🌟ok I've sent a lot today my bad I'm kinda just on a reread binge of your entire account.. BUT IN MY DEFENSE, ao3 has nothin I'm lookin for right now. Scrolled all the way to the bottom of your writing tag, and I've just been reading through. Seeing a single post about Stucky surprised me, though LOL.
Anyway, reading through drabbles got my mind on the stalked AU. Could we get a full drabble on when Frank found a note in his locker and had to fess up to Robby about George sometime?
I was originally going to be a multifandom Omegaverse account. Then, this fucking thing.
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Frank wasn't quite sure when the world tipped from grounded over to oceanic, but it probably happened somewhere between crouching down to open his locker and the moment he curled his fingers around the piece of paper on top of his backpack.
Green felt pen. Same scrawled writing, bleeding together at the edges. Like someone had hacked open a flower stem and jabbed it into a page.
Hey babydoll, you're always so sexy when working.
It was so innocuous. Off putting, but nothing graphic. That's not really how George worked.
Not at the start, at least.
George had been here. Been close, able to get into the locker room and put this in his locker. George knew which locker was his.
Violently, Frank wondered who treated him. If he had actually been treated, or if he'd somehow snuck in. If it was George at all, was there someone else? Did he somehow know someone at the hospital, or get a friend to? Did he still have any?
It's been years, years and years, and he still couldn't escape the very real memory of a hand around his neck. The squeeze against his jugular, and the way blood felt as it went cold.
"Langdon?"
Robby must've come in while he was trying not to drown himself, footfalls stopping far enough he couldn't grab him, but not so much he couldn't see what was being clutched in his hands.
Huh. He was almost shaking. That hadn't happened in a long time. Fear or anger, he wasn't quite sure. Maybe they were the same.
At the lack of response, the lack of looking up, Robby cleared his throat. "Langdon. What's that? Was it in your locker?"
It took him a moment to fish out his voice, water logged. "Yep."
It was probably the tone that set Robby off. Frank didn't need to look up to know what expression the man was wearing, likely glancing towards the doors before back down at him. "What is it?"
He looked for a way to put in into words. Maybe a way that didn't make this all seem like he was risking hell on the ED. Nothing really came to mind, so instead, he held the paper out to Robby.
A slip of paper, folded in the middle. As if someone would break in and read it.
Dutifully, Robby took the offering as he slipped on his glasses, scanning his eyes over it once, twice. Frank had his hands on his thighs, knees to the tile, looking up at his attending.
After what felt like too long, Robby held it up between thumb and forefinger. "Do you know who it's from?"
God, did he not want to answer that. "Yeah."
At Robby's purposefully raised eyebrows, Frank took a breath before holding out his hand and elaborating. "His name's George. He's um, an ex."
Simplified to the extreme, but honestly, he wasn't sure where else to go from there. Not without more questions.
Would it just be easier to tell Robby? Rip the Band-Aid off, as they say? Probably. Most likely, in fact but the idea of giving up that information willingly felt like handing over his ruptured appendix. Sure, it was killing him, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to miss it.
"And why is George leaving you a strange note in your locker?" Robby did pass it back, taking off his glasses pointedly. "How did he get back here?"
"No idea." Frank offered, then backtracked. "To the second one. I know the answer to the first."
Robby put his hands on his hips, annoyance making its appearance at last. "We don't have all day, Langdon."
Technically, they didn't. They had all night. But Frank wasn't going to point that out right now, instead focusing on finishing putting together his backpack. "He just got out of prison."
"Do you know what for?"
"Uh, stalking and attempted homicide, amongst other things."
Frank braced a hand on the locker door, using it and some careful placement to stand. It twinged, ever so lightly, at his back, but he had gotten by alright today. He'd take it.
What a trade off. Not going home in massive pain, and the man that tried to kill him showing up in his locker. Great.
Robby's surprise, maybe anger, was palpable, blinking repeatedly at the admission. It wasn't hard to put together those dots. "What?"
"Yeah, there was a whole court case about it. I didn't," Frank sighed, slinging his backpack on. "I didn't realize he was getting out from behind bars right now. Or that he'd follow across state lines."
"I'm sorry, what?" Robby held up his hands, brows pinched tight together. "A man you dated went to prison, and is in Pittsburgh? Were you-.."
There was a brief moment where Frank wondered if Robby was expecting him to deny it. By the look of righteous concern doused over him, Frank doubted it. "The guy he stalked and attempted to homicide?" It was his near death, he could joke a little, even if it hurt to breathe. "Yep."
He wasn't sure if the gravity hadn't sunk in yet, or if he was already starting to switch to survival mode, but Frank couldn't manage to muster up an emotion worth looking at right now.
There was a checklist already forming of what he'd need to check, old logs relighting. A path covered by leaves, brought into the sun once more to burn.
"Jesus, Langdon." Robby pressed a hand to his forehead, looking him over. "We need to tell admin."
"What? Why?"
"Cameras. There has to be one that saw him."
Oh. Right.
Frank felt himself feel a bit.. shocked at the offer of help. He hated that he did. "Okay."
Robby nodded, looking Frank over again. Frank was looking at Robby's expression, the melted anger mixing with a stream of an unbridled concern that Frank didn't even think the guy knew he was letting show. Surely this wasn't the first time staff had been stalked under him.
"I'll.. go ask Ahmad to walk you to your car."
He startled, almost jerking up. What if there was another note? "You don't have to-"
"Oh no, not taking chances." Robby shook his head, already turning to head out to grab security.
To get someone to protect Frank.
From George.
Because this was happening. Again. States away from where it went down in the first place.
Centuries-old vampire!Dennis, who can no longer remember his brothers' faces. Newborn vampire!Trinity, whom Dennis turned at the height of the Roaring 20's in NOLA.
Writing for me isn't quite the same for me as it used to. Not that this is a bad thing, but back in high school it was my way of dealing with typical high school stress and growing up. Now that I've mellowed out, writing doesn't come as quickly as it used to. Sometimes, I still get the ideas and will to write it down.
I've managed a nice little section for one of my stories. Anyone wanna play a game of guess that old fanfiction?
What the book had shown her… It was unbelievable! So many spells and rituals lost to time were confined in those pages. There were passages about the magical properties of certain species, how to change one’s physical appearance, and even spells on how to conjure monsters and familiars!
Why wasn’t this book better guarded? She wondered, as she turned another page. It would be way too easy to militarize this information. Most of these spells only needed one person with enough will power to use them. Imagine if a Cintal got a hold of this book! They could wreak so much havoc with a conjured monster! Anyone could have grabbed it. It was just lying there on the pedestal!
The question remained. Why did Dartz have it? He was a lover of knowledge! Not an actual practitioner of magic! Not like this. The spells all required bits of a soul, or a blood sacrifice. Spells and rituals to this extent were strictly forbidden. Dartz was even on the council when they passed the law! Why would this book even still exist?
