Summary: During a late night at the facility, one of the more... temperamental ghosts seems to want some attention. She's never tried to hurt Lars before, but does that mean he's safe paying her a visit alone, especially given her reputation?
Possessor!Ghost!OFC and Lars Pinfield slow-burn. OFC is in place of the possessor introduced in Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire. She lives in an enclosure in the facility where Lars works. So far she's been openly hostile to every worker who even comes near, but for some reason, Lars seems to be somewhat of an exception to that. Does that really mean that he's safe around her yet though? And what about when she starts reaching out to him?
Words: 2.2k
Warnings: None. Mild swearing.
My AO3
It's late evening in the lab. Everyone else has packed up and gone home, but Lars still sits at his desk. He likes to blame it on his paperwork just-so-happening to have built up, but truthfully? He lets it.
He prefers it this way. It's easier to focus without everyone bustling about in the open, shared spaces. Less to have to keep an eye on. Less variables at night.
The lights in the room are gentle, how he likes it, and it's easy to fall into a very productive rhythm. He's done quite well tonight, all told. Two reports finished already, and a data log well on its way to being processed. Worth the late night. He works through his notes meticulously, but at his own pace now, the pressure having eased.
Lars likes to think of himself as an alert, observant man- he's a respected scientist in his field, and he's got a bit of an eye for detail- but he’s oblivious to the eyes on him right now. Her eyes, as usual.
Eyes might be too strong of a word, actually. Either way, she's possessing the light fixture right now. The height gives her a better view out over the desks, especially when he's alone like this. No lab techs weaving in and out to obstruct her view. It's a better view than most of the other objects. Not much use trying to watch him work as a teaspoon; it's far too much effort, and she’s not ready to admit that she even *wants* to make an effort yet. No, she has learned her enclosure through and through, she knows exactly which objects are best for what. And right now she intends to keep an eye, if only for a while. Easy to justify to herself if she needs to, and easy to flit away and hide if anyone else should show up.
Lars knows she's there, of course, as she couldn't be anywhere else. On some level she knows she's not alone. She can't leave, a fact that sticks in his throat when he thinks about it too hard. But his mind isn't focused on her right now, he's too far deep in his work.
She decides she doesn't like that.
The light swings back and forth a few times, just enough so that he'll notice her, maybe pay her a little attention.
“I know you see me working.”
She zips across into the television set, whirring her way through the channels until she can find the right message to give him. She flicks back and forth, the brief seconds of visual spliced by static snow. He watches as she works away, knowing this part takes time. It's an old set from the 70s or something. Hardly conducive to sparkling conversation, but she still manages to make it work for her as best she can. Lars nearly had a heart attack the first time she managed to actually tell him something by sequencing together clips from three different programmes. It still makes him a little bit fizzy, seeing her in action.
Scientific curiosity, of course.
Mostly.
Despite the earlier protest, his work now sits forgotten in front of him.
She finds what she's after through the static, and the message crackles to life as she switches channels in quick succession to stitch it together.
[[…bored, I want-//come in, out the cold. /// it’ll-//be fun!]]
Lars shakes his head as he laughs softly. It took her years to choose to communicate with any of them in this form, and no matter how many times she uses the radio or the television set to weave together messages like that, he’ll never stop finding it interesting.
“You want some attention, do you?”
[[Oh, well, that’s not-//committing a crime?]]
Sometimes the clips stitch together better than others, but he could sense the sly tone in her meaning from a mile off. He sighs heavily whilst getting up, although it’s not remotely genuine.
“Haven’t asked enough of me today, then? I let you have the tennis ball before, even after you threw your silverware at-”
A short burst of static interrupts him. It’s hard not to imagine her hissing like a cat when she does that.
Lars walks over to the glass, looking into her enclosure. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone inside, but it would be the first time that he’d done so without a secondary support team on standby if anything did happen to go wrong.
A streak of red cuts through the air in between the TV set and the couch as she shifts into it. Lars watches with amusement as she appears to fluff up the cushions on the couch, moving from one to the next. Presumably making the place look more homely and enticing; he knows her better than to assume that it’s earnest. If she had a face, he’s certain that a shit-eating grin would be permanently affixed, at this point.
It does make him smile, though. Her more playful side is reserved for two things: Lars, and the ten seconds before she does something she shouldn’t. He’s not certain why she tolerates him where she doesn’t others, but he’ll take it happily if it means he can find out more about her and her nature. That has been what he’s told himself from the start.
She throws the couch cushion against the glass, aware that she’s lost his attention.
“Alright, alright, sorry. You know I’m not meant to though, yeah? It’s the middle of the night and all, I can’t be coming in to play now.”
The cushion sags in the middle, clearly disgruntled.
“Oh, what? You’re gonna pout?….” He really shouldn’t do this, it’s late, he’s got work to get to-
“Well we can’t have that, hm? Don’t want you wrecking the joint.”
…Shit. What is with his resolve today?
The cushion perks up immediately, no sign that a bad mood had ever crossed her. Menace.
Lars pushes himself up, pausing at the outer door to her enclosure.
Okay, this is a terrible idea, but surely he’s got to have some faith in his own abilities, right? He’s a respected parabiologist, for goodness sake, what’s the issue with one…
One Class Seven with an attitude problem and a history of tormenting the staff here. Sure, she’s been alright with Lars so far, but that doesn’t mean he’s the exception or anything. This could all still be a trick.
Heaven knows there have been dozens of lab techs enter her enclosure, all confident and self-assured professionals, only to come out moments later with bumps and bruises from where she’s possessed the nearest object and thrown it at their heads. One memorable time, she tied two particularly arrogant consultants together with the vacuum cord. It took half an hour to get them untied. She swung back and forth from the light as she watched.
She’s never gone for Lars like that before, but there’s a first time for everything. Should he really let himself get complacent? Especially with no one else around to spot him, or assist if things do go south.
Through the mesh in the thin window of her door, he sees the cushion flop onto its side in a gesture not unlike the tilting of a head.
*Why are you hesitating?* He reads in its not-quite-a-body language. *What’s this?*
…Maybe even a little bit of *Don’t you trust me?*
He can practically see the furrowing of her eyebrows as she waits for him in there. His fob is already in his hand, hovering over the security system. This could be an awful idea. Really, truly, dreadful.
Fuck it.
He goes in.
Lars is only two steps into the enclosure when he sees a flash of red. She zips over into a nearby scarf resting on the hatstand by the door.
Tentatively, the scarf lifts and drapes itself delicately over his shoulders, and his movements halt. He freezes, breath caught, as the scarf shifts slightly, settling across the back of his neck in a way that feels... purposeful.
Lars doesn’t speak at first, afraid any reaction might shatter the fragile trust in the air.
She’s never got so close to anyone before, except to lash out. He doesn’t really like them labeling it as ‘violence’, not when it’s always provoked, but even he can't deny her actions can be hostile. Leave her alone and she won’t hurt you, that’s the line. He’s not doing so great at that first part right now, but she seems to be comfortable. He knows not to press his luck, but when the ends of the scarf wrap gently around his neck, he still doesn’t feel in danger. Here she is, half wrapped around his throat, and he’s calm as anything. More surprisingly, so is she.
She moves slowly, like *she’s* trying not to scare *him* off, the irony of which is not lost on him. He can’t help but smile. He brings his pinky finger up and grazes it softly against one of the tassels.
“Wanted some company, did you?”
He keeps his voice soft, low. As if he’s talking to a frightened animal. The scarf tightens ever so slightly in response, a careful squeeze, as though she’s saying *yes.* He chuckles softly, once, letting the moment stretch on.
“That’s okay…”
He knows he’ll be reprimanded for this if his bosses find out. walking into an enclosure isn’t something to be taken lightly at all, but hers? Everyone in the facility knows she’s volatile, actively hostile. This could have been catastrophic, really; far too many variables, far too many things that could have gone wrong.
The scarf shifts again, wrapping around him just a bit more snugly and effectively snapping him out of his thoughts. This time he really can feel her watching him, studying every micro-expression. There’s no anger, none of her usual hostility, just curiosity and maybe even a cautious kind of enjoyment.
For the first time in years she feels seen in a way that isn’t clinical or cruel. Like he still sees the *person* inside the objects she possesses. The scarf loosens slightly, its movement light and playful now, as if gently testing the waters of this new dynamic. Seeing if he’ll stay if he sees a little more of who she really might still be on the inside.
She wants to believe that Lars is different, that he’s not like the others who have only treated her as a subject. But there’s still a voice in the back of her mind warning her that this could backfire. She can’t ignore that instinct, not after everything she’s been through. And yet, she can’t deny the tiny part of her screaming to let him be kind to her. This whole thing is a rare glimpse of her vulnerability, of her choice to reach out when she didn’t have to. Her thoughts sour slightly as she considers the implications of letting him in like this.
Lars places a hand over the end of the scarf, recognising the classic signs of overthinking that he loves to ignore in himself. He wants to ease the tension that this vulnerability is clearly bringing out for her.
“Hey. I won’t betray this,” he promises quietly. “I won’t betray this.. trust. Okay?”
The scarf droops gently against his shoulder in a motion he wants to believe is relief.
“Even if you are a total pain in the arse sometimes.”
The other end of the scarf, the one not resting softly against his shoulder, reaches up quickly and flops over the top of his head, covering his face. A playful gesture, almost certainly telling him to shut up. He can’t help but chuckle softly at the shared moment. He thinks that maybe the scarf wobbles slightly as he laughs, mirroring the motion, but maybe he imagines that.
They stay like that for a few more minutes, comfortable silence in the air. Until Lars notices the time on his watch.
Nearly midnight. Shit.
“Alright, Trouble,” he begins “I do need to get home at some point tonight. You gonna let me go?”
The scarf tightens against him, a clear ‘no’.
“Hey… Don’t make me reorder your magazines.” and then, more softly “I'll be back first thing tomorrow.”
She squeezes once more, before she lets herself fall from his shoulders and flops down onto the edge of the couch, crossing the ends of the scarf huffily. He crouches down to speak on her level.
“Okay, grump. I’ll be back in the morning. Think you can stay out of trouble ‘til then?”
She extends backwards over the edge of the couch, draping herself out dramatically.
“Yeah, okay. You’ll be just fine…”
She watches him go and start finishing up, straightening out and resting the scarf back where it belongs on the hat-stand. Everything has its place, with her. Lars wonders what his own might be.
Lars looks back as he goes to push open the double doors and sees the end of the scarf bobbing back and forth in a makeshift wave. He smiles and waves back to her before heading to his car.
some no pressure tags: @slothspaghettiwrites @angrythingstarlight @littlelioncub43 @nsfwsebbie @5ummit @sweeterthanthis @giorno-plays-piano
name: Alice
nickname: Liss
height: 5'10(ish?)
languages: english, BSL
nationality: british
favourite season: maybe spring? I don't like being too hot or too cold
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favourite fictional character: tricky one 😳 top three gotta be Bucky Barnes, Edith Cushing and Yelena Belova rn
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average hours of sleep: like 6?
cats or dogs: dogs
blankets I sleep with: just one
place of origin: england
dream trip: I went to centerparcs with my family once and loved it, I'd like to do that again- or disney in florida bc it looks fun!
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random fact: I used to keep rescue chickens when I was younger, and I'd love to do it again! they've got their own little personalities, and seeing them come out of their shell (no pun intended) is wonderful
I used to be at @fxcs, but that was a sideblog so I've moved over here to be able to interact more!
Imma keep the other one up for a while to move all my favourite fics over here, hopefully without spamming the authors too much 😅 but the plan is just to move here, and hopefully start posting my own stuff here too 💕
