I have my checked suitcase with about 15 outfits (thanks to Maggie’s insistence) but it would be nice to have some nicer stuff since I’ll be with a top list celebrity for the next month so… hmm.

You went back to the dressing room to find everyone packing up to go back to the hotels to get ready for the 5am wake up tomorrow.

Maggie walked up to you with a goodie bag of merch over her shoulder. “Ready to go?” You nodded and headed to the door. “See you guys later!”

Various versions of bye were voiced to you. As you walked down the hallway, Jeff came out of a different room. “Oh, Y/N great I caught you before you left. I’ll email you where to meet tomorrow, be there at 4am or a bit before since we want to get a move on.”

“Alright, oh one thing, my mother wanted to have a suitcase sent over for me with some more clothes?” He nodded and pulled his phone out, “here, put her email in and I’ll sent an intern in the area to pick it up tonight to be shipped over in time.”

Your eyes widened at his casualness to get something shipped abroad for you. You typed in her email address to his phone, “Thank you so much!” He bid you adieu and you girls took a cab back to the hotel.

“I’m sorry I’m leaving you two days before you’ve got to go home. You sure you don’t want me to ask if you can tag along?”

You said to Mags from your sprawled out spot on the bed across from her as she put her clothing back into her luggage.

“No worries girl! I’m gonna meet up with dad in Germany and have some Dad and Daughter time.” She zipped the bag up and put it on the ground and crawled into bed. “It’ll be good honestly, we haven’t had time together in a while.”

You smiled at your best friend, happy that the weird situation you were in wasn’t leaving her stranded. Maggie reached up and turned out the lamp.

“Good night Y/N.”

“Night Mags.”

ding ding ding! bing! ding bing! ding!

One of your arms wiggled out from under the covers to turn your alarm off. You let out a quiet groan and got up from the comfy bed.

You had been smart and wore what you were gonna wear on the bus to bed so you didn’t need to change. You had on high leggings and the pink sweatshirt from last night over a tank top in case you got hot.

Making sure you didn’t disturb Maggie until you were to say goodbye, you headed into the bathroom and closed the door quietly before fumbling your hand on the wall to find the light switch. You went pee and brushed your teeth, then did your skincare routine and put your hair up out of your face.

As you packed up the stuff you had left out for the morning you saw your eyelash curler at the bottom of your compact bag.

Might as well.

You curled your eyelashes a few times so you didn’t look too horrible for 5am but honestly would blame you?

You left the bathroom and put the last few remanned things in your suitcase and zipped it shut before pulling the handle out. Grabbing your phone and wallet from the table, you unplugged the charger and shoved it into your backpack before putting your tennis shoes on and going over to Mags.

“Hey, I’ve got to go now but I love you and I’ll see you soon kay?” The brunette rolled over to face you and gave a sleepy smile, “I love you Y/N, have fun.”

You gave her a quick kiss on the nose, “Love you too Mags.”

Then with one last sweep of the room to make sure you hadn’t left anything, you grabbed your bags and left.

ch. 4

masterlist

#harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x reader series #harry styles tour 2018 #harry styles concert #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n

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shewantedtobeasecretgirl · 4 years

Text

The Backstage Pass (Out)

Hey everyone... this is still not an update of Do You Wanna Dance? but another pathetic attempt of me to provide you with PJ-related reading material... Sssooo, there was this post of @gardenofstoney... and I’ve always taken tags verry seriously. I felt addressed since the situation she described sounded absolutely like a perfect fanfic material so I ended up playing with the idea. One thing led to another and a Stone Gossard one-shot happened, which I hereby share with you (with her and @mookiebaelock’s consent). Disclaimer: may contain traces of Jeff Ament!

Ps. I solemnly swear I get Judy out of the shower soon.

„Are you sure you don’t want to move towards the side of the stage? These Vedder-fanatics seem pretty dangerous, I’m not sure I want to be here when they go wild…” Mel asked fidgeting with the setups of her professional camera.

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m fine here…” Maggie answered leaning her forehead against her arms that were resting on the barrier. She was dog-tired; she and her best friend, Mel were cueing the whole day to get there at the show of their favorite band, Pearl Jam. Actually, Pearl Jam was their second favorite band but it was the rock group that brought them together. They saw each other’s introduction in the “Pen Pal Wanted” column of Footsteps, the band’s fanzine and the rest was history... And finally, they were there, standing at their precious front row places, waiting for the show to begin…

They agreed on standing in front of the center of the stage since they both had different preferences… Mel was dying to make close shots of her bassist crush (and maybe steal a few smiles and glances from him), while Maggie was interested in the other side of the stage… to be more accurate, in the person who regularly ruled it. Stone Gossard. The absent-minded, aloof alien who played the rhythm guitar parts and who, unfortunately, wasn’t the most responsive member of the band. He was said to be a sarcastic, hilarious and nice guy but at shows he just… didn’t give a shit about the crowd. He was usually absorbed in the songs, following the rhythm with his entire body, marching to the beat or just bobbing his head… but that was all. No interaction, no communication, just the chords. If Maggie had been alone there, she would have picked his side and stayed there as if she had been pinned to the ground… but Mel wanted to stand near Jeff so they made a compromise. Of course, Mel tried every kind of dirty trick to lure her closer to Mike’s and Jeff’s territory and Maggie begged desperately with her irresistible sad puppy face to move in the other direction, after all, if the mountain won't come to Muhammad… and Jeff would bounce around, anyways, she argued. But neither of them could convince the other one so they were stuck in front of the place of Eddie Vedder and they knew they would have to fight hard to be able to keep their position.

“You will defend me, I know.” Maggie cuddled to her friend, letting herself be pulled in a bear hug. She was short and slim, the top of her head barely reached the level of the tall Mel’s chin, that’s why they often joked about themselves being two dogs coming from different species but being allies and best friends forever.

“I’ll defend you just… not now, oh my god, ohmygod, they’re here, that’s him!!!” Mel suddenly let her go frantically taking one picture after another of her main target.

“Okay, I can’t win against Jeff Ament…” Maggie shook her head with a forgiving smile only to discover the object of her admiration appearing on the other side of the stage, walking around with a deadpan on his face. She couldn’t help chuckling when she noticed he was wearing a black socks-dress shoes combo... with light brown shorts. She’d already got used to these weird testimonies of his terrible fashion sense but he always managed to surprise her with a newer unacceptable outfit.

When the singer finally showed up too, the crowd moved forward, pressing the girls against the barrier… and from that moment on, they only had some rest during the slower songs. Not that they wanted to complain, they were singing along the lyrics, screaming, laughing, crying or just squeezing each other’s hand making sure they were not dreaming, they were finally together, having the time of their life, really living their favorite songs. Mel was overly contented with seeing the bass player’s manly moves in the tight tank top he was wearing and the passionate solos and dazed-off moments of Mike pleased both of them too, even if they were within the spitting range of Ed. But as time went by, they both started feeling the depressing thought that this would be over soon, even if they tried to fight against it by bouncing and screaming twice as intensely as before…

When Stone started playing the opening chords of State of Love and Trust, the crowd went completely nuts and Maggie had to tighten her grip not to be drifted… the pressure behind her eased for a second but at once, she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head and lost the touch with the outside world…

***

Mhmmmm… what are these bright lights? I must have died and got in that shining corridor about which people who experienced clinical death always tell…

“Jesus, I go blind…” I mumble… or am I just hearing my own thoughts? Shit, this splitting headache, I’m definitely alive, I must have fallen asleep after taking in my migraine pill.

“Do you prefer low light?” a nasal male voice asks and as I look around, I find myself lying on a couch but I’m not in my own apartment, I don’t know this place. Oh, so I’m in a dream, nice, let’s see where it’s going…

“Yes, please!” I groan covering my eyes.

“Clouds roll by… sorry, bad joke, here, is it better his way?”

I take away my hand from my eyes and let them adjust to the pleasant half-light provided probably by a standing lamp somewhere out of my sight. When did I learn how to change the setting of my dreams? Cool… The owner of the voice takes place opposite me only to make me realize, I’m in a Stone dream, moreover, this time it’s a new one.

“Are you okay?” he’s checking me with the inquiring but still expressionless stare of a toad.

“More or less…” I mumble helplessly. Interesting, I’ve never had such a vivid dream about him, it’s somehow different, like I was in charge, I’ve never felt like this before while dreaming… Familiar melodies provide the musical accompaniment, I have to listen for a few bars until I recognize Yellow Ledbetter… but he’s here… and the music comes from…?

“Are we… at a show?” I ask suspiciously, I’m afraid that despite the realistic surrounding, it’ll turn into an incoherent screenplay written by my subconscious.

“Yes, we are…”

“But how come you’re not playing? You should be on the stage with the others…”

“I don’t feel like playing… I mean in that song, I have basically not much to do, I strum the same chords as Mike, it’s boring. At sound checks, sometimes I beg until I can play the drum parts, I’m a desperate drummer but I love it. But the rhythm guitar part is just… nah. Plus, I had to pee, anyways.”

“Fair enough.” I snicker. He’s such an awkward dork, even in my dreams. “Well, that happens if a musician is too busy with drinking beer at gigs instead of playing”.

“Excuse me?” he startles offended. That’s my favorite thing in dreaming, I can do and say what I’d never dare in real life.

“Do you think we don’t notice when you’re just fudging, walking around with the guitar and use the change of amplifier setups as an excuse to take a few sip of your booze? That doesn’t really count as musical contribution.”

“Ugh, busted. I try not to drink before the show though. Right as soon as I get onstage I start drinking. But come on, I never belch out of key, what’s this if not musical humility?”

I snort shaking my head and keep grinning from ear to ear. If he’s such a hilariously funny guy in my fantasy, how adorable he can be in the reality… I know he used to be an annoying, sarcastic little shit but when PJ got really successful, he mellowed down and made himself to the main target of his irony… The mixture of this down-to-earth humbleness and calm confidence was one of the main reasons why he became my favorite member in the band; in the band that only consists of great, relatable people, by the way.

Maybe I should use the occasion to have a chitchat with him, I could ask him questions about stuff I’ve always wanted to know… even if the answers are only the products of my mind…

“Do you see the world in yellow?”

Okay, maybe that’s not the best start but the colored lenses of his spectacles somehow distracted me and it just slipped out. He reacts with that short, amused eyebrow twitch I love… good job, Maggie.

“It’s a good question! It’s funny, nobody asked that before… but to answer it, I do, it’s like being trapped in that moment of sunset when everything is glowing in that golden light… but to be less poetic, it makes everyone look as if they were Lego figures, they have yellow head, y’know…”

The mentioning of my favorite toy brings back old memories about the times when I was building my own town with eclectic houses that served as the scene of the made-up action stories crafted by my cousin and me.

“I you were a Lego figure, you’d be a bad boy.” I remark with a timid smile and try to ignore the fact that my cheeks are in flames.

“Only if I were a Lego figure? That’s offensive. I was the member of the gang Newton Street Boys. We were the most dangerous guys on whole Capitol Hill, we terrorized the district by taking protection rackets from kindergarten pupils. They were scared to death when we showed up riding our bikes, I liked the banana-seat ones with the high handlebars - maybe a card in the wheel could have been part of it.” he chuckles playfully. “Anyway, why a bad boy?”

“It’s because of the scruff.” I giggle and reach out to pinch his neck but he leans away.

“Please don’t touch me.” he grunts.

Hey, brain, we had an agreement: if I behave decently enough in real life, you won’t throw any obstacles in the way of my naughty tendencies at nights. So if I want to touch Stone’s perfect neck, I’m gonna to do it. Period.

“I said no!!!” he repeats this time angrier when my fingers approach his skin again. What the hell???

“Sorry. I… I just wanted to say that there were those bearded figures… and you could get them mostly from the pirate or the police station series.”

“You mean they had an attachable Lego beard?” he inquires confused and excited at the same time; I’m sure he’s already forgotten the embarrassing intermezzo and is now desperately trying to recall the look of the little yellow dudes.

“Haha, no, it was just painted on their face. There was the moustache, the regular beard and the scruff that basically meant black dots on their face. And the scruffy guys always played the role of the bad boys in my stories. You know, the bank robber, the fleeing prisoner…”

“… the fucked-up musician… we should definitely have a Lego party once!”

“We should…” I repeat and we’re smiling silently at each other for a few seconds… I clear my throat and swallow hard since my mouth got completely dry, shit, it must be that damn gum-shield I have to wear at nights to prevent myself from gnashing.

“You want some water?” he asks walking to a fridge standing at the door.

“Fuck, yes, I’m dying of thirst.” I moan and I mean it.

“Here.” he hands a small bottle to me while he opens a beer can. I rather don’t make any remarks, the show is over, after all… But now that I think into it, maybe the other band members will show up too… I can’t wait!

I lower my head and press the ice cold bottle against my forehead. It feels incredibly good, that blinding pain is still pulsing in my head. As I direct my gaze onto the ground, I can’t help laughing again when I spot his dress shoes and the black socks tucked into them. The hem rolled down around his left ankle making the socks look like they were unmatched.

However thirsty I am, I can only take small sips since I’m already snorting at the next part of this weird vision.

“Anyway… before the others would arrive, there’s one thing we have to discuss.” I begin when I finally manage to force my facial muscles into a serious expression.

“Something that stays between us? Like a dirty little secret?” his face lights up with a boyish smile.

“Kind of, if your socks are dirty…” I roll my eyes. “It’s the footwear.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Of course yours, mine is normal. Matching boots, a totally adequate choice for a rock concert. But yours is just… criminal.”

“Don’t be rude with my shoes, they look good and they are comfy as fuck!” he circles with his feet comically.

“They do but man, look in that mirror!” I point at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. “You look like the mixture of an elementary school boy and a bachelor dressed by his mother. Shorts with dress shoes? How? Why? It’s an obvious no-no!” I scream.

“I have only these ones, sneakers and flip flops with me, which doesn’t leave much variation.” he shrugs briefly.

“You should have chosen the sneakers… as for the “f” word, I’m not even willing to pronounce it.”

“I always wore hiking boots in the earlier times, they were the most comfortable choice but they weren’t compatible with the heat on stage. And then, I got introduced in the magical world of orthopedic sandals but the band somehow vetoed them, I don’t really understand why... I was only allowed to wear them between shows and at soundchecks but at gigs, I had to wear the boots… Once, before a show, maybe in Atlanta, I can’t remember exactly, the sole of my boot separated so I could only wear my sandals… the guys freaked out about my velvet shorts-sweatpants-white socks-sandals outfit and obliged me to wear Jeff’s shoes during the show.” he recalls but I can barely listen to him, his hand talk and the fidgeting alien fingers are definitely more appealing than the image of Birkenstocks worn with socks.

As my eyes are glued to him, I involuntarily start playing with my hair but my fingers land in something sticky. I check them and glance at him helplessly, as if he could help me find out why blood is the next nonsense feature in this scene.

“Fuck, why didn’t you tell me earlier that you’re bleeding?” he shouts and rushes to the fridge.

“Because I didn’t know…” I mutter and can’t form further coherent sentences since he steps back to me with an ice bag and presses it to the back of my head… and he keeps standing opposite me with his arms laced around my neck. I’m desperately trying to look at the ceiling, the ground and the four walls at the same time, anywhere but him…

“This is too embarrassing, I want this to finally end… this is terrible.” I whisper in pain, fixing my gaze on the ugly shoes and working on calming down my hyperventilation with all my nerves.

“Hey, I just wanted to help! Just for the record, we don’t often let passed-out fans in the backstage, you were in bad shape and…”

“No, I mean, thanks and all but this dream… it’s going nowhere, it was funny but you entering into my personal space creates a tension that needs resolution, like a hug or a kiss or anything, this makes just no sense!” I blurt out, basically arguing with myself, the director of the movie.

“What? That doctor could finally arrive, you must have a concussion!” he gently tries to push me back onto to the couch but I shake his hands off me.

“What doctor... wait… the pain… the blood… is this… real?” I flail still hoping he doesn’t exist and suddenly disappears or turns into my real crush or Edge from U2 or whatever.

“You got hit with by a half-empty beer can and you passed out so the security personnel fished you out of the crowd. Since I came back anyway, I suggested that they should lay you down here until they get a doctor. You got a backstage pass by passing out. A backstage pass out.” he tries to ease he situation with a pun but I’m not really in the mood.

“No… the scruff… the shoes… the ki… I can’t believe I said all this bullshit, this is worse than a nightmare…” I bury my face into my palms completely mortified and stumble back towards the couch dizzily. Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice… Mel!!!

***

“I’m not going to repeat this again, my best friend is in that room so if you won’t let me in immediately, I’m going to fuckin’ sue you!!!” Mel pointed with her index finger outraged at the huge guy standing in front of the door of the dressing room. Actually, instead of suing, she wanted to headbutt him in the chest but she knew it would feel like running into a concrete wall. She’d already been arguing with him for like fifteen minutes but the guy was just standing there with folded arms, stoically bearing the threats and the various spells casted on him by the furious girl.

“Hey, Ernie, I think you can let her in, her friend has just woken up, it’d be better if she’s with her when the doctor arrives…” a top of a head with ruffled hair peeked out of the door. The security guard obeyed and silently stepped aside.

“Maggie!!!” Mel shouted and tossed the young man in the door away to get a free way to her friend. “I was so worried about you!!!” she captured her into a rib-breaking hug.

“I’m… I’m okay… Stone took care of me…” Maggie mumbled against Mel’s chest trying to point at the guitarist under her friend’s arm.

“Stone???” Mel screamed making both of them turn around without breaking the hug.

“Yup.” the guitarist waved clumsily with one hand at her, digging his other hand deeply in his pocket.

Maggie managed to tiptoe enough to rest her head on her friend’s shoulder, which allowed her to saw the door opening… only to recognize the other members of the band arriving back from the stage. The small group was guided by Jeff who stopped at the door exchanging a surprised look with the embarrassed guitarist standing in the room.

Maggie started silently shaking of laughter because she could already imagine what’d happen next…

“Uhm… Mel… I’m choking… please let me go…” she acted patting her friend’s back a few times. “I think you should turn back… slowly…” she recommended biting her lips to hide her amusement when she pulled away to see the girl’s reaction.

“Why… what…?” Mel looked back over her shoulder and… due to the bassist’s excellent reflexes, she didn’t land on the ground but in his arms. Jeff stared shocked alternately at the unconscious girl and the other ones, begging for help with his eyes.

“Jesus, not again… “Stone sighed facepalming.” She’s yours, I’m out.”

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myrandomfandomramblings · 3 years

Text

Arrowverse Science Fair AU

~2004 National Highschool (Gr. 8-12) Science Fair

Projects:

Felicity Smoak (Gr. 9) – Computer software to detect card counters. She may or may not have hacked into online card games to test it (this wasn’t included in/on her project.)

Cisco Ramon (Gr. 8 or 9) – Piano playing robot. He thought it played better than Dante. His parents didn’t agree.

Caitlin Snow (Gr. 9) – Analysis of physiological response to various stimuli. She wanted to find stimuli that would help kids cope with traumatic experiences (say crashing their bike or losing their father.) If she was able to find something that made her mom show some/any emotion that would be a bonus.

Barry Allen (Gr. 9) – Growing crystals (lots of different and cool ones). His project started out as an attempt to make something special for Iris for her birthday but turned into an elaborate project. It ended up being a good choice because 1) it reminded Barry of his parents (the first science experiment they did together was grow Borax crystals on pipecleaner and 2) it followed Joe’s ‘your science fair project must make, not destroy things’ rule instated after Barry’s Gr. 6 project.

Alex (Gr. 9) and Kara (Gr. 8) Danvers – Birds in my Backyard. Eliza had insisted on Alex getting Kara involved in her science fair project this year. Alex was excited to show Kara the science fair experience she enjoyed but wanted to pick a topic she knew more about that Kara (her knowledge of math and science was intimidating enough without the superpowers). Seeing Kara’s interest in birds they decided to study birds in their backyard. With Alex’s design and Kara’s powers they built tall post’s and attached bird houses and feeders with differing properties. They then monitored which kinds of birds built nests and ate from where (with some help from Kara’s flight and X-ray vision). Alex also picked 5 nests from different species to chronicle the embryo and chick development. Kara enjoyed doing the project and learning about birds from Alex. The actual science fairs, not so much but those were Alex’s favourite part. Note: Streaky was locked in the house for the duration of the project so he wouldn’t eat any of the birds.

Winn Schott (Gr. 11) – Pop-up room/ room in a suitcase. Being in the foster system for the last couple years inspired Winn to design a room that collapsed to the size of a suitcase for easy transport but could expand in less than a minute into a nice-sized, fully-furnished, sound-proof room, so no matter how many times a foster kid was moved around they always had their own space and stuff. Also good for camping, travel and special short-term events (like waiting in line at conventions).

Lena Luthor (Gr. 5) – Oxygen absorbing/releasing crystal that could allow breathing underwater. After her Mum drown when Lena was four, she was determined to develop a simple way for people to breath under water. She was able to do just that by synthesizing a substance that absorbed and stored large amounts of oxygen then released it slowly (so if someone held in in their mouth, they could breathe underwater). She was happy and excited that her mom and older brother were interested in her project but a little frustrated and concerned that they were so focused on its ability to absorb all the oxygen from a room (in a big enough amount). Although she supposed it could be used in that capacity to control/extinguish fires. Note: although in elementary school, Lena got to compete against the high schoolers since her project was so advanced for her age.

Sara Lance (Gr. 11) – The Biomechanics of Dance and Martial Arts. As punishment for skipping classes, then sassing her teacher and principal when they tried to discipline her for skipping classes, Sara had to complete a science fair project. To make the best of it Sara chose something that interested her. In hindsight she wished she hadn’t. Her project was so good she was chosen to represent her school at the state and national science fair.

Ronnie Raymond (Gr. 9-12?)- Structural design to minimize Superman related damage in Metropolis. Ronnie was proud of his project and had enjoyed analyzing the powers of Metropolis’ hero, but he lost any chance he had at winning when he decided to leave his project to go flirt with Caitlin. At least Kara, whose project was next to his, seemed interested.

Hartley Rathaway – something to do with sound waves

Lily Stein (Gr. 11) – designing and comparing different miniaturized forms of renewable energy sources. She had some help from her dad.

Patty Spivot – Recreation of crime scene evidence using food models. A bunch of her friends (her whole cabin actually) from her summer camp for those interested in law enforcement came to support her.

- Maggie Sawyer – seemed really interested in the bird project

- Ralph Dibny – found every project that said it was OK to touch. His favourite was slime. To Patty’s surprise he didn’t break anything.

- Dinah Drake – hung out with Patty most of the time. Talked to Hartley, beside her, about his project on sound waves for a bit (seemed kinda interested). Patty joined her when she got into a conversation with Sara, across the way, and Laurel about the implications of her biomechanics project in fighting and self-defence. The rest of the time they talked about that Vince guy from camp Dinah thought was cute.

- Eddie Thawne – he hung out with Patty most of the time too but did do a lap of the fair with Iris, who was there supporting Barry, when she accepted his offer to buy her something at the concession.

Notable events:

- Clark came to see Alex and Kara’s project and brought James and Lois with him. Kara and Clark (very subtly) tested the models on the project beside them that had been abandoned and were said to be superman proof/resistant. They were very impressed to discover the models did indeed stand-up to heat vison, freeze breath and super-strength leading Clark to believe the student had a bright future. James spent most of his time talking to Winn about his pop-up room project because, “Don’t you think these would be way better than cubicles, the Daily Planet should definitely purchase some.”

- Cat Grant, a young reporter from the National City Tribune pushing a stroller, came around and interviewed all the contestants because, “What better place to find the next world changing innovator or innovation” as she put it when she stopped to talk to Clark (more like flirt Kara thought). Alex used Clark distracting Cat as an opportunity to play with the baby in the stroller. This was the only time during the entire science fair Alex was distracted, except maybe when Maggie had come, but they mainly talked about the project like Alex did with everyone, which left Alex wondering why it felt different. During their entire interview Cat called Kara Kira, much to her annoyance. At least the baby seemed to like her. This interview sparked a conversation between Kara, Lois and Clark about journalism which Iris overhead while she was visiting Barry and joined in.

- Graduate students Ray Palmer and Curtis Holt were volunteer judges and ticket takers. Curtis wore a varsity jacket over his shirt and tie which covered his name tag, but at every project he judged he would describe every aspect as terrific, so the contestants started calling him Mr. Terrific. While judging Barry’s project they began a discussion about their favourite elements/minerals/gems. Barry couldn’t decide so joked he liked Barium. Ray shared his love for dwarf star alloy with a ‘quick’ lecture about its rumoured properties and potential uses. Curtis listed at least 10 compounds essential for modern tech as he flip-flopped back and forth trying to decide a favourite and Lex Luthor who was visiting his sister’s project beside them interjected that he favoured kryptonite. While taking tickets Curtis witnessed the following interaction. He asked Damian Darhk, who was carrying baby Nora, what brought him to the science fair. He responded with “These are the brightest young minds in the country and being young means they are malleable. So, there is nowhere better to recruit future talent for my enterprise.” Malcolm Merlyn, who was behind, him added “I know exactly what you mean with what the world’s coming to we’re going to need a bright mind to save it.” This led Tommy, who was accompanying him, to say “I thought we were just here to support the Queen’s.” Then one of the other judges, Dr. Harrison Wells aka Eobard Thawne in disguise, added “No your Dad is right. This world’s next HERO could be in this very room. I’ve already made a list of students to keep my eye on.” He pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket. On it Curtis saw four names: Hartley Rathaway, Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow and Ronnie Raymond. This led to a long conversation between the three men about numerous threats to society, the country and the world and the possible drastic solutions that would need to be employed to stop them. When they left Curtis turned to Ray and asked, “Was it just me or were those Doomsday Dudes really creepy?” “What” Ray replied his attention clearly being pulled from elsewhere. But before Curtis could answer a voice behind him said “Doomsday Dudes is a terrible nickname you should call them the Legion of Doom.” Curtis turned to find Cisco. “Just saying,” he continued, “anyway I heard there’s free Big Belly Burger for the contestants. When’s that coming?” Ray had missed the entire conversation Curtis was asking about because he had been making funny faces at baby Nora the whole time hoping to make her smile or laugh but she had just stared at him with her big blue eyes.

- Queen consolidated gave out a $1500 scholarship and a summer internship at the applied sciences division. This year Moira and Robert had made Oliver come and brought 9-year-old Thea. Oliver was tasked with watching Thea who ran around the entire science fair wanting to look at and touch all the projects even the ones with big ‘Do Not Touch’ signs on them. She spent at least an hour trying to get everybody around the robot pianist to sing and dance with her. Most people ignored her although she was able to get Cisco, Winn, Stein, Joe, Kara (who kept trying to get Alex to join) and to Oliver’s surprise Malcolm Merlyn all to sing with her and they were all surprisingly good. She also got many people to dance including the Lance girls. She even convinced Cisco to make the robot play some of her favourite songs from Disney movies. Barry was very happy that he was able to convince Iris to dance with him for a couple songs with just a little encouragement from Thea and despite Kara’s constant encouragement Alex only agreed to dance when Maggie asked. Oliver had to present his family’s award which went to Felicity. When her name was announced Donna yelled “Woohoo, that’s my daughter! Way to go sweetie!” which earned a whispered “Mom, ssshh” and accompanied eye roll from Felicity as she headed to the stage with her head down and cheeks flushed. When she got onstage Oliver presented her with her award and Felicity began to babble, “Thanks. This is so cool. I’m such a big fan of yours… well not yours… your company… your family’s company. But uh you seem cool too. I could be a fan of yours, but not like a creepy stalker fan just like a normal supportive fan, ya know. I’m sorry, I’m rambling, it’s just, I don’t know what to say. Your very handsome… and I just said that out loud. I’m so sorry.” She stops and whispers “come on Smoak, pull yourself together,” then takes a deep breath before addressing Oliver again, “Thank-you again for the award and I look forward to working with you, or for you. I’m just gonna go now.” Oliver couldn’t help smiling as she left and thinking that just maybe if she had been around when Thea was partnering everyone up to dance he may have just participated.

- Kara quickly got bored of standing by her project and started wandering around to talk to the other contestants. She spent a good chunk of time talking to Barry. Tried to join in on a heated debate between Felicity, Cisco and Winn about the best language to code in but quickly left when she had no idea what they were talking about. She ended up spending most of her time with Lena. They talked about their projects, their lives and interests and about dealing with new and scary situations especially when you feel different from everyone else and learnt that they were both adopted. However, the whole time they were talking Lena’s eyes kept scanning the room as if waiting for something to jump out and scare her. Kara learnt why when a woman Kara thought must be Lena’s mother showed up and menacingly questioned why she was distracting her daughter.

- J’onn came in disguise to check out the Danvers sister’s project

#arrrowverse #this got way out of hand #supergirl #legends of tomorrow #the flash #arrow

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 4 years

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Unforgettable Memories ( Daryl Dixon x Reader )

Summary: Y/N Grimes is Rick’s younger sister. You used to be in the military and have enough PTSD to last a lifetime. With Shane’s help you created the quarry camp and came across the Dixon brother’s in the woods. You bought them back to camp, but after that everything changed and you were still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or not.

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Rick’s Sister!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Blood, guts, language (just usual twd warnings) flashbacks, ptsd

Chapter 31-

The next morning you, Daryl, Sophia, Judith, Rick, Michonne and Tara all made the trek to Kingdom. Tara wanted to tag along because apparently she wanted to live at Hilltop and help Maggie run the community and Rick didn't try make her stay even though everyone was sad that she was leaving.

Tara and Michonne sat up the front controlling the horses while you sat in the back of the cart with Daryl, Rick and the kids. You knew Michonne wasn't too keen on taking Judith outside the walls, but seemed to relax a bit when you said Sophia was going to come too because like hell you were leaving her in Alexandria when everyone you trusted was leaving.

It took all morning and most the afternoon to get to Kingdom, but you eventually got to the community as the tall walls came into view. Apparently it was only an hour or so trip back when they had fuel to run the cars or something, but now it took nearly all day which made sense why Rick suggested staying there the night.

You took in the large walls of the community as Tara and Michonne slowed the horses down in front of the gates and greeted some woman named Diane as she opened them.

Once you were inside the community you could see a man with dreadlocks walking down the street towards you and right beside him was Carol. The two of them looked confused when they saw Tara and Michonne and you knew they couldn't see the rest of you inside the cart as the horses stopped.

Rick climbed out as he grabbed Judith and walked around the side of the cart towards Carol and the man who was apparently named King Ezekiel, yes they had given you the whole rundown about this place and now you understood the name.

"Oh my God, Rick!" Carol shouted and you smiled watching on while inside the cart, not ready to get out just yet as you watched Carol run over to Rick who handed Judith to Michonne before pulling Carol into a hug as Ezekiel patted him on the back.

"Ya alright?" Daryl asked from beside you, noticing you staring at Carol as tears began rising in your eyes. You hadn't seen Carol for years, the last time you had even spoken to her was before her daughter died, she never talked to you for those few days afterwards. How was she going to react when she saw you? How was she going to react when she finds out that you named your daughter after her daughter?

"Hey, look at me. It's alright, I know it's a lot to take in." Daryl said softly as he reached for your hand and squeezed it gently.

"That's an understatement." You replied before Daryl climbed out the back of the cart and helped you out too since you were still recovering from the gunshot wound to your knee.

You grabbed Sophia and put her on the ground beside you, but she immediately grabbed your hand and you knew she was anxious seeing all of this for the first time and you were too.

"How are you alive? We thought you were dead." Carol questioned, after she finished hugging Rick and commenting with how big Judith had gotten as looked between Rick, Michonne and Tara before you and Daryl walked out from behind the cart, his arm over your shoulder as he helped you walk while Sophia held your hand.

"I found him on the riverbank and patched him up. Although, it wasn't the kind of reunion I had been hoping for since he went into a damn coma for a month and nearly died on me, but it worked out in the end." You called out unable to stop yourself from smiling as Carols head quickly spun around in your direction clearly recognising your voice and when her eyes landed on you she had to cover her mouth with her hands as she stared at you in disbelief.

"Who is this lady with Daryl?" The King questioned, glancing over at Carol in confusion before Rick spoke up.

"King Ezekiel, meet my sister and Daryl's girlfriend, Y/N." Rick introduced pointing towards you and the mans face immediately broke out in a friendly smile as he looked between you, Daryl and the little girl beside you.

"We thought you were dead... No way, is this your daughter? Is she Daryl's?" Carol questioned as she walked over to you, her eyes flashing between you and Sophia and you couldn't form the right words as tears began to fall down your cheeks, so you just nodded before Carol pulled you into a tight hug as Daryl let go and picked up Sophia. "I'm so glad you're okay, I can't believe you're here." She said as you hugged her back.

"Carol, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." You whispered, unable to stop the tears that were pouring down your cheeks causing Carol to pull away in confusion, her hands still on your shoulders. "Sophia, your daughter... It was my fault, it was all my fault. You asked me to look after her and I gave her a pocket knife and-"

"Y/N, it wasn't your fault." Carol interrupted, but you shook your head and looked down at the ground unable to see the sad look in the other woman's eyes. "I'll admit for a while I blamed you because it was easier to blame someone than deal with it, but it wasn't your fault. You were trying to protect her and broke your wrist trying to find her. Between you and Daryl, you did more than anyone for my little girl." Carol insisted as she pulled you into another tight hug.

"Now, what this little princesses name?" She asked, looking over at Sophia who was sitting in Daryl's arms and watching her curiously.

"Sophia." Your daughter answered and you quickly looked over at Carol, not quite sure how she was going to react, but to your relief a giant smile broke out on her face as quickly she glanced over at you and mouthed 'thank you' before she turned back to Sophia and began talking to your daughter.

Once everyone had caught up and Carol and Ezekiel introduced their son, Henry, to you and Sophia. Ezekiel took the group of you into the theatre room so you could all sit down while he and Rick began discussing plans for the future with all four communities- yes, they told you about Oceanside on the long ride here.

You weren't really listening as you mucked around with Sophia beside Daryl, but you heard bits and pieces about another community called Sanctuary or something and how they were bad people and now they were all gone or something.

"Eugene was talking about building something, can't think of the name, but something so all the communities can communicate with each other. Like through a device that each community has, so we can keep in contact and stuff." Tara suddenly spoke up which caught your attention because that sounded like a really cool idea.

"Can he actually make something like that?" Rick asked, clearly interest too as everyone looked over at the woman.

"He thinks he could, he just needed some place up high to put it that's roughly between all the communities, so the signal could reach everyone and apparently he knows the perfect place." Tara answered.

The group of continued talking for a while, sharing ideas and eventually coming up with some kind of monthly trade market where each community would take turns hosting a market. People would gather and bring homemade and homegrown items like food, weapons, clothes and linen like blankets, cloths, pillows, really anything. Hilltop were more of a farming community so they'd have different stuff to trade compared to Oceanside which is more of fishing community and will have other items to trade.

It made sense and everyone seemed to like the idea, so Kingdom were going to send a few people to Oceanside tomorrow while you guys went to Hilltop and see if the other two communities liked the idea and wanted to join.

Ezekiel showed you all were you could stay for the night and said breakfast would be ready before you all set off to leave. You and Daryl had your own room with two beds and to your surprise Sophia didn't argue and seemed to almost enjoy having her own bed while you and Daryl shared the other.

If you were being honest it was probably the best sleep you've had in years, probably since you and Shane lived in that library and slept on those ridiculously comfy couches. If only Shane was here now, he'd be so happy to see his daughter so grown up and you knew he missed Rick as much as you did. But, if it wasn't for Shane than neither you or Sophia would be back with them today and Rick would be dead or being used for human trafficking. You owed Shane Walsh everything.

After breakfast the group of you headed off to Hilltop after saying goodbye to Carol and Ezekiel. On the ride to Hilltop, Rick and Daryl gave you the rundown of Maggie's community because apparently she was the leader there and had a son that Glenn never got to meet and named him Hershel Jr.

They also told you that her righthand man who helps her run the community was Jesus, well it was his nickname and apparently you'd realise why it's his nickname when you saw him so you just nodded and went along with it.

As you pulled up to the front of the community you immediately realised why they had referred to it as the farming community by all the crops and gardens they had set up in front of the tall wooden walls. This community definitely suited Maggie with the whole farming theme, Hershel would be proud of her, Beth too.

"What are you guys doing here? Not that I'm complaining, we haven't seen each other since..." An unfamiliar male voice said, trailing off at the end as you all began climbing out the cart and your eyes landed on a man wearing a long sleeved blue henley shirt and jeans, but you noticed his long beard and long hair that seemed to be tied up in a bun behind his head.

"Oh, he's got be Jesus." You commented, clearly saying it too loudly because he quickly looked over at you with an amused expression. "Sorry, I just get why that's your nickname now, I was so confused earlier. Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N Grimes, Daryl's girlfriend." You said holding your hand out towards the man.

"Paul Rovia, although as you know most people call me Jesus, your pick." Jesus replied as he shook your hand before he suddenly he stopped and stared at you. "Did you say that your last name was Grimes?"

"Yes, she did. Jesus, meet my long lost sister who also saved my life." Rick said from somewhere behind you and the mans eyes darted over your shoulder and went wide in shock. "Yeah, I'm back." Rick added as Jesus walked over to him and pulled him into a hug.

"Maggie and Enid are going to flip. Come on, they're in her office with Hershel." Jesus quickly said and you smiled softly at how excited the man was with reuniting Rick and the others, although you had no idea who Enid was, but she obviously knew Rick.

You glanced over your shoulder as Daryl walked up to you, Sophia walking beside him holding his hand and the smile on your face grew even wider watching Daryl and your daughter get along so well.

Daryl eye's locked with yours and seemed to read what you were thinking as his lips twitched up in a slight smile before he held his free arm out towards you and you took it as the group of you began following Jesus towards the large mansion in the middle of the community.

You knee was starting to hurt after all the walking you have done today and the stairs inside the mansion really sucked. But, you managed to limp up the stairs, Jesus sending you a worried look before Daryl told him that you were shot a couple days ago which seemed to worry him even more, but you insisted that you were fine.

"Maggie, it's Jesus. I have some people who really need to see you." Jesus called out as he knocked on a door to his right and slowly opened it. Michonne and Tara walked in first followed by Daryl, you and Sophia and then Rick who was holding Judith.

You glanced around the room spotting Maggie sitting on the ground on a blanket with a baby playing on the ground beside her along with another girl sitting on a desk watching them.

"Rick? Y/N? Holy s..." Maggie trailed off and you weren't sure if it was because she didn't want to swear in front of the kids or she was just too shocked to finish her sentence as she quickly stood up and rushed over to the two of you and seemed to be conflicted with who to greet first, but you quickly motioned towards Rick.

Maggie instantly hugged Rick, being mindful of Judith in his arms as he hugged her back and you knew the woman was crying as Rick whispered to her that he was okay, that everything was okay.

After a few minutes she pulled away wiping her eyes before Enid walked over hugging Rick and Maggie glanced over at you. That was all it took before the tears began to fall down your cheeks as you stared at your long lost friend and instantly pulled her into a tight hug.

"I thought you were dead, I thought you were both dead." Maggie whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"I found this dumbass practically bleeding out along the riverbank and figured I should probably help him." You joked trying to lighten the mood since over half of the people standing in the room were either in tears or close to it, causing everyone to chuckle.

"Your son is beautiful, Maggie." You said a few seconds later, looking over at the baby boy who was now in Jesus' arms. He looked so much like Glenn already.

"Thank you, is this your daughter?" Maggie asked, looking over at the little girl holding Daryl's hand and you nodded. "I didn't even know you were pregnant! Y/N, you should have told me, you were sleeping out in a tent while I was sleeping in a comfy bed back on the farm." Maggie said as she stared at your little girl before glancing between you and Daryl.

"Kinda hard to tell you when I didn't even know I was pregnant until a couple weeks after we all got separated." You responded causing Maggie to look at you in shock.

"You had to go through all that alone?"

"No, I got out the farm with Shane. He helped me with everything, we'd both be dead if it wasn't for him." You replied with a sad smile and Maggie seemed to be relived with the news but also worried all over again and you knew she was wondering where Shane was.

"Shane didn't make it, some guy killed him when he tried protecting me and Sophia." You said motioning towards the little girl beside Daryl.

"I'm so sorry." She replied, knowing that Shane was like a brother to you before she glanced over at Hershel. "I know what it's like, the same happened to Glenn, but at least his murder is rotting in a cell." She added causing you to frown. Did she say that Glenn's murder was in a cell? They let the person who killed Glenn live?

"I know what you're thinking and for a long time I wanted Negan to die for what he did, but he's already worse than dead in that cell back in Alexandria." Maggie explained and everything just came to a sudden stop as you froze. She said Negan. That was the name of the man who killed Shane, that was the same name!

"What weapon did he use to do it?" You questioned and you saw everyone in the room turn to you in shock and you knew it was a horrible question, but Negan was a rare name and there can't be two Negan's running around with baseball bats wrapped with barbed wire. Maggie stared at you for a few seconds, not expecting that upfront question before she cleared her throat.

"Baseball bat with barbed wire wrapped around it." She answered her expression hardening as she stared at you and you could feel your hands starting to tremble at your sides as you realised that the man who killed Shane wasn't just still alive, but he was living in Alexandria. The same place you and Sophia had been staying. Negan had been there the whole time.

"Why do you want to know?" Maggie questioned when you didn't respond to her and shook your head trying to get yourself to calm down.

"Watch Sophia, I need a minute." You quickly said, not looking at anyone in particular as you spoke before you rushed out the room. You heard Rick and Daryl shout your name in confusion, but you ignored them as you rushed out the room and made your way back down the stairs, not caring about the sharp pain searing through your knee as you took two stairs at a time before you rushed out the front door.

You had no idea where you were going, but you knew you needed to be alone. You made your way around the back of the large mansion and to your relief there was nobody around this side of the community.

He was alive. Negan was alive. The man who brutally murdered Shane was still alive and they had him living in some cell in Alexandria, what the fuck?

You leant your back against the brick wall of the mansion and covered your face with your hands as you tried to control your breathing, but everything was just spinning and you knew you were on the blink of a panic attack. You used to get them when you first came back from Afghanistan, but you hadn't had one in years.

You didn't know what to do as your legs trembled from underneath you and you knew you should sit down before you collapsed. You dropped to the ground, wincing at the pain it caused your leg as you rested your back against the wall behind you and tried to take a few deep breaths. But, you couldn't stop the tears from falling down your cheeks as memories from that day flashed through your mind.

The way Negan leant down in front of you and tried to reach for Sophia and then Shane spear tackled him away from you. The way Shane tried so hard to protect you before Negan grabbed that fucking bat and ended it all within a second. The awful crunching sound you heard every night in your dreams as Negan's bat connected with Shane's skull. The way his body hit the ground and Negan continued to swing his bat until you couldn't recognise your best friend lying on the ground.

"Daryl, Rick, she's over here!" Jesus' voice shouted in the distance, but you could barely hear him as you closed your eyes unable to get that memory out of your mind. It was like your brain was just playing it on replay and there was nothing you could do to stop it as you buried your face into your hands.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Daryl questioned, but he might as well be talking to a brick wall because you couldn't hear him over the blood rushing through your ears. You could feel his hands on your good knee, but you couldn't respond, you couldn't pull yourself out of the memories as they flooded your mind. "Rick? What do I do? She ain't responding?"

"Shit, I've seen this before. When she first came back from Afghanistan, she'd go into this state of flashbacks and a panic attack all in one, PTSD stuff, I didn't know she still got them." Rick answered, dropping to his knees beside Daryl who was crouching down in front of you, but you couldn't see them.

"How do we get her out of it?" Daryl questioned in panic, but didn't wait for Rick to answer as he grabbed your shoulders. "Y/N, c'mon, girl. Ya gotta snap out of it." Daryl muttered, shaking your shoulders gently before he grabbed your hand and moved it away from your face.

"Y/N, whatever you're seeing, it's not real. Y/N, please." Rick begged as Daryl cupped the side of your face with his hand as slowly you opened your eyes, the images of Negan and Shane slowly disappearing as you took in Rick and Daryl's worried faces.

"I-It was real." You whispered, shaking your head causing Rick and Daryl to frown as more tears fell from your cheeks. "Negan."

"How do you know Negan?" Daryl asked, quickly glancing over at your brother who just shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

"He killed... he killed Shane. Negan killed Shane, right in front of me, right in front of Sophia- Sophia, where is she?" You quickly questioned once your mind slowly began to clear and you realised your daughter wasn't with Daryl anymore.

"In Maggie's office with the others, she's fine. Y/N, are you it's the same man?" Rick asked, although by the look on his face he knew the answer to the question and quickly shook his head.

"Shit." He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands because he knew exactly what you wanted to do. You might have been apart for over five years, but he still knew you better than he knew himself.

"Why isn't he dead? He killed Glenn, how could you just throw him in a cell in the same community that Judith and Michonne sleep in?" You questioned, looking over at Rick while Daryl stayed crouched where he was, not wanting to get in the middle of this.

"I wanted to, I really wanted to, but Carl had a vision... he had a vision of a better future where all the communities could work together, live together, including the Sanctuary where the Saviours were." Rick tried explained, but you just stared at him in disbelief. He couldn't be serious? Back on the farm he agreed to killing Randall, but he wouldn't kill Negan after he murdered Glenn?

"It's Glenn!" You shouted, sudden anger taking over your body as you stood up, wincing as you moved your knee quickly causing Daryl to quickly stand up in worry, but your eyes were locked with Rick's. "It's Glenn! He was the purest out of all us and he had a unborn baby with Maggie!"

"You think I don't know that?!" Rick snapped, standing up too and staring at you before he shook his head and rubbed his face with his hands. "I had the same conversation with Daryl a month ago and Maggie has moved on, she knows Negan is suffering more in the cell than he ever would. I don't want to argue with you, Y/N. We just got each other back, can we not argue?"

"I'm not going to argue with you, Rick. But, when I get back to Alexandria I'm going to kill Negan like I should have done two years ago." You responded, adjusting the strap of your assault rifle over your shoulder as you stared at your brother just daring him to say no.

"We kept Negan alive in that cell to show that we were making a new future. Keeping him alive is how we made sure it didn't go back to how it used to be with the Saviours." Rick explained, but before you could say anything Daryl spoke up.

"Rick, the Saviours are gone." He muttered, clearly unsure if Rick knew that or not and you had no idea what he was talking about, but by the sound of it all the Saviours were dead and that was better for everyone.

"I know, Michonne told me last night." Rick replied with a sigh, but he seemed sort of relived that they were dead so at least you agreed on something.

"Rick, I get it. I get why you had to keep him alive back then, but things have changed now. The Saviours are dead and he killed Shane. Shane Walsh, he was practically a brother to us, Rick! And Negan killed him. He bashed his head in with that baseball bat right in front of me and Sophia and he enjoyed it." You said, your voice wavering at the end as you thought of Shane before you shook your head. "Say whatever you want, but I'm killing him."

Rick didn't say anything for a few seconds as he stared at you, taking in the tear stains over your cheeks from earlier before he nodded reluctantly. "Alright, alright."

You got back to Alexandria by nightfall. Rick hadn't spoken to you since your conversation earlier and you were pretty sure he regrets saying yes to you, but you weren't going to let Negan live after what he did. Shane was dead because of him, so why should he get to live?

Daryl wanted to come with you, not liking the idea of you being alone with Negan, but you had to do it alone. Plus, you needed Daryl to look after Sophia because you were pretty sure Rick was pissed at you which meant Michonne probably was too.

You slowly walked down the stairs that lead to the cell, telling the man standing guard that you were there to take over and he seemed relived about that because he didn't ask any questions and just left the building as you opened the door and walked in.

You placed the lantern you were holding on the ground letting it light up the room as you looked over at the cell spotting Negan fast asleep on his stretcher bed. Of course they gave him a fucking bed, because God forbid that he gets a sore back from sleeping on the floor or something, but whatever.

"Hey, wake the fuck up!" You shouted hitting the metal bars of cell causing him to quickly sit up in shock as he glanced around the room until his eyes landed on you. It took him a few seconds to figure out who you were before his face broke out in a grin. "Good, you remember me."

"Damn right I do. You shot up my men, killed four of them too and stole my truck." Negan responded, throwing his legs over the side of his bed as he stared up at you. His hair had been cut short and his stubble had turned into a full length grey beard and you had to admit he looked shitty, but he still was breathing and that was more than what Shane was doing.

"You murdered my best friend, I should have done a hell of a lot more than kill your men and take your damn truck." You responded causing Negan to just grin. "You think this is funny?"

"You're here to finish the job, aren't you? About damn time. The Asian mans wife didn't have the balls, do you?" He asked, standing up from his bed as he walked towards you, his hands resting over the bars of his cell as he stared at you.

"Stupid fucking question." You responded as you pulled out your silenced handgun from your holster and aimed it at Negan's forehead between the bars.

"Do it. Pull the trigger." Negan ordered, pressing his head against the bars as he stared at the handgun. "I bashed your friends head in with my bat. I did right in front of you and your little girl. So pull the damn trigger!" He shouted.

"Why do you want to die?" You questioned as you pulled the slide back, cocking the handgun before you took a few steps towards him, resting the barrel of the gun against the middle of his forehead. "Answer me!"

"I want to be with my wife. Kill me!" Negan yelled, closing his eyes and well you were not expecting him to react like this at all. You expected him to try put up a fight, to try and beg for his life, but it was the opposite, he was begging you to end his life.

"Okay." You replied and squeezed the trigger.

NEXT CHAPTER

A/N- Link in bio for Masterlist. I will reblog with my Daryl Dixon Tag List. If you want to be added to the list, just comment below.

Well, that just happened. Negan is dead (sorry to all my Negan fans, but he murdered Shane and I couldn't just let that slide) What did you guys think about this chapter? I would love to hear your thoughts below.

Anyway, there is one more chapter left and it will be up next weekend, so until then stay safe everyone and have a great day xx

#Daryl Dixon #The Walking Dead #Daryl Dixon x Reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #Norman Reedus #Rick Grimes #Shane Walsh

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xmeetyoutherex · 5 years

Text

Dusty Records (c.h.) - Part One

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: Calum decides to go record shopping and in the end, he gets more than just a dusty record sitting on the shelves.

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to write this. I was busy with finals and all that. This is only part one and I honestly don’t know if there will only be two parts or not, so we’ll see. As always let me know what you think and come talk to me about. If all goes as planned the second part will be up by next Friday. I also made a playlist for this fic so check my masterlist for the link and to read my other stuff. Thanks for reading! (oh and if I tagged you it was because you showed interest in me writing a fic after reading the headcannon, let me know if you don’t want to be tagged or if you do) oh and i didn’t really edit this sooooo sorry:)

Margaret was collecting records and CDs that had just came in that needed to be shelved. They were all newly released albums such as Billie Eilish, Khalid, and some other big artists that she had never took the time to listen to. She worked at an old record shop in the poorer part of the city, better known as the south side. It was a cozy store. She got to know some of the customers very well because they were never really crowded, and it was usually always just regulars. Occasionally someone new would wonder through the doors, but that was usually the only time she ever saw them.

When Maggie first started working there her friend used to joke with her that she wouldn’t make any money because she as soon as she got her paycheck she would go and spend on the record she had been eyeing all week. Margaret had an unhealthily huge record collection living in her apartment. She had started when she was only ten years old and her dad had decided to give her his. He had R.E.M, Led zeppelin, Elton John, and so many more. All comprising of different styles of music that caused Margaret in turn to have no exact genre she loved most. She would always tell people she preferred rock and alternative, but if someone caught a glimpse of her collection, they probably wouldn’t believe her.

But her broad love for music made her perfect for running a record store having been raised on the idea of “appreciating music for what it is and not by the category it falls under.” She was always able to spark a conversation with anyone who came in and help them find the perfect album for what they were looking for. Her broad love for music was also very annoying to her close friends because her playlists in the car can go from soft pop music to heavy metal screamo music. If Maggie is being honest with herself, she finds her taste in music disgustingly broad.

Currently there were only a couple people browsing the sections and none of them appeared to need any help. While she was getting the new records ready to be put out, she was talking to her coworker who was also one of her closest friends. “I’m working every day this week, so no I can’t go on a double date with you.” Leah just scoffed at her.

“You’re just saying that because you already think he’s a dud.” Leah was currently sitting on the stool behind the register looking over at Maggie work.

Maggie could only laugh at her friends comment because it was partially true. She got off work at 6:00 pm, plenty of time to get ready and go on a date. “That may be true, but when are they not duds.” Maggie smirked downward at the records that still needed to be taken out of the boxes in front of her.

“Come on Mags,” Leah sighed, “life is not a cliché love song engraved on one of your records. You gotta go on the cringy dates to finally go on the noncringy dates.” Leah looked genuinely concerned for her friends love life. It was truly a tragic one. None of Maggie’s relationships lasted very long. The longest one she ever had was about four months. She honestly thought something was wrong with her. No one ever seemed to stay long, they all got bored and fast. She was ready to give up on love all together. Her friends used to get mad at her for how negative she was about love, but after she was cheated on for a second time, none them had it in them to argue with her anymore, well except Leah. She was only twenty- two and preparing herself to live a long lonely life. Like Leah said none of it is like the love songs engraved on one of her old dusty records, but she can help but think to herself that if it was love that she was supposed to feel shouldn’t be like one of those old dusty records.

Maggie looked Leah in the eyes and sighed. “I will go on all the cringy dates,” Leah began to smile at that, but Maggie cut her off by continuing with, “but I will choose the cringy person. Okay?”

Leah let out an annoyed huff, “fine,” and slouched back against the wall making sure the stool was close enough so she wouldn’t fall off. Maggie just smiled a small one as she looked back down at the record boxes and picked up the ones ready to be shelved.

……..

The boys had been on break for over a month and Calum had run out of things to do, to keep him occupied in his free time. Luke, Ash, and Michael were all spending their free time with there girlfriends and in Michael’s case his fiancé. Ashton had tried setting Calum up on a few blind dates, but for those to work Calum would have to show up to the date. So, as different way to pass the time Calum decided to ask Luke for ideas instead of Ashton. Luke proposed the idea of Calum going to record shop. Calum had never actually been to an actual record shop. He has bought ones online or gone to places like target to buy them, but never went to an actual record shop to hunt for the perfect record. But the issue was finding one. Luke’s girlfriend had sent him an address of one she used to go to all the time, but it was on the other side of town, the side of town he’s not too familiar with.

So, he set up his google maps on his phone and decided to take an hour trip across town. Calum decided to take Duke with him so the trip wasn’t as lonely. It would be a fun father son trip. Honestly Calum was excited to spend the day out with his dog.

……..

Before Calum got out of the car he put the windows down a little. It wasn’t very hot out, but he wanted to make sure Duke would be fine. He couldn’t be more than thirty minutes, but that was still long time for a dog to be in the car for that long.

“I promise I won’t be long,” Calum quickly pet duke’s head and closed his door and looked through the cracked window and continued with, “don’t get into to trouble, okay?” he then laughed a little to himself because people probably think he’s a little crazy talking to a dog.

Calum scanned the parking lot and noticed that there wasn’t that many cars. Only about four including his. Unless the staff of the store parks in the back, they must not get much business. He couldn’t help but wonder how a place like this can stay in business if no one is here, but then he reminds himself that most people are work eight to five jobs and it is ten in morning. so he makes his way to the doors and check to make sure they are open and the sign adorning the door tells him that they have been open since nine.

When he enters the door makes a little ding sound and when he looks up, he notices a bell attached to the top to alert the staff when someone enters the store. But when he looked around the store, he didn’t see anyone else. It could be because of the endless aisles and racks filled with CDs and records. It appeared endless. Calum began to roam the aisles, as he looked, he came across so many albums that he forgot even existed. Then he heard muffled talking form the next aisle.

Calum honestly forgot that there could possibly be other people in the store, considering there was basically no one in the parking lot and he hadn’t even seen a sales person asking him if he needed any help with anything. Ha decided to walk to the end of the row he was in and make his way into the row that he thought the talking was coming form. When he rounded the corner two people came into sight. One appeared to be a much older man, at least in his late sixties or early seventies, and the other was a young girl, not too young she looked about his age maybe a year or two younger, but that could be because she a sort of baby face to her. She was wearing skinny black ripped jeans, they were only ripped around the knee, and a black t-shirt that looked like a shirt one would buy from hot topic. She also had black vans on to match her black outfit. The thing that was drew Calum’s attention the most were the black bands tattooed around her upper arm and right below her elbow. It immediately reminded him of the same ones decorating Michael’s skin. Her hair was short just passing her shoulders and it had a slight purple tint to it indicating that she probably ha dyed it and the color was fading out.

Calum was pulled out of her thoughts by her voice speaking up again in response to the man standing in front of her. As she spoke Calum busied himself with looking at the records to his left. “If she’s starting a collection, I strongly recommend this album.” He looked up to see what album she was referring to and saw that it was Rumours by Fleetwood Mac, truly one of the best albums he had ever listened to himself. “You said she’s turning sixteen, right?”

The older man nodded his head, “Yeah, her mother told me she wanted to start a vinyl collection cause apparently it’s the cool thing these days.”

The girl let out a slight laugh but tried to stifle it so she could talk. “Well then if she’s doing it to be cool this is a great option. It an old album so it will get her a lot of points on the grunge front and if she ever decided to give it a spin on the player, she will fall in love with out a doubt.” She smiled up at the man as she spoke.

“Well, you look close to her age so I’m going to trust you on this.” The man clearly was joking with her at this point.

As she began to turn to turn to lead the man to the cash register Calum noticed her name tag said Margaret, and she was turning she spoke, “Okay, lets get you checked out then huh?” the older man only smiled at her and followed her to the front of the store.

Calum continued looking at the records, but he couldn’t get himself to focus on what was in front of him. Her smile was partially engraved in his mind already. He tried to focus on the Led Zeppelin albums, but then the bell that he heard when he entered the store was ringing again. He looked up for what was in front of him a realized that all he didn’t hear anyone talking anymore. Cal began walking in the direction in which Margaret had led the guy down when taking him to the cash register. On his way in that direction he mindlessly grabbed an album from one of the shelves.

He noticed Margaret was now sitting behind the register scrolling through her phone and there was also someone sitting next to her that he hadn’t seen when he walked in. It was another girl who looked to be the same age as Margaret, but she was wearing blue skinny jeans without a single rip in them and pair of pink tennis shoes to match the pink flowery shirt she was wearing. As Calum got closer they both looked up from their phones to look at him.

Margaret gave him a small smile with no teeth, and he noticed how her side swept bangs fell slightly in front of her right eye as she looked up. She immediately tucked her hair on the right side of her face behind her ear revealing multiple piercing on her ears. Once Calum was close enough she began talking, “What can I help you with.”

Calum simply held up the album he was holding and said, “Just this.” She began to laugh a little when she saw the album he was holding; it was same laugh he had heard her stifle earlier when talking to the older man about his granddaughter. He looked down at the what he was holding and noticed it was Taylor swift’s Fearless album and began to laugh himself.

Maggie wasn’t judging him for buying the album she just found It funny that this big guy in a leather jacket was buying an album she used to listen to religiously when she was in middle school. Mags couldn’t help but find it utterly adorable especially when he asked the question, “Is this one good?” the questioning look on his face made her slightly giggle again. She adverted her eyes to the register and began to ring him up.

When Maggie responded she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped with it, “It does have so great classics.” Leah really looked up from her phone to watch the event unfolding in front of her because she couldn’t believe her ears.

Calum was pleased with himself for getting her to laugh not only once but twice now. He tried to level his voice and sound as serious as he could when he said, “that’s why I picked it.” But Maggie and Leah could both hear the underlying amusement in his voice.

“Yeah, Okay.” Maggie’s smiled down at the register and read the price, “that will be sixteen dollars and ninety-nine cents.” She then held out her hand waiting for him to drop his credit card in it to which he did. She then proceeded to ask, “would like a bag?”

Calum took his credit card back and answered her question with a shake of the head. “No, I think I can manage.” He smiled at her then looked over at the other girl who had been looking at them for the last five minutes and smiled at her as well before saying, “Hope you both have a great day.” And turned around and left the store.

Once the bell had rung and the door had shut completely Leah looked at Maggie and exclaimed, “you never giggle.”

Maggie gave a look that could Leah refers to as her “what the fuck” look. “what does that even mean?”

Leah let out an annoyed huff. “It means, you don’t giggle. I have never seen a guy make you giggle, and he did.” Leah motioned toward the door of the shop when she referred to him. “and he is totally your type, and the way he was looking at you make me think you’re his.” When Maggie looked form the door back to Leah, she saw the obnoxious smirk Leah was wearing and couldn’t stop the annoyed words from leaving her mouth.

“In his dreams.”

tags: @lmao5sosimagines @snowflakegen @lynnskata @lvke-hemmings @notmyvalentyne @the5sosdumpster @calumisanactualangel @singt0mecalum @sweetcherrymike @irwnsrcses

#5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #calum hood #calum hood fanfic #5sos #calum hood imagine #calum hood x reader #5sos one shot #5sos blurb #5sos fic #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin imagines #ashton imagine #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin #luke hemming imagines #luke hemmings #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford

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snowpeawritings · 5 years

Note

Can I have Phoenix, Miles, Franziska, Maya and Gumshoe first meeting Gumshoe's detective partner, who's of high school age and kinda the polar opposite of him(Pushes aside emotions for logic, acts mature and cool-tempered, blunt and straightforward, unbiased, etc)?

im assuming work partner and not romantic partner or am i reading too much into this

Reader is gender neutral

CW (CONTENT WARNING): None

| Phoenix Wright |

- He’s seen a lot of weird people and meeting you while you were sticking next to Gumshoe was both normal and not normal at the same time.

- He’s seen enough smart-asses in his life to be immune to you. He doesn’t mind your bluntness when correcting Gumshoe with a mistake or questioning his logic during court hours. It’s safe to say that he’s used to children (E.G. Athena).

- Other than his otherwise nonchalance at you, he’s impressed that you were so smart for someone so young. He’s met a few child geniuses but none compared to you to practically put all the other detectives out of their jobs. It’s a nice change of pace to see someone mature in this profession for once.

- He finds it amusing to see you duke it out logically with Edgeworth. It’s hilarious to see the usual stoic man get riled up from having a formal debate with a person years under him. Phoenix definitely brings a camera and records the whole thing as blackmail for his best friend.

| Miles Edgeworth |

- He will not lose to you.

- Birds of a feather flock together sjsjssjs im sorry but do you have any idea how many people you destroyed at logic chess? It’s a homicide and Gumshoe is the witness.

- Jk jk, he definitely respects your intellectual prowess, thinking that people in law should be more like you. You’re someone worth debating over topics alongside with a cup of tea.

- He definitely sees himself in you, only a bit less cocky and more laid-back. People definitely notice that he’s softer towards you and it’s definitely comical. Especially when he tries to defend himself that you and he are just kindred spirits.

- Still finds a hard time believing that you tolerate Gumshoe, much less be his partner. He appreciates the man, don’t get him wrong. It’s just that there’s a certain amount of tolerance that he has when it’s with Gumshoe and he’s impressed that you were able to be his partner despite your age.

| Franziska Von Karma |

- 50% heart eyes and 50% (ง •̀_•́)ง

- Imagine logic chess but more aggressive. It’s always like that with you and she doesn’t know whether to enjoy it out pull her hair out because of it.

- She will also not lose to you. Just because you were her lover and you managed to steal her heart and have her be slightly softer and thus effectively not using her whip as often—she will not lose to you. Especially not with your unflinching face.

- Tag teams with you to just pester Edgeworth constantly. Her tilting smirk and condescending words along with your pressed lips and bored voice made him use up his entire aspirin stock.

- She’s confused as hell when she hears you were Scruffy’s partner. Before she even met you, she has another person to use her whip on but to her surprise (and slight chagrin), it turned out to be you. She never expected it but it did improve Gumshoe’s proficiency at the job so she’s chill about that and it saves Gumshoe from buying too much ointment.

| Maya Fey |

- Prepare to get murdered by friend.

- She’s ready to befriend the heck out of you and see your smile because she’s just like that. She is ready to bring her A-game and pester you with Steel Samurai and burger talk and jokes about Edgeworth.

- As a joke, she begins to impersonate your nonchalant expression and dull voice. Whenever there were investigations and you were questioning witnesses, she joins in and imitates what you said in an obnoxious voice that is so far from yours. You said to her that it was getting irritating but she was never the type to listen.

- Deep inside, she’s jealous that you were such a prodigy at a young age. You two were around the same age but you were more accomplished in your stuff than she is in her training. She knows that she shouldn’t be because it’s a different profession but the fact that you were amazing at a young age just eats her up.

- She does the imitation of you when Gumshoe messes up or fumbles with his words. She says some of your more iconic lines that just made Gumshoe flinch at her even though her impression of you is horrendous.

| Dick Gumshoe |

- He’s faced Miles and he’s faced Franziska so there was absolutely no way he’s going to get intimidated by his new partner.

- He just didn’t expect it to be a person years under him. I mean you could count Maya or Maggie but this is on a whole new level.

- He tries to be a good teacher, but it’s always the other way around. He teaches you a new word, you teach him 10. He starts deducing the murderer’s pathing, you already layered out the entire M.O. While most people would find it insulting, he appreciates the help. Lord knows he needs it for his salary.

- Speaking of salary, he pays you some since the department doesn’t seem to appreciate kids. Even if it brings pain to his wallet, brains like yours aren’t just a one-time use thing. He acknowledges your brain and he’s ever so thankful for it.

- Don’t worry though, Edgeworth caught wind of your non-paying job so he took it upon himself to pay you more than Gumshoe. As compensation for Gumshoe’s appreciation for you, you treat him to Eldoon’s noodles. A non-verbal thank you for keeping you with him.

#requests #headcanons #ace attorney #ace attorney imagines #phoenix wright #phoenix wright imagines #miles edgeworth #miles edgeworth imagines #franziska von karma #franziska von karma imagines #maya fey #maya fey imagines #dick gumshoe #dick gumshoe imagines

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allofmystudentsrunaway · 5 years

Text

Spn Coda:14x14#2: You know devils don't fly, So don't expect me not to fall

some sam-witch, cause i just want to see Dean and Cas, cope with Sam dating Rowena.

hurt/comfort

implied sex

hints of destiel

angst and trauma

with a happy ending

tag list @nobodys-baby-now @winsister91 @quailpower @cool-fallen-angel @super-sootica @that-smol-asexual-one @notalentdouchebag @finder-of-rings

gif by @marril96

Sam set a bottle on the table and a glass down in front of Rowena. “Is that the good stuff?” she asked picking it up to squint at the label. Sam shrugged.

“Best the Liquor store had.”

“It’ll have to do then” she twisted the cap off and took a sniff, “Well it’s no battery acid at least” the liquid sloshed into the tumbler. “Where’s your glass?”

“I better not, I should wait for Cas and Dean to come back.” Rowena rolled her eyes and pulled a face at him.

“I’m not drinking alone Samuel, go fetch yourself a glass.” Her tone brooked no argument, Sam gave up with a sigh.

“I’ll be right back” by the time he got back from the kitchen with one of the heavy, cut glass tumblers, Rowena had retrieved her hand bag and was carefully repairing her mascara. She peered at him over her compact mirror.

“Where’s Jack?”

“Believe it or not he is asleep, I just checked on him.” Sam poured himself a drink and settled back in his chair.

“Well the poor wee boy had a trying day, probably for the best.”She shut the compact with a snap and stowed it away in her bag. Silence hung between them, heavy and cloying like greasy smoke. Sam shifted in his chair, the last time they had sat together like this was when they had nearly lost Jack. He sipped his drink and tried to think of something to say, Rowena beat him to it.“Did he tell you?”

“Did who tell me what?” Sam asked, fatigue was starting to pull at his eyelids and his brain felt foggy. Rowena huffed and pursed her lips.

“Michael obviously, did he tell you why I said yes?”

“Yes. He said you did it to save us, to save all of us.” Sam leaned forward and took Rowena’s hand, she was staring off into the darkness of the library. “Thank you” he added, she pulled her hand away.

“I knew he was lying” she sniffed, “I thought maybe I could stop him.”

“Rowena, he was an arch-angel-”

“I had to try Samuel.” Her eyes strayed to where Maggie’s lifeless body had fallen, “That girl was so very young and I killed her.” her voice trembled and she fell silent. Sam stood up walked round the table and knelt down in front of her.

“It wasn’t you, it was Michael.” she was staring at her hands, a reformed lady Macbeth looking for the stain that wouldn’t wash away. Sam took her hands in his, he had never realised how small they were and Rowena did seem smaller now, deflated. She glanced down at him and he recognised the look in her eyes. It was the same shadow he saw in his own reflection sometimes, “Do you remember being possessed?”

“Aye” she nodded, “Every second of it, he wanted me awake, he wanted me to see-” her eyes flicked briefly shut and she took a deep shuddering breath. “That bastard wanted me to see everything. Was that what it was like for you? With Lucifer?”

“Yes, some of it.”

“How am I supposed to live with this Sam?” her voice was small and broken, a total change from her usual confident tones. Sam hated it, he hated seeing her like this, he squeezed her hands together.

“Rowena you are one of the strongest people I know.”

“Flatterer” she muttered.

“Maybe, but it’s true you will find a way to deal with this.”

“Did you? Find a way?” she demanded, Sam tried not to notice her freshly applied mascara was smudged again.

“Honestly, no not a good way. At least not yet.”

“You’re not exactly filling me with confidence here Sam.” The teasing tone was back in her voice. Sam smiled at her then realised what he was feeling and who the feeling was for. He froze for a moment and wandered if Rowena knew what he was thinking. A glance confirmed she did, she tilted her head and smiled.

“Uh maybe I should go.” He started to get up, he could already feel the blush creeping up his neck, but Rowena threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. He stood up in surprise, Rowena dangling comically.

“Samuel Winchester, either kiss me or put me down!” Sam stared down at her, this was Rowena, the most powerful witch in the world and a woman he had tried to kill on multiple occasions. But he wanted her and that confused the hell out of him.

“Sam?”she prompted “If I fall from this height I could break an ankle!” In response he wrapped his arms round her slight form and pressed his lips against hers.

“I’m not going to let you fall.”

Dean was only half awake when he stumbled into the kitchen the next day, so it took him a second or two to register Rowena sat sipping coffee. Nothing unusual in that, what confused him was she was wrapped in one of Sam’s old shirts and seemingly nothing else. She raised her mug at him in salute.

“Morning Dean” Sam called cheerfully from the stove, Dean could smell eggs frying now. He walked over to his brother.

“Sam, am I hallucinating?” he whispered, wandering if perhaps the gorgon had done some permanent damage to his head.

“Nope.” Sam grinned at him.

“Isn’t she a little old for you?” he tried.

“How old is Cas, to the nearest billion?”

“okay you win!”

“I can hear you Dean” Rowena called out, Dean shrugged at her.

“I can’t deal with this right now, I’m going back to bed.”

“Say good morning to Cas”

#sam winchester #samwitch #rowena #spn coda #deancas

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post-itpenny · 5 years

Text

Changes

Some mafia AU. Tagging both @clownsgobeepbeep and @grotesquegabby since your characters are mentioned. Also, we get to learn a little about what Magpie used to do for the mafia.

Vespers had heard many a story about Aunt Magpie when she still “worked.”

Magpie has been one of the best contractors in the city. Vespers recalled hearing how she could send a bullet clean through a man’s ear canal from a hundred yards away. That she once had to take out her target in a room full of police, successfully doing so without getting caught and using only a safety pin and a slice of grapefruit.

She was who they sent to take out anyone who needed discretion. High profile members of other gangs, influential people of the city, cleaning house amongst their own ranks. She could create a weapon out of anything and could kill anyone with anything in as quiet and efficient a manner as possible. She was their angel of death.

But the aunt Vespers remembered from his childhood always came home exhausted, bloody, and sad. She had at some point started to hate her job no matter how good at it she was. She was miserable, just as miserable as she was now.

Vespers took one step into the antique shop and flinched at the sight of his aunt. She stood behind the counter gripping a cup of tea, her eyes red and puffy, her white hair had been hastily thrown into a bun. He doubted she had been getting much sleep. Magpie had been devastated upon hearing the news that her brother planned to allow Maggie to be arrested, relieved when she learned someone had sent a lawyer to get her out (someone had also paid for her hospital bills and Vespers suspected that one might not have been the D’Vitts.), but Maggie had been expected to resume working as if nothing had happened. Considering her injuries work wasn’t even an option for the next several weeks. Maggie had been angry and frustrated as she fumbled through one or two jobs before suddenly announcing she was leaving.

When they heard she now worked for the Bluebloods it came as both a surprise and a slap in the face.

Magpie was terrified for her adopted daughter, Peregrine insisting that Maggie not even be allowed to come collect her belongings made it worse.

Vespers ran his hands through his hair as he stomped upstairs into the small apartment his aunt used to share with Maggie, going into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea. He couldn’t help but notice a bag sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. He wondered if perhaps his aunt planned to try and bring Maggie some of her belongings but shook his head at the thought. After the bridge stunt the Jester crew had grown quiet, message received.

Almost.

Jack himself had been spotted the next day directly across the street from the shop. The sidewalk was crowded so taking him out was a no, but ever since Magpie was nervous to leave. Peregrine arranging so there was someone guarding the place 24/7.

Vespers gripped the edge of the countertop as he waited for the kettle to boil. He was so angry at Maggie for abandoning them, especially when Magpie needed her the most. But at the same time, could he blame her?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a small but crowded restaurant two men sat talking. Their conversation was hushed, one clearly nervous of being overheard. But there was nothing to fear, families sat around them and the occasional group of coworkers taking a quick lunch. The business they discussed was safe.

Neither man noticed the woman who sat in a nearby corner. No one ever did.

It was something the old woman had taught Maggie, you aren’t noticed if you are not noticeable.

She sat hunched over a cup of tea and a pastry. The redhead looked rather down and out with one arm in a cast and sling, one foot propped up. Not much of a threat at all really.

She took a sip of tea, and listened. It didn’t matter how loud the restaurant was, that was just a matter of tuning out the background noise. So she listened to the nervous man give information that was never meant to be said and Maggie took mental notes that she would have to write down later. She was thankful this job was so easy, Maggie could walk now but too much was painful and she still had another week or so to go in the cast. A small pin could be seen peeking out from under the sling that held up her arm. Black wings on either side of a halo that was designed like thin rays of light. The star at the center a series of broken half circles.

She shifted uncomfortably at the thought of the thistle tattoo that was between her shoulder blades. She was relieved Blueblood didn’t make her get another tattoo, but she was conflicted as what to do about her old one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vespers was heading out on a job with three of his men. Not having Maggie there to be lookout made him nervous. Her ears had been vital and without her tracking if the police were coming would be a lot harder. His easy days of having a window to get out of trouble were long gone and he didn’t like the change.

He stepped out the antique shop and headed towards the waiting car. Not noticing a little boy slip out the door behind him and go the opposite direction. All Vespers could think was how close this job was going to take him to the edge of D’Vitt territory. Coraline said she was planning to cash in his favor at a later time but the suspense of it still made him uneasy. The thought of possibly running into Stella D’Vitt did not put him at ease either.

Vespers slid into the car with a grumble, “I do not make eyes at him.”

One of the crew looked back at him from the front seat, “sorry boss what did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything, now turn around and drive.” Vespers snapped.

It was going to be a long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was early evening and a little boy with large glasses entered a tea shop. At one table by the window sat someone who had been expecting him.

“Hiya Atlas how have you been doing?” Maggie asked with a warm smile.

Atlas passed her the bag he had been carrying and climbed into the empty seat at the table. “I’m alright Miss Maggie. Aunt Magpie told me to tell you that there are two sets of clothes, your hair brush, and- and, I’m sorry I didn’t write it down.”

“Its alright bud. I mean I’ll know when I open it yes? How about I order you a sandwich ok?”

Atlas nodded, “do they have grilled cheese?”

Maggie smiled, “I’m sure they do. Now what book are you currently reading four-eyes?”

Atlas chuckled, “mom says you shouldn’t call me that. But I’m reading Sherlock Holmes! It's about this detective and his doctor friend and they solve all kinds of cool crimes and-”

Maggie smiled as she listened to Altas rattling on about his new book. He was so smart and didn’t deserve half the stuff he had to go through via his parents jobs. Vega and Joseph wanted him to go on to university, to get out. She didn’t blame them one bit.

“So can I ask a question?”

Maggie blinked, her thoughts pulled back into focus. “Yeah sure kid what's up?”

“Mom said you and your new boss argued lot whenever he visited. Why work for someone you don’t like? Don’t you like my family anymore?”

Maggie cringed a little, “it's not that Atlas I’m honest. I’m still friends with your parents and Vespers, I care a lot about your aunt. But I didn’t have a place anymore and my new boss is a jerk he really is, but it's good pay.”

“Why is he a jerk? Does he ki-”

“Not here, you know better,” Maggie insisted. “Now I need you to do me a really big favor and take this to your aunt.”

Maggie passed Atlas a small envelope, he could soft yet rectangular contents inside. He gave a firm nod, feeling a sense of pride knowing Maggie trusted him enough to be delivering money.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The job went well, they had a close call but the new lookout had proven himself.

Vespers sighed as he entered the manor that served as the family home. He had to shoot at close range and was saddened to see the blood and gore all over his suit.

Juno walked by and gave a smirk, “you look like hell. Hope your boyfriend didn’t catch you like that.”

Vespers grimaced, “I don’t know what your talking about.”

Juno laughed as she walked out the door. Where she was going Vespers had no idea and quite frankly he didn’t care. He went up to his quarters, getting cleaned up before going into the moth room.

It was a section of the sitting room of his area of the house. A tall glass enclosure filled with branches of mulberry leaves, lamps, and a dish of water. Dozens of moths flitted about while growing caterpillars munched away on the provided leaves. On the floor were several empty cocoons, Vespers collected these silken treasures and packed them away. He would send them to be made into silk thread he could then have made into whatever he wanted. He admired the lovely wings of her precious pets, their lives so short but their beauty something even the most stunning of ball gowns could not compare to in his opinion. He sneered, far better than sharks, or the smile of someone related to someone with pet sharks.

Vespers shook his head as if to chase away the thought, he really needed to get some sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maggie entered the cheap motel room she was currently renting. It was far from glamorous but it had a bed and a shower which was what she needed. Maggie was in fact aware of what was happening with Magpie, the plan now was to send as much of the money she earned that she could spare to Magpie who would then go to a realtor and buy a place as far out of the city as possible. Maggie had left her savings with the older woman and while Magpie very much did not like who Maggie now worked for she was not about to turn down an opportunity to get out once and for all. They had arranged things with Joseph and Vega to help with everything, even allowing Atlas to act as go between Maggie and Magpie.

In the bag Atlas had brought was indeed two new sets of clothes and a hair brush. Maggie also found a set of bobby pins, a few packets of tea and-

Maggie gave a small sob. At the bottom of the bag was a brand new boa.

It was beautiful with shiny black feathers that were so soft to the touch. Maggie cringed at the thought of Magpie going into either of their savings to get this for her, but the money could be replaced quickly thanks to her higher paycheck and the sight made her feel just a little more like her old self again.

#mafia au

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