#not remotely surprising but. good to keep a mental file of these things.

[aeide-thea]

The Republican State Leadership Committee (RSLC) received donations of tens of thousands of dollars each from corporations including Comcast, Intuit, Wells Fargo, Amazon, Bank of America and Google last year. . . in the months after Politico published a leaked supreme court decision indicating that the court would end the right to nationwide abortion access. . . . [Most of the companies] did not respond to requests for comment. An Intuit spokesperson pointed out that the company also donates to Democratic political organizations, and that “our financial support does not indicate a full endorsement of every position taken by an individual policymaker or organization. “Intuit is non-partisan and works with policymakers and leaders from both sides of the aisle to advocate for our customers,” an Intuit spokesperson said in a statement.

so… they effectively cancel out their own donations???? don't get me wrong, i guess i prefer that to a scenario in which they're just helping out republicans, but. at that point are you not just burning money?? baffling to me.

A Bank of America spokesperson pointed to the company’s policy that donations to so-called 527 organizations such as the RSLC come with the caveat that they only be used for operational and administrative purposes, not to support any candidates or ballot initiatives. The CPA, meanwhile, argues that since the RSLC’s operations are explicitly designed to support candidates and ballot initiatives, such a policy is a distinction without a difference. Although these companies did not directly give these vast sums to North Carolina’s anti-abortion lawmakers, the CPA’s analysis is a case study in how corporate contributions to organizations such as the RSLC can end up being funneled into anti-abortion causes. When Republican state legislators successfully overturned a veto from the Democratic governor last month to pass the upcoming abortion ban, nine of [the] lawmakers voting to overturn the veto had received campaign contributions from a group with links to the RSLC. . . . These donations are evidence that corporations are proving to be complicit in the broader movement to limit abortion rights, the CPA non-profit argues, even as many of these companies publicly tout women’s empowerment and employee access to healthcare. . . . Several of the[m]. . . made statements last year offering to cover healthcare costs for employees who needed to travel out of state for medical procedures, in some cases explicitly mentioning abortion as an example. Google sent an email to employees acknowledging that Roe v Wade had been overturned and informed them about options for relocating to Google offices in different states. “Equity* is extraordinarily important to us as a company, and we share concerns about the impact this ruling will have on people’s health, lives and careers,” the email stated.

⸻ * i know what they meant, but—i am cackling.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Mother doesn’t know best (one-shot)

Regulus Black AU 

Summary:  Walburga upsets Regulus. You will always be there to pick up the pieces.

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M- smut

______

You could tell from the moment that Regulus walked through the door that he was in a hell of a mood. It didn’t take the two of you to be together for so long to know when he was in a horrible mood. You couldn’t help but be curious about exactly what Walburga did to piss your lover off so badly.

Regulus took his coat off and let it drop to the floor. Normally he would have neatly put the garment back in the closet. Regulus hated wrinkles and would have a fit if his coat had the slightest wrinkle on it. You would spend hours listening to him bitch about how annoying and sloppy wrinkles were.

You didn’t say anything as he sat down on the sofa and stared at the TV with a glare on his face. That look...you knew that look very well. Any time that Regulus was the least bit displeased THAT was the look that you saw on him.

Giving Regulus a few moments to cool off, you hung up his coat before turning around. Regulus’ grey eyes were still locked on the television. You crawled behind Regulus and wrapped your arms around him from behind. Normally you cuddling Regulus was enough to calm him down from whatever stupidity that his parents had caused.

Touching was your method of providing him comfort. It had been from the moment that the two of you had become a couple. While you came from a family that wasn’t the least bit hesitant to show each other love and affection, Regulus didn’t. The poor boy was touch starved from the moment that he was born. At first, Regulus was hesitant about returning a hug or letting you snuggle him. It only took a month for Regulus to enjoy the cuddles enough to be wrapping himself around you at any spare moment.

You snuggled your face against Regulus’ shoulder. He didn’t say a word as you proceeded to pepper his neck with kisses.

“Want to tell me what’s eating you?”

Regulus groaned but didn’t say anything. Mentally shrugging, you continued to kiss the same path over and over before getting brave and biting down on his earlobe. Regulus wiggled himself loose and rolled his eyes.

“Just stop, would you?”

Had he not been in the mood from hell, Regulus would have seen how stunned and baffled that you looked. You looked as if you had been knocked off of your imaginary unicorn. Regulus turned and walked out the door to the back garden leaving you blinking after him.

This had been the first time that Regulus remotely took his frustrations out on you. Normally that was never an option. It wasn’t your place to take the blame for his issues “whatever they were.”

You didn’t move to go after Regulus. When he was ready to talk about whatever it was that he was going through...he would come to you.

An hour later, you sat on the couch reading a book that you had borrowed from Remus. You were so lost in the story that you hadn’t noticed that Regulus walked back in. You also didn’t notice the embarrassed expression on his face. Truth was, Regulus felt awful. You didn’t deserve him taking his frustrations out on you. It wasn’t your problem that his mother knew how to suck the life out of anyone within five minutes.

Regulus wasn’t about to tell you that the reason that he was so pissy was because of his mother’s insistence that the two of you produce an heir. You didn’t need to spend the evening and the next few days wondering if you were “good enough” to be his wife. Regulus would stop that from happening at all costs.

As Far as Walburga was concerned, it didn’t matter that Regulus told her that you weren’t physically able to do that. Walburga didn’t seem to understand the words “it will not be happening.” Regulus accepted it and it was time that Walburga did too. If she was so desperate for an heir then she needed to go talk to her eldest son. Regulus assumed that Sirius probably had a few kids running around out there. The way that Sirius “got around” it wouldn’t be surprising if the Black family had multiple new family members that no one knew about.

Regulus waited a few moments for you to say something to him but you didn’t. He smirked when he realized that you didn’t know that he was in the room. Shaking his head, Regulus gently snatched the book away.

“Hey!”

You whined. Regulus gave you a smile before kneeling down in front of you.

“Hi.”

You reached out to stroke your fingers through his hair.

“Hi... I suppose that you are having a bad day?”

You said softly. Regulus nodded, taking his hand in your and kissing each fingertip.

“Something like that. Mum knows how to suck the life force right out of you. It's no wonder my father is nothing but a glorified statue.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Regulus shook his head. You didn’t expect him to be wanting to talk about whatever it was that Walburga had done. Regulus was never much of a talker when it came to his family. He would put the issue away in an expertly secretive little file in his mind only for it to never be seen or heard about again.

“Would you rather me take your pants off?”

Regulus’ grey eyes rolled up at the prospect of sex. This didn’t surprise you. As much as you wanted to make a comment about Regulus not being so different from Sirius; you decided not to. If you wanted to make your lover feel better comparing Regulus to his brother was not a good idea.

“That sounds nice.”

Regulus replied. He stood up and offered his hand to pull you up from the sofa.

“Bed or here?”

You asked. It didn’t matter to you where the sex would take place. The two of you seemed to have sex wherever the mood would hit.

“Bed.”

Regulus commented before picking you up and carrying you into the next room. He closed the door with his foot before gently sitting you down. You stayed in the same place as Regulus began unzipping your dress. His fingers expertly tugged the zipper down toward your bottom. Regulus wanted nothing more than to tug the fabric off of you but he knew that would get him nowhere except a shopping trip to buy a new dress. The last thing that he wanted was to spend the evening stuck in a dress shop with other husbands who were bored out of their minds. Regulus would rather be feeding you his cock instead.

The moment your dress hit the floor, you turned in Regulus’ arms and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was the same as always...sweet and timid at first before moving to fiery and possessive. You internally smiled at the memory of the first kiss that Regulus had given you. He had been so timid and embarrassed at first. Now he didn’t care where the hell that the two of you were. When he wanted a kiss your lips were his for the taking.

“What?”

Regulus questioned as you started unbuttoning his shirt and tugging the garment out of his slacks. You shook your head with an innocent smile and kissed his chin once more.

“Nothing. Can’t I smile when I kiss you?”

Regulus rolled his eyes.

“There is no such thing as nothing with you. Good try though, sugar. Now, what do you want me to do to you?”

You sat down on the bed before reaching out to unbuckle Regulus’ belt. That was a silly question for him to ask. Regulus was always the more dominant in the bedroom. You assumed this question was always to see how interested you were in what he had to offer.

“Such a silly question, love. I know what you want.”

You replied, running a hand up Regulus’ now obvious erection. He bit his lip as you finally wrapped your mouth around his length.

“I suppose you do know.”

Regulus commented as his eyes fluttered closed. You opened your eyes for a brief moment to see the ecstasy on your lover’s face. Again, you internally smiled at the memory of the first blow job that you had given Regulus. How he lasted a whole five minutes was still amusing to you. The poor love was so embarrassed at the coming so quickly and kept offering promises that once he was inside of you he could definitely last longer.

As the years progressed, Regulus gained an iron grasp on his orgasm. You often found yourself begging him to come already because your jaws or your pussy was so sore from “activities” that you needed a break. There were only a few ways to make him come super quick and he refused to talk about them. Your personal favorite was giving him an inconspicuous handjob at bad times. The most memorable was a few weeks ago at dinner with Walburga, Orion, and a few of the other Black family members. You smiled at the memory…

It was another boring dinner or listening to Walburga and Orion talk about how wonderful their family was. You sat beside Regulus as the dutiful sweet little wife that he adored so much. The less that you caught Walburga’s attention the better. Regulus hadn’t said much that evening. Granted, he normally didn’t say much around his parents. He had learned years ago to keep his trap shut.

As Walburga started talking about Christmas plans, you let your eyes fall to Regulus’ lap. Now would be the perfect time for a handjob. You knew Regulus probably wouldn’t think so. Your prim and proper lover still didn’t exactly love the idea of public displays of affection. A handjob and him coming in front of his family would be a huge “hell no.”

You let your eyes flutter to Regulus’ face. He sat watching his mother with a bored expression on his handsome face. Regulus clearly had not picked up on your playful smile and for this you were thrilled. As carefully as possible, you scooted your chair closer to Regulus.

The moment your fingers stroked over his cock, Regulus’ eyes turned to you. He gave you a warning expression that said “not now” but you weren’t going to listen. So what if he spanked you later? You would have some fun at the time being. You only blinked at Regulus before continuing to lightly stroke your fingertips over his hardening cock. Regulus reached down and wrapped his hand around yours. You assumed that he was going to shove you away but he didn’t. Instead, he forced your hand open to palm him under the table cloth.

Regulus pressed his lips together as you got braver and began unbuttoning his dress pants.

“Y/n, no...please.”

Regulus whispered in your direction. You gave him a playful smirk before wrapping your hand around his length. Regulus discreetly put his hand over his mouth obviously hoping that his parents would assume that he was carefully considering their words. Little did they know what you were actually doing to their youngest son.”

Regulus rocking his hips pulled you from the memory. He whined when you let his cock drop from your mouth. Sitting up a bit straighter, you placed a kiss to his hip bone.

“Want to take me?”

“That’s a dumb question.”

Regulus said as he gently pushed you back on the bed. You knew that he wasn’t going to just shove in. That was for inexperienced kids. He always left you needy and soaking the sheets before ever considering pushing inside of you.

He gently stroked his left hand between your bodies to stroke your pussy. Regulus groaned feeling how wet you were. He knew to expect it but it was always such a pleasant surprise. His middle finger effortlessly slipped inside your opening leaving you gasping his name. Regulus continued to tease you for a few moments. One finger became two. Two fingers were pushing in as deep as possible. He scissored and pumped you to orgasm twice. Each time, as your orgasm approached, Regulus stopped moving. His grey eyes were locked on your face and a small smirk played at his lips. Regulus knew how to drive you wild just as you knew how to push him over the edge.

“Need you now.”

You whimpered as Regulus curled his fingers. If Regulus continued to tease you like this there was no way that you would last long. To your relief, he seemed to want sex as badly as you did. Both of you sighed the moment that he pushed inside of you.

“Take it all, sugar.”

Regulus ordered, trying his hardest to resist the urge to start fucking you as if he was a careless teenager. He stopped himself each time. You didn’t deserve just to have a sloppy mess made out of your pussy. Despite this being about him, Regulus would make sure that you were taken care of. The words “happy wife, happy life” could have never been more accurate.

The soft gentle lovemaking turned hungry and desperate within seconds. You reached up to wrap your arms around Regulus’ shoulders as his skin slapped against yours. The feeling of Regulus’ cock sliding in and out of you before filling you to the hilt was enough to make you want to come alone. Your body twitched involuntarily as the arousal became more intense. Suddenly you felt your body lingering on the edge of orgasm.

“Please don't stop. Please don’t stop.”

You chanted over and over. You were trembling all over as the pleasure exploded. Regulus moaned loudly. The feeling of your body strangling his cock was enough to bring him over the edge. He knew that this wasn’t going to last long from the get-go. Regulus stopped thrusting almost instantly. You could feel his cock throbbing inside of you for a few moments before filling you.

Regulus was the first to break away. He stroked his finger over your nose before lying down beside you. You didn’t fight as he pulled you into his arms.

“Do you feel better?”

You asked, yawning. Regulus nodded and kissed your head.

“You always make me feel better. Maybe a small nap is in order?”

You didn’t argue as you wrapped your arm around Regulus’ body a bit more tightly and prepared for a nap (and round two). Before falling asleep you made a mental note to thank Walburga for whatever it was that she did to him. You would assure her that you were there to calm her baby boy down...just as you always would be.

_______

@amelie-black​ @regulusslut​ @mellifluous-cosmos​ @fandomsxxregulus​ @realgaytrash​ @acciosiriusblack​ @fific7​ @quuenofblacks​ @siriuslyceleste​ @whymyparentscheckmyphone​ @criminalyetminimal​ @hazel-eyes5​ @lucasfilms77​ @exhsle​ @spiderxalmighty​ @rubyroscoe1​ @bennyberry​ @harold-pothead​ @mimisparkle12​ @teletubiswszpilkach​ @zievyimas​ @jessyballet @knreidy1 @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @moldy-old-boot @hankypranky @summer-novak @shaylybaby2032 @emiwrites3reads @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @stuckinsaudi1 @marichromatic @untoldshortsofthefandoms @deanwherescas @sprnaturallover @shitfaceddaniel @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

[jiminisnotavirgin]

A+

Pairing: professor!taehyung | collegestudent!reader

Genre: smut

Description: A one-on-one video call with your hot, college professor takes a surprising turn.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: inappropriate student/teacher relations, mutual masturbation, fingering, clit-stimulation, and innapropriate language.

Note: After much anticipation, I hope this is my return to the writing part of the lovely fanfic world. Here’s a little something mischievous and self-indulgent (clearly!). I started writing this when quarantine and remote-learning first began last year and I returned to it earlier this week. Let me know what you think :) I hope you enjoy A+. Love, Phoenix.

Email after email, document after document, the light from Taehyung’s laptop shines bright blue across his features. The hours go by and the sky grows darker but he remains at his desk, only taking small breaks to lighten the strain on his eyes. His chair creaks as he leans back and glances outside the window. Like most nights lately, only the stars keep him company tonight.

His courses shifted to an online-only remote format due to the need for social distancing. Despite the initial confidence he displayed to his boss and colleagues over the change, Taehyung is more unsure than ever. Frustration sneaks its way into his mind like a viper wrapped around its squirming prey. His life has turned into a turbulent sea of e-mails and complaints from upset students. What’s the best way for him to support his students? How can he assure them that their mental health is more important than any essay or assignment they’ll ever complete?

A sudden knock at the door steals his attention. Jungkook, his roommate and best friend, leans against the doorway with crossed arms. “Professor Kim,” he begins with a smirk. “Do you have a minute to speak?”

“What’s up?” asks Taehyung, ignoring his friend’s use of the name his students address him with.

“Did you see Jimin’s text? He invited us over for drinks at his apartment. Are you coming?”

“Can’t,” answers Taehyung. His computer glows in his peripheral vision. “I have—“

“Emails to write, work to do. I get it, you’re a busy man.” Jungkook shrugs. “I thought I’d ask anyway since it’s Saturday night.”

“Maybe next time.” Guilt floods Taehyung’s chest and makes it difficult to look Jungkook directly in the eye. Not only is he a shitty professor but he’s a shitty friend, too.

Jungkook finally steps inside the room, occasionally tinkering with Taehyung’s things until he reaches his desk. “Whatever. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Jungkook’s already-large doe eyes go wider. “Because all you do is sit at that damn computer all day!”

“I have to teach classes online, what do you expect?”

“It’s not healthy. You barely even leave your room to eat.”

“Who are you, the food police?”

“No, I’m your best friend,” Jungkook answers. “When was the last time you did anything fun? Or normal? You’re twenty-six, Tae, not a hundred and six.”

Taehyung sighs. “I can’t think about any of that right now. Actually, I should get back to my work...”

Jungkook takes the hint and leaves, but not without shooting a glare that makes Taehyung regret his choice of words. He can’t worry about it right now though—not when he has a call planned with you in about two minutes.

He was surprised to see an email from you in his inbox yesterday. You’re one of the students that hasn’t reached out all semester unlike most of the others in his courses. He knows just what kind of student you are: the type who floats through classes quietly but still gets high marks. You’re an older student. You fade into the background by avoiding the attention of your peers but your work stands out, therefore, you do too. He recognizes it because he was that student, too.

Taehyung opens the app for the call, expecting you to pick up after a minute or two but you answer within seconds. “Hello,” he greets you.

You tuck a stand of hair behind your ear and speak but no sound follows the movement of your mouth. He waits but nothing changes.

Taehyung clears his throat. “I think your microphone is off,” he says and types the same words into the chat box at the bottom of his screen.

You squint as you bring your face closer to the monitor. “Can you hear me now?”

He smiles. “Perfect. So, how are you doing? How’s the semester been so far?”

You shrug. “It’s been okay. I’m just trying my best, you know? What about you?”

“Pretty much the same. There’s nothing to do besides read and grade assignments.”

“I wanted to talk to you about the midterm, actually...” your voice fades out and your eyes drift away from the camera. He digs through his memory for what you wrote but his mind comes out empty-handed.

“Let me pull it up on my computer.” He searches through his saved files and documents.

“Oh, you don’t have to do all of that.” You pause for a few seconds. “It’s about my grade.”

“Let’s see... B-plus. Nice work.” When he looks away from your paper, he catches you frowning.

“Could you give me some feedback on it?” you ask.

“I left a few comments on the side,” he answers, eyes still glued to the document. He exits the window and focuses on your face once again. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. You’re a lovely writer.”

“Not good enough if I can only get B-pluses,” you answer with a sigh. Taehyung sits up in his chair, surprised by your shift in tone.

Are you looking for an explanation? A justification for the grades he’s given you? “Most students would be satisfied with a B-plus in an almost graduate level course.”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m not your other students.”

His brows twitches. “Oh?”

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an arrogant jerk but I’m not used to getting anything lower than an A on my papers. The fact that I’m about to graduate and can’t hack yours is pretty... frustrating.”

He presses his lips together. “I don’t know what to tell you.” What do you want to hear? Can anything he’ll say wipe that glare off your face? It’s interesting to see you lose your cool after all this time.

You refuse to back down from the challenge. In this impromptu staring contest, your brown eyes penetrate his through the computer screen.

Taehyung decides to give in. Slightly. “One thing I will say,” he continues, “is that I’m particularly tough on my best students. If I gave you an A-plus on every essay you handed in, what would you work up to? There’s no doubt about the strength of your writing.”

Your expression changes immediately. “Oh,” is the only word that leaves your lips. The lines of anger decorating your forehead smooth out as your mouth eases into a relieved smile.

It’s in this moment that Taehyung finds himself looking at you. Truly looking at you.

There’s something about the determination in your face as you plead your case, as though nothing else in the world matters more. Your glossy, heart-shaped lips possess a reddish tint that reminds him of cherries, or rubies. Even through the pixels on the computer screen, you retain the same freshness he remembers from a few months ago, if not more now.

All this time on the computer has gone to your head, he thinks to himself. Perhaps there’s still a chance for him to catch up to Jungkook and the others.

A giggle erupts from your side of the call. “So my papers are good? And here I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“I didn’t mean to make you suffer,” he murmurs and runs a hand through the waves in his raven hair. His eyelids flutter closed as he sinks into his chair and stretches his arms. Finally, a meeting he can consider a success; a meeting where the student leaves the call less frustrated than when it began. He prepares to end the call and log off for the night.

Then he hears it.

It’s faint and quiet and quick but he hears it, as if all sounds in the world were turned off and yours was amplified. The sound echoes in his mind as though you were right there beside him: “If only you knew how you make me suffer.”

This progression of thoughts occurs in a matter of seconds. By the time he’s processed your statement, his eyes have been forced open and any chance of relaxation for the rest of the night disappears into thin air.

“What?” he asks, voice betraying the casualness he wishes to exude.

“Oh, nothing.” You blink innocently, long lashes fluttering like a pair of butterfly wings. “I just care about your opinion, Professor Kim, if you can’t tell.”

“Right...” His eyes trail to the messy display of pens and papers spread out across his desk—anything to avoid your gaze. Its intensity has multiplied a thousandfold and threatens to melt him like a popsicle in the sun. He ignores the surge of anxious heat flowing through his veins.

“I mean,” you continue, lips pursed. “Who doesn’t love hearing a little bit of praise every once in a while, right?”

Your statement hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity. His shirt suddenly squeezes his torso. His pants suffocate his thighs. The room feels like a furnace and dizzying all at once, but the tension in the air keeps him in the moment.

“What are you doing?” he finally asks.

All the blood drains from your face and your limbs freeze. You hold your hands up in the air. “I’m sorry, professor. I didn’t mean to—“

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” warns Taehyung. A new fire fuels his gaze. With his thick brows, chiseled face, and beautiful black hair to match, your professor is a flame and you’ve been dying to get burned since you first laid eyes on him.

You pull off your hoodie and toss it onto the ground behind you. With a small tug of your index finger, you adjust the spaghetti straps of your pink tank top, underneath which you wear no bra. Your nipples prick at the thin fabric that stretches with each of your breaths.

“You deserve so much more than a little bit of praise,” he murmurs, erasing any doubts over your advances towards him.

“I do?”

“Mmhmm. Especially since you’ve been such a good girl.”

This man couldn’t possibly be the same one that lectured your class all semester. Something sinful replaces the innocent, awkward mannerisms you’ve grown to know over time. No more does he hesitate with his words or actions. Instead, he leans towards the camera with his shoulders pushed back. You’re greeted by his neck and the tan slope of his chest that hides beneath the loose collar of his button-down. You want nothing more than to rip off his shirt with your bare hands. For now, you can only imagine what lies beneath.

“Good girls deserve rewards,” he says with a swipe of his tongue across his plump bottom lip, snapping you out of your daze.

“What should I do?” you ask and glance at your closed bedroom door. Fortunately, you locked it before the call started. You don’t want any intrusions from your roommate.

“You should wind down and take care of yourself. You’ve been working so hard.” His eyes dart down to your tank top. “Close your eyes and imagine it’s me worshipping your chest.”

Your eyes fall closed as your hands drift to the hem of your top. Your fingertips graze your stomach and stop when your skin begins to slope up into the mounds of your breasts. “What would you do if you were here with me right now?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d make it my mission to kiss every part of you but first, I’d focus on those beautiful breasts of yours. They’d fit in my hands perfectly.”

With your left hand, you grasp one breast and tighten your grip just the slightest bit. The squeeze forces a sigh from your lips and although your eyes are closed, Taehyung struggles to control his own breathing as he watches you begin to unfold. With the other hand, you bring two fingers to your mouth and coat them in saliva only to bring them down to your nipples which harden with each squeeze and stroke.

Taehyung swallows in anticipation. “Just like that. Keep going.”

“Wait, what about you?” you ask, voice raspy and slightly out of breath.

“What about me?”

“I’m not the only one who deserves a reward.”

“Watching you wriggle and writhe in desire is enough for me.”

You cross your arms. “Nope.”

He chuckles. “What do you suggest I do, then?”

“I want you to fuck yourself with your hand and imagine it’s my pussy squeezing the life out of you.”

Your words knock the air out of Taehyung’s lungs but he manages to recover quickly. “You may be a good girl but you’ve got a dirty mouth.”

You smirk. “What are you going to do about it?”

The sound of his metal belt buckle clinks from his end. “Touch yourself right now. Play with your clit and we’ll see if you’ve still got that nasty mouth of yours when you’re begging me to cum.”

You raise your brows. “I fully intend on cumming at least once in your presence tonight, professor, whether I have your permission or not.”

“Call me Taehyung.” He takes a moment to reflect on the current situation versus the dynamic you had only minutes ago. “Why now? Why did you initiate—”

“My grades go above all else. I didn’t want to jeopardize any of that,” you answer. “And I also waited for your sake.”

“My sake? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were doing this to secure your grades,” he muses.

“Nothing boosts my ego like getting an A-plus based solely off my hard work,” you answer. “Fucking my hot professor is for my own personal pleasure.”

You description makes it sound so typical, just another everyday thing like washing the dishes. Are you using him? Deep inside, the thought of you using him arouses him. He wants to be used by you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, suddenly absorbed by you and the way you carefully orchestrated this interaction. How long did you think about this moment? Were you afraid of rejection?

“I know. Everyone likes me but I always want what I can’t have.” You wink. “Life’s more fun that way.”

Fun. “Enough talk. Let me see.”

“Yes, of course,” you stutter, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. You don’t mind his demands or commanding tone. In fact, you invite them.

“Slide back,” he instructs you. “I want to see everything.”

You swallow and obey immediately, rising to pull your chair further away from the camera. You take the chance to slip off your sweatpants which leaves you in nothing but your underwear and tank top. Your underwear isn’t fancy but it’s what’s below that he’s interested in.

You lower yourself onto the seat, not bothering to keep your legs pressed together. You spread your knees slowly, as if your legs were a book with pages waiting to be read.

“Good. Open up more and show me how bad you want it,” he says. The smile in his voice urges you on.

Your hand creeps along the stretchy waistband of your underwear. The material works against you, forcing your wrist against your pelvis and the area you so desperately wish to touch. You have to be patient since you seek to milk this moment for as long as possible.

Your middle finger searches for any sign of dampness and you gasp when you find a small pool already built up at your core. When you look back at the monitor to see what he’d like you to do next, you watch as he adjusts himself into a similar position to yours.

“Your turn. Take off your shirt,” you instruct.

He raises his eyebrows. A mischievous smile dawns on his face. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“So demanding. That’s what got us here in the first place,” he remarks but proceeds to unbutton his shirt.

“I’m not afraid to go out and get what I want.”

“I know, and I admire you for it,” he says. His shirt begins to crinkle as he unbuttons lower and lower until eventually, the front parts to reveal his chest. His abs are soft and his warm honey skin looks smooth. You wonder what it would it taste like.

As he rolls up his sleeves, you observe every movement of his hands. They’re large. One of the first things you noticed about him when he spoke in class and lead discussions. You always wondered what his hands would look like if they were doing something else entirely... Now, your fantasies have come to life.

You force your jaw closed but he’s already caught you staring. “Like what you see?” he asks through his low lids.

“Oh, please. As if you don’t know you’re attractive as hell.”

A low laugh emerges from the man and you smile. If only you could bottle it up and keep it. When he reaches into his pants, you follow along, taking the slick from your finger up to your clit in one smooth stroke. You hum and bite at your lips to contain your reaction.

He shakes his head. “Don’t hide it. You sound beautiful.”

Your other hand starts to wander as you go to work on your clit. From your head to your chest, you seek something to ground you as your soft bud puffs with pleasure. No longer does it hide, tucked away beneath the crevices of your lips. You grind against it using your hand and a slow swivel of your hips from left to right.

“You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you,” coos Taehyung. “Your body was made for this. For pleasure.”

The sight of him gripping the base of his cock is almost enough to send you over. A light glaze of sweat builds on your forehead but you make no effort to wipe it. Taehyung wishes to feel the heat of your body on his. It’s probably better than anything he could ever imagine.

Perhaps now more than ever, he longs for the days before the virus took over and broke everyone apart. He misses those times so much he could cry, especially since he took them for granted. At the same time though, he thinks about the effort those close to him have made to keep in contact. Even old friends he hadn’t spoken to in years called to catch up with him. His students have stuck out the most out of anyone. One or two of them don’t even own laptops but they show up to class on time and bring their A-game. He believes he should take a note or two from them.

As he studies you, the way you squirm in delight, and the way your body responds to the ministrations of your hand, a wave of relief washes over him. If it weren’t for these circumstances, he wouldn’t have had this moment with you.

“Taehyung,” you moan, bringing him back.

The sound of you calling his name shoots heat straight to his cock. With the precum glistening at the top, he grabs his cock and works the tip using his thumb. “Fuck. Look at what you do to me,” he groans at the sensitivity.

“Please,” you take in a breath and continue, “t-tell me more.”

If praise is what you want, praise is what you’ll get. “You’re so hardworking in everything that you do. Look at you now. Touching yourself just for me.”

“Yes, yes.” You moan as your fingers settle into the one position that feels like you’ve struck gold.

“How far inside can those fingers go? I bet you can put them in real deep.”

It’s as though your hands were waiting for his approval. You slip inside your clenching, gaping hole using two fingers. They slide in easily but the initial stretch is foreign since it’s been so long.

Taehyung groans and for the first time tonight, you begin to see him lose control. His cool exterior sinks into the pleasure of his hand—and of you—leaving him a sweaty, desirable mess. His hair sticks to his forehead and his stomach clenches with each stroke of his hand. He moves slowly, trying to match the pace of your hand. You pick up speed and allow your body to move against the rhythm of your hand. Your insides feel warm and soft and slippery. You close your eyes and imagine he’s the one fingering you with those gorgeous hands of his.

The rubber band of pleasure in your stomach begins to stretch. The squelch of your pussy grows louder with each passing second.

Taehyung is well-endowed but never did you imagine his dick would expand so much in length and girth. He could spear your pussy in one fell swoop, destroying your insides and anything else that gets in his way.

“Taehyung, I’m close,” you say with a sigh. You barely have the energy to speak.

“Fuck, me too,” he adds. “I’m almost there. Cum with me.”

His hand travels from base to tip and each part of the journey is smoother than the last. He massages each vein and ripple and moves even faster when he catches a glimpse of the uneven quiver of your thighs. Heat churns in his stomach and all he can do is chase it desperately. He needs it like oxygen, to breathe in the sight of you along with the pleasure of his nether regions.

The rubber band snaps. It strikes you in waves, each crash stronger the last. You let the waves overtake you and succumb to the burst of pleasure spreading through your limbs. You pull out your hand and clench around nothing as the sensitivity forces your legs closed.

Just when you thought things were over, Taehyung makes a request: “Taste it.”

You waste no time in taking your fingers to your mouth, gliding your tongue on the pads of your fingertips, and spreading the salty fluid in your mouth. All you can focus on is the heavenly sight of Taehyung coming. Each breath he lets out comes with a moan. You swear you can feel the vibration of his low voice against your own chest. His hair covers his eyes but you know they’re closed in pleasure. He intakes one sharp breath before it finally takes him over.

He can feel nothing but release. Release of stress. Release of work. Release of anything except you. As white spurts of cum squirt from his dick in a messy stream of strings, all you can think about is the beauty of his body.

“This was fun,” you admit with a smile. “I’m glad my attempt didn’t flop.”

“No, that would’ve been a huge mistake on my part.”

As you look down, your eyelashes brush the top of your cheeks and you bite your lip in anticipation. “I know I’m graduating and all, but we should do this again sometime. If you’re interested.”

He rests his elbows on his desk and brings himself closer to the camera. With his hand holding the side of his face, he takes in the sweet sight of you. “Did you enjoy it that much?”

“Oh yes. In fact, unlike some people, I’d give you an A-plus.”

[smuttylemonade]

You’ve got a way to go, Superstar! A Five Nights at Freddy’s Security Breach Fanfiction Rated: Explicit

Chapter 1.

“I gotta admit, it’ll be nice to have someone else in the building after we close. I mean, another flesh and blood person instead of all these damned robots. I’ve read the reports…I know what happens. I’m surprised we are still open after all the stuff that has gone on but people just are willing to ignore all the signs. I’m glad I got this job because you need someone sharp to keep watch and keep things in line.” The 23 year old security guard rushed ahead to open a door for her and she nodded her thanks but kept walking forcing him to jog to keep up with her. “I could come and hang out with you down in the basement…keep you safe. In between my rounds of course. In case something happens while you work you’ll need someone to handle the situation.” She could barely hold her tongue. She was so tired of hearing every security guard at every facility rant and rave about how they were the last stand against the dangerous A.I. They were there to make sure kids didn’t break in and piss in the soda machines or graffiti curse words all over the daycare. Security didn’t have the means to stop animatronics as advanced as Freddy and Chica, if they could just understand that and just lock themselves down like they were supposed to then maybe the losses in the past might not have been so great. She mentally mapped the way to the elevator so she would not need this escort a second night through the vast multiplex, she didn’t care much for people and if she could avoid speaking to this security guard again, she would. “You won’t see much of me. I’m going to be down in Parts and Service and because of the nature of my work, your access to that area has been revoked. If you need me, I’m available through the communication network but do try not to need me. Good Evening.” She said, swiping her watch on the door and sighing as the doors slid closed finally leaving her alone. Being the overnight technician was honestly the best job for her and this promotion meant she could finally work with the most advanced animatronics and not just the cleaning bots or security bots. The multiplex was closed for the next few weeks for repairs after some kind of disaster or another so she had a good while to get things running smoothly. The main complaint was with Freddy and Chica, Chica had been complaining of hunger and had been hunting through the trash for scraps of food after hours and Freddy had been unstable, something in his systems had been malfunctioning. She had run some diagnostics remotely and it had seemed like two systems had tried to operate at once during a showtime program and he had shorted out. The second program was completely unknown to her and she was going to have to do some work to figure out what exactly it was and how it had gotten installed. The upper floors of the Pizzaplex were bright and colorful but the lower floors were dark and gray, utilitarian. The winding tunnels looked mostly the same but after some time she finally arrived at Parts and Service. This area was pretty standard across all larger complexes so it took no time at all for her to get her tools set up and a pot of coffee brewing. With a steaming cup of coffee in her hands, she sank down at the desk and turned on the computer. The overhead speaker chimed, signaling it was awaiting input. “System, Recall Glamrock Freddy to Parts and Service for Maintenance upon end of changing cycle”There was a pause and then another chime. “Confirmed. Estimated arrival of Glamrock Freddy unit... 15 minutes.”While she waited, she read through the most recent logs and reports from Freddy’s last diagnostic checkups and upgrades, looking for anything out of the usual. Aside from the size of the file being a bit bigger than she thought it should be, everything downloaded looked normal. The sound of measured heavy footfalls drew her gaze from the computer screen to the main door as the hulking shape of Glamrock Freddy appeared in the doorway and made his way to the center of the room.

“Hello Freddy.. How are you feeling today?” She asked with a smile, rising from her chair and eyeing him over. The newest models were well over 6 feet tall, so they could be spotted easily in the crowds of children and parents and could be seen on stage no matter how far away your seats were. She never really got over how small she felt in comparison to them.

“Good Evening, May I scan you?” Freddy’s voice seemed to boom off the stone walls and her heart did a little jump at the sound. It always took some adjusting to work with the entertainment bots in smaller spaces.

She nodded her head “You may.”

Freddy moved his eyes across her face so that his retinal systems could locate her profile. “You are Employee Number 5625988 Title: Freelance Technical Operator. I see! You are here to help me after what happened during my last performance. What shall I call you superstar?”

Her cheeks burned, man those daddy issues were on full display. “Call me Kat. Tell me how are you feeling tonight after a full charge?”

His eyes shifted back and forth for a moment as though he was examining how he felt before answering. “I’m feeling a bit slow if I’m being honest. Can you help me?” His voice dropped a little as he asked for help, the sound almost pleading. She blinked at the shift and tilted her head. She had never heard such inflection before from any of the units she had worked with before. Perhaps the Multiplex units were more advanced? “I will do all that I can Freddy. I promise.” She assured him before motioning for him to lay down on the table so she could hook him up to her system.

She immediately muted the step by step guidance system that tried to turn on and reached over to slip a cable into a tiny slot set into the base of Freddy’s skull.

Sitting down beside the table, she brought up the screen and began going through the countless lines of code.

“Do you mind if we talk? I do not like too much silence.” Freddy asks abruptly, his large eyes shifted over in her direction. Once again his behavior was giving her pause. This was very advanced behavior for an animatronic AI. She still had much to learn about these systems it seemed. “Of course we can. What do you want to talk about?”

“What is your favorite color?” He asked, his pawed feet shifting back and forth as she typed something into the computer. She relaxed upon hearing his question, this kind of questioning was perfect for kids. Perhaps this was a program to help ease shy children into interacting with him.

“Oh that’s tough. I’d have to say blue but not just any blue. Like an aqua blue….like your blue stripe. It’s such a pretty color. What about you Freddy?” She asked, glancing up.

His hand was touching his blue stripe and he was smiling. “You like my stripes? Thank you Katherine! It is a very pretty color. My Stripe is my favorite part of me. I think my favorite color is green! Like a pale soft green, like your eyes!”

“Oh thank you Freddy.” She said, feeling herself blush a little at how closely he was watching her face.

Freddy asked her questions of all kinds, what's your favorite song, animal, food, did she have any siblings or children of her own, did she like to read or draw, could she play music, did she like movies or tv…his questions seemed to never end but she honestly didn’t mind them. They always seemed genuine and he always seemed to honestly enjoy her responses, she knew deep down it was just a program but it felt more honest than her interactions with most people.

As she opened a file, she frowned and leaned closer to the screen as a program asked to run.

“Program: Hardcore_Glamrock_Freddy.exe? I’ve never heard of this... It’s been trying to open in the background since it was downloaded though. Looks like it was installed during your last major update...lets see what it does before I remove it. Let’s start with activating safe mode...ok….Ready Freddy?”

“I am ready.” He agreed, and with the touch of her mouse she activated the unknown program that had been buried in his systems.

[knuffled]

Just Practice - Chapter 16

it’s here! i know i said this last chapter, but this is the most important one in the fic so far now. hope you enjoy it! if you could leave a comment and reblog, it would mean the world to me! thank you!

ao3 link here

The state cross country meet was held on a cold, gray April morning. Rainfall from the night before had left the ground muddy and slick, and clouds still lingered in the sky, obscuring the sun. Mist seeped out of the woods and crept across the ground, coating each blade of grass with dew. Annabeth toyed with her jacket’s zipper and watched her teammates file off the school bus. Coach had left her in charge of finding a spot for the team to warm up before the race, which meant a lot of standing around in the cold.

Annabeth chaperoned her team in search of an unoccupied spot, but it looked like they were late to arrive. Much of the grounds had already been camped by other schools. As they passed, Annabeth made mental note of the competition that had gathered. She recognized two girls from Northbrook who had placed higher than her at state the year before. There was the girl from Creston that beaten her to second place at the invitational. A few runners from Seneca Falls passed by from time to time, but Reyna herself was not among them.

Once they were settled, Annabeth led the group stretches in Coach Davis’s stead. The chill quickly sank into her bones and the wet grass drenched her yoga pants, only adding insult to injury. Annabeth could hear her teammates’s teeth chattering when the cold wind blew past. They were uncharacteristically solemn, even the younger ones. State tended to have that effect. The effort to stay focused was evident by the grimaces on their faces, but more than that a cloud of anxiety hung over them. Annabeth had hoped Coach Davis would have some words of encouragement for them but she was nowhere to be seen.

Strangely, this was perhaps the one meet that Annabeth did not share in their nervousness. She was so accustomed to being a bundle of nerves during meets that it seemed completely bizarre to feel otherwise. Today, however, it was like Annabeth was so focused she didn’t feel anything at all, but it wasn’t a strained focus. Instead, it was somehow relaxed and effortless. Percy had described the sensation to her before when she had asked him how he managed to stay so calm before swim meets, but she had never understood his explanations. Now, experiencing it firsthand, she couldn’t help thinking it was a good omen.

Coach Davis returned just as one of the meet officials announced the women’s five kilometer would begin shortly, and Annabeth approached her once she was done with her stretches.

“I think you should say something to them,” Annabeth muttered. “They look like they’re going to puke.”

Coach raised an eyebrow. “Me? You’re the captain. Rallying the troops is your job.”

Before Annabeth could protest, Coach stood in front of the team and cleared her throat. “Alright, listen up everyone! Your captain has a few words for you all before the race.”

Annabeth pursed her lips and balled her hands at her sides. She wasn’t one for speeches. Still, the tentative, expectant look on the faces of her teammates compelled her to say something.

“Um, congratulations to everyone that made it here,” Annabeth started. “For some of you, this is your first time competing at state. It’s normal to be nervous. I know I certainly was my first time here. But, I want you to know you’re here for a reason. Trust in all the hard work and dedication that brought you here, and make sure when you leave here today, you do so with no regrets!”

Looking at her teammates now, Annabeth couldn’t help feeling a lump form in her throat. “I, um, also just wanted to say that it has been an honor and a privilege to be your captain this year. I know I haven’t been that great at it, but I couldn’t be more proud of you all. Now, this is the last race of the season, so let’s go out there and make it count!”

The cheers of her teammates took Annabeth by surprise and embarrassed her. She shifted on her heels and felt her face heat up. Even she herself was taken aback by how well she had spoken. A few of her teammates thanked her or clapped her on the back when they passed by. Even Clarisse gave her a begrudging nod of respect before jostled past her on her way to the starting line. Annabeth hid a smile and shook her head before she turned back to Coach Davis.

Coach gave her a thumbs up and said, “I didn’t know you had it in you, kid. That was a killer speech.”

Annabeth breathed an incredulous laugh. “Don’t expect me to do it again. That was one hundred percent luck.”

Coach shrugged and said, “Who knows? Maybe today’s your lucky day.”

“I sure hope so.”

Coach Davis threw an arm around Annabeth’s shoulder. “I know so. Next time I see you, you’re gonna be holding a first place ribbon in your hand. You’re gonna kill it today, Chase.”

Annabeth ducked her chin to hide a smile. “Thanks, Coach. I’ll do my best.”

Coach gave her a final clap on the back and whispered, “Go get ‘em, kid.”

Annabeth nodded and jogged over to the starting line. Since she was late to arrive, Annabeth didn’t even bother jostling for a place closer to the head of the pack. It was nothing she couldn’t make up within the first few minutes of the race anyways.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her body felt lighter than normal. Her mind was clear. Around her, tension droned in the air like a buzzing bee, but she felt removed from it all. She couldn’t bring herself to feel nervous, even as the official raised his gun and squeezed the trigger.

This was it, Annabeth mused. Her last high school race.

And then, the gunshot shattered the silence and Annabeth took off into the misty woods.

The ground was so soft and slippery that it was difficult to maintain proper footing and weave between all the other runners during the initial scramble to find a place. It didn’t take long for mud to cake her shoes and shins, much to her chagrin. But, after a few minutes, Annabeth found herself a spot towards the head of the pack.

The pace Annabeth held for the first half of the race was faster than the one she had adopted at the invitational, and as such it wasn’t long before she pulled into tenth. Since the new year, she had focused almost exclusively on her stamina, training to her limits. One Reyna’s greatest strengths was that she could sustain a brutal pace for the majority of a race. That alone gave her enough of a cushion to make it practically impossible to make up the distance by the end of the race. Annabeth realized that it was essential to keep up with Reyna until that point if she wanted to stand any chance of beating her.

All of that effort finally showed results when Annabeth managed to push into third place twelve minutes into the race. The girl from Creston was ahead of her, but Annabeth could tell that she was faltering. Her pace hadn’t improved since the invitational but Annabeth’s had. Annabeth’s suspicions proved correct when she managed to pass her only a minute later and pull ahead into second place.

Now, there was only one last obstacle. Reyna was ahead of her, but her lead wasn’t so large that Annabeth wouldn’t be able to make up the distance. If she had to estimate, there were perhaps a hundred meters between them, and she had the better part of three minutes to close it.

Annabeth set her jaw in grim determination and picked up her pace. Deviating so early from her race pace was risky, but she couldn’t afford to play it safe if she wanted to beat Reyna. She was doing fine in terms of stamina, and there was enough adrenaline coursing through her to give her confidence that she wouldn’t burn out.

Over the next two minutes, Annabeth managed to shrink the distance from a hundred meters to twenty. Reyna even heard her coming and fixed her a steely look over her shoulder before facing forward again. Even in the heat of competition, Annabeth couldn’t help taking a moment to admire Reyna. Her form was still immaculate this late into the race. There was something beautiful about the sheer efficiency of it. The only sign she was even working hard was the sweat on her brow.

But with six hundred meters left to go, Annabeth was still unable to bridge the distance between them. The remaining distance made things tricky. It was too much for her to abandon her pace and launch into a sprint. Honestly, her legs were already having a difficult time maintaining her current punishing pace, but Annabeth couldn’t afford to go into the final two hundred meters of the race behind Reyna. With a headstart, Reyna would beat her ten out of ten times in a sprint.

So, Annabeth made a bold gamble and abandoned her pace early.

Sprinting for over a third of a mile was not possible. Annabeth knew that. At best, Annabeth guessed could manage a little under four hundred meters at close to a sprint. Ideally, she would pull far enough ahead during that time and Reyna would be unable to make up the distance during the final two hundred meters.

Annabeth dug deep into what little stamina she had left and pushed herself as hard as she could. She grit her teeth and ignored the way her lungs immediately burned in protest. Reyna gave her a look when Annabeth managed to pull alongside her, but then she subsequently increased her own pace.

Annabeth wanted to scream. Reyna had an even faster pace?

Before she could spiral into negativity, Annabeth forced herself to calm down and re-evaluate the situation. She had no way of knowing, but it was entirely possible that she was throwing Reyna off her pace. If Reyna hadn’t planned for that, it could deplete her stamina much faster than she would have anticipated. Which meant that it wasn’t impossible for Annabeth to win.

Of course, it was all complete conjecture. Maybe Reyna had practiced for this very situation, and Annabeth was doomed. But if there was even a remote possibility that Annabeth was throwing her off her game plan, she would take it. If she could force a war of attrition, Annabeth could actually see a world where she could win.

Don’t slow down. Just keep running.

The following two minutes were perhaps the most brutal in Annabeth’s entire running career. It felt like her lungs were tearing themselves in two, and her calves burned like they had been coated in acid. The simple act of breathing was painful. At some point, her mind blanked out, and she slipped into a kind of trance. Thinking was no longer a necessary function. All that mattered was putting one foot in front of the next. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

But then, for the first time in the race, Reyna began to falter. Her shoulders were hunched and her stride grew inconsistent. It was subtle but cracks were beginning to appear.

A rush of excitement swept through Annabeth.

She could win this. All she had to do was deliver the finishing blow.

Just one final push, and state was hers.

Annabeth reached into the last vestiges of her stamina and pushed forward, desperate to pass Reyna for the first time.

But then, she hit a patch of mud and slipped, hyper-extending her leg.

Her left knee made a popping sound.

A bolt of pain unlike anything she had ever felt before shot up her leg.

Annabeth released a cry of pain and fell into the mud. Her mind was still blank, so it took her a moment to register what had happened. Once she came to, Annabeth desperately scrambled to her feet, but her left leg gave out on her the moment she put any weight on it.

She tried again only to fall face first into the mud. Annabeth blinked in disbelief and looked up. Reyna was getting further away. This couldn’t be happening. She was going to lose.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!

Annabeth pounded the ground with her fist, hard enough to bruise her knuckles. She laid there in the mud, lacking the energy and the will to sit up. Anger wracked through her like venom.

She had finally been about to beat Reyna. Just a little more, and she would have done it.

But now, she had no shot.

It was all over for her.

At this point, she wouldn’t even finish the race.

Mud crept into her mouth, forcing her to finally sit up. Annabeth spit it out, but the taste of defeat lingered on her tongue. She brushed away the tears pricking her eyes and blearily took in her surroundings.

It was so quiet. Her knee throbbed in agony. Reyna had stopped. Mist curled around Annabeth’s waist. The ground trembled ever so slightly, heralding the onrush of runners.

Wait, Reyna had stopped?

What was she doing? Why was she just standing there? The other runners were going to catch up to her.

She watched in disbelief as Reyna walked over to her and dropped to a crouch, a strained look in her eyes. “Can you stand?”

Annabeth blinked blearily. “What?”

“Can you stand on your own?” Reyna repeated. “Or do you need help?”

Annabeth screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I- I don’t understand-”

Before she could react, Reyna tugged her onto her feet and threw Annabeth’s arm over her own shoulder. Reyna held her hip and pulled her into her side to support Annabeth’s weight before her knees buckled from under her.

The girl in third place sped past them without so much as a look.

Annabeth stared at Reyna with wide eyes and hoarsely asked, “W-What are you doing?”

When Reyna didn’t answer, Annabeth squirmed in her grasp. “Let me go.”

“Shut up.”

Three more girls passed them in rapid succession.

“Let me go,” Annabeth pleaded, her voice cracking. “You’re throwing the fucking race! Let me go!”

Reyna refused to look at her. “I said shut up.”

A lump formed in Annabeth’s throat, and she found herself fighting back tears. She didn’t think it was possible, but this was somehow worse than injuring her knee.

“Wha- Why?” Annabeth stammered. “Why are you going so far for me?”

“Because we’re friends,” Reyna said simply. “Now, let’s get going. We’ve got a race to finish.”

Annabeth barely registered the journey to the finish line. Her knee throbbed in pain the entire time, and her heart felt like it was tearing itself in two. It was already bad enough that she had completely fucked up the race, but the fact that she had stolen Reyna’s victory too was more than she could bear. At the rate she was going, Reyna would have broken the state record and placed nationally if it hadn’t been for her. Annabeth could already tell that she would never forgive herself for this.

The next thing she knew, they had stopped. Annabeth blinked and looked around, trying to figure out where she was, only to find herself standing right in front of Percy and the rest of her friends. Her throat seized up, and her heart squeezed in her chest.

The look on his face made her want to die.

Reyna helped Annabeth into Percy’s arms, a wordless understanding passing between them. He immediately supported her against his chest, and Annabeth melted into him. Usually, his scent was enough to calm her down, but not today. Today, it just made her sad. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and clutched at the fabric of his shirt, her lip quivering.

“P-Percy,” Annabeth whispered, voice cracking.

He held her tightly against him and ran his hands down her back. It was hard to say why, but that gesture was what broke the levy and allowed her to finally cry. Annabeth sobbed in his arms and held onto him like a lifeline.

“Get her to a hospital,” Reyna muttered.

Annabeth could hear Percy speak through his chest. “What happened?”

“She fell. Badly,” Reyna said tersely. “I did my best to get her here, but she’s yours now, alright? Take care of her for me.”

Percy’s grip on her tightened. “I will. I promise.”

There was a pause before Reyna nodded and turned to leave. But before she could get too far away, Percy called out to her.

“Reyna?”

She looked over her shoulder and met his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Reyna paused for a moment and nodded one last time. And then she was gone.

:::

The sky had begun to darken before the hospital staff allowed Percy and her friends in to see her. She had spent nearly two and a half hours in triage with the doctor and nurses. They asked her a lot of questions and ran some preliminary tests on her, mainly to measure her mobility, before they decided she would need to stay overnight. They didn’t know what the issue was for certain until they ran some imaging tests, but their tentative diagnosis only affirmed Annabeth’s worst fears.

After that, she was allowed to take a bath and changed into a hospital gown. Her knee was put in an elevated brace to keep her from putting any weight on it. The position was remarkably uncomfortable, but she had no other options than to bear it.

It was only after that that her friends were allowed inside to see her. They rushed inside and crowded around the bed, except for Percy who lingered by the doorframe. Annabeth fleetingly met his eyes and quickly looked away.

“Oh, Annabeth, we were so worried about you,” Rachel cried, taking her hand.

Frank nodded and quietly said, “They made us wait for so long that we thought something might have happened.”

Annabeth mustered a wan smile. “You mean apart from my knee getting completely fucked?”

Her friends looked at each other before Jason stepped forward and said, “We were afraid they had pulled you into surgery or something.”

“They still need to run a few tests before that,” Annabeth said.

“Do they know what’s wrong yet?” Piper asked, furrowing her brow.

Annabeth did her best to shrug. “They don’t have any leads just yet,” she lied.

There was an awkward silence before Hazel cleared her throat and said, “Well, let us know if there is anything we can do for you.”

“I think I’ll need a change of clothes and some toiletries probably,” Annabeth said.

Piper nodded to herself and made some notes on her phone. “Got it.”

“Anything else?” Rachel asked.

“Nothing for now,” Annabeth said, trying to smile. “Just some bed rest.”

“Alright,” Rachel said, nodding. “Let us know if that changes or if anything comes up.”

Annabeth nodded. “Sure, I will.”

They lingered for a short while longer before a nurse popped into the room to yell at them for having too many people in the room.

Jason sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I guess that’s our cue to leave. We’ll see you later, ABC. And remember: anything you need, we’re here for you.”

Annabeth nodded and waved feebly while they filed out of the room. Only Percy stayed behind, but she had suspected as much. She had been dreading talking to him most of all. When he got worried like this, he wouldn’t let her get away with weaseling her way out of talking.

Percy stood by the base of her bed and offered her a soft smile. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“I tried calling your dad, but he wouldn’t pick up,” Percy said. “Sorry.”

Annabeth nodded. “I figured as much.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Alright, I guess,” Annabeth said. “My knee sure hurts like a bitch though.”

“What happened?” Percy asked. “Reyna said you fell.”

“I mean, yeah, pretty much,” Annabeth said, sighing. “I was about to pass her, but then I slipped on some mud and hyper-extended my leg or something. Next thing I know, my knee is completely fucked and I can barely stand.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said quietly.

“Yeah, well,” Annabeth said, trying for a shrug.

“How are you feeling?”

Annabeth looked at him. “You already asked me that.”

“You told me how your leg was doing, not how you were doing,” Percy said.

“Don’t have the decency to let me wallow in my own misery, huh?” Annabeth joked half-heartedly.

“Afraid not,” Percy said lightly.

Annabeth sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t really know, honestly. Hasn’t really sunk in yet. Just can’t help thinking the universe sure has a sick sense of comedic timing that’s all.”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I was so close, Percy, so fucking close,” Annabeth said. “Just a little more and I had Reyna beat. But, when the time came, I fucked up like I always do.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Percy said. “You were just insanely unlucky.”

“I know,” Annabeth said, smiling sardonically. “That’s what makes it so funny. I’ve spent the last six years of my life training my fucking ass off, and all it took was one moment to make it all completely meaningless. Isn’t that just fucking hilarious?”

Percy shifted uneasily and said, “Annabeth-”

“And you know the worst part is that I dragged Reyna into it too,” Annabeth said, shaking her head. “She was going to win and place nationally, and I stole that from her.”

“She made that choice herself,” Percy said gently. “Besides, we don’t know if she would have won for sure.”

“Yeah?” Annabeth laughed humorlessly. “Well, here’s something I do know: it would have been better for everyone if she’d left me there in the mud.”

Percy inhaled sharply and said, “Oh, Annabeth. There’s absolutely no way that’s true. And all your hard work wasn’t for nothing either. You still have all of your college career ahead of you.”

Annabeth stared down at her lap, a lump forming in her throat. “But what if I didn’t?”

Percy furrowed his brow and said, “What do you mean?”

Annabeth wrung her wrists. “T-They’re saying that I probably tore my ACL.”

“But you said before-”

“I was lying,” Annabeth interrupted. “I just didn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone.”

There was a slight pause before Percy held a hand to his forehead and muttered, “Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

They both knew a torn ACL had spelled the end to many an athlete’s career. It wasn’t a death sentence, but there was a good chance Annabeth would never come back stronger than before her injury.

Percy’s hands tightened around her bedframe. “It’ll be alright. I’m sure that some surgery and rehab will do the trick.”

“Wish I shared in your optimism,” Annabeth said, half-smiling.

“Look, I know it seems hopeless right now, but you’ll make it out. You always do.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “And there’s also a good chance I’ll never be as fast again.”

“Well, I believe in you,” Percy said. “I know how strong you are.”

Annabeth offered him a weak smile. “But what if I don’t believe in me?”

“Then I’ll do enough for the both of us and make up for it,” Percy said gently.

His words should have made her feel better, but instead they lit a spark of anger in her. “Just because you believe in something, doesn’t make it true, Percy.”

Percy must have sensed the shift in her mood and carefully said, “I’m aware of that.”

“No, you clearly aren’t,” Annabeth snorted. “This isn’t something you can just self-help, positive thinking bullshit your way out of.”

“I never said it was,” Percy said quietly.

“But it’s what you meant,” Annabeth insisted.

Percy pursed his lips and looked at her. “What would be more helpful for me to say instead?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you can start by acknowledging what’s really going on,” Annabeth said caustically.

“And what’s that?”

Annabeth sat up straight and crossed her arms over her chest. “How about you admit I might never be able to run competitively again? Or how about admitting I’m responsible for sabotaging Reyna’s victory at state? Admit that my best isn’t good enough, that it’ll never be good enough.”

“And that will help you feel better?” Percy asked slowly.

“Compared to the garbage you were saying before? Yeah, it would.”

Hurt flickered in Percy’s eyes before he took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’m not going to say that.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?” Annabeth demanded.

“It’ll only make you feel worse,” Percy said quietly.

Annabeth ground her teeth and glared at him. “You know, I really hate when you do that.”

Percy furrowed his brow. “What?”

“When you pretend to know how I think or feel,” Annabeth fumed. “Or when you act like you know what’s good for me. It’s so fucking arrogant.”

“I didn’t mean for it to come across-”

“Then stop fucking pretending this isn’t real!” Annabeth snapped. “Do you really not understand how completely fucked I am right now?”

“Annabeth, I get how you feel. Trust me, I do,” Percy said. “But with the right treatment-”

“Percy, I could lose my scholarship over this,” Annabeth interrupted, fighting back tears. “I-I can’t afford to go to Berkeley without one, and I sure as hell can’t ask my fucking parents for money. They couldn’t even be bothered to see me here!”

He paused and processed the information quietly for a few moments before he said, “If we find a good surgeon and a physical therapist, they’ll figure out a way to cure you.”

“But what if it doesn’t work?” Annabeth asked desperately. “What if I never fully recover?”

Percy walked around the side of her bed and took her hand. “Then we’ll figure that out together too.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Annabeth laughed bitterly. “This isn’t your fucking problem. You still have your scholarship. Even if you didn’t, your mom would help pay your tuition. You still have people who give a shit about you. I don’t have anyone like that.”

There was a hint of tragic desperation in Percy’s voice when he said, “But you have me.”

Annabeth looked up at him with a strained smile. “Do I? Do I really?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Percy asked, narrowing his eyes.

“You have been hiding things from me,” Annabeth said quietly. “You’ve been hiding things from me, who knows for how long.”

“Annabeth, what are you talking-”

“Kara Mayfield,” Annabeth said tiredly.

Percy stiffened like he had been slapped across the face, and that was the final nail in the coffin.

“Where you ever going to tell me about her, about what happened to you two?” Annabeth asked softly.

When Percy was silent, Annabeth breathed an incredulous laugh and shook her head. “So never then, apparently.”

“I never meant to hide anything from you,” Percy said. “It’s just-”

“I don’t want your excuses, Percy,” Annabeth said. “Either you don’t trust me enough, or you think I’m too fragile to handle it, like I’m some kindergartner that needs protecting because I don’t know what’s good for me.”

“I’ve always only ever had complete trust in you, Annabeth,” Percy said tersely.

“Well, it sure doesn’t feel like it,” Annabeth fumed. “I have never kept anything from you. I’ve always told you absolutely everything about myself. I guess it just hurts because I assumed that you did the same.”

Annabeth paused and stared down at her lap, digging her fingernails into her palms. “Honestly, it’s fine if there are things you can’t tell me. Like, it hurts but I can live with it. But then what was the point of the fucking ocean of subtext that you’ve been forcing me to swim through since the start of the school year? I just don’t understand why the fuck you’ve been leading me by the nose on this wild goose chase if you’re so unwilling to open up to me. At least have the decency to make up your fucking mind.”

When Percy still continued to remain silent, Annabeth just felt suddenly exhausted, like all the events of the day had caught up with her all at once.

“I’m just so tired of this, Percy,” she muttered. “I’m tired of having to lie awake at night trying to analyze why you said this or did that. I’m just so fucking tired of it, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“You don’t think I would’ve said something if I could have?” Percy said tightly. “You think that I’ve liked keeping things from you? It kills me-”

“Then just tell me then!” Annabeth said. “This is your chance: right here! Just fucking say what’s on your mind for once.”

“I can’t!” Percy said, voice cracking. “I- I just can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Percy was silent for a moment before he whispered, “I don’t know.”

Annabeth bit her lower lip to keep it from quivering. “You’re breaking my fucking heart, Percy Jackson. I really hope you know that.”

Percy took a step closer to her, looking shattered, but Annabeth pointedly looked away at the opposite wall and cleared her throat.

“If you don’t have anything to say, I think you should just leave.”

A suffocating silence draped over them like a blanket, so palpable that Annabeth could almost feel the weight of it smothering them both. She held her breath, hoping against hope, that Percy would finally come out with everything he was holding back, but he didn’t say anything.

She didn’t know how long he simply stood there before he opened the door to her hospital room. He paused between the doorframe for a few moments, and her heart jack-hammered inside her chest.

This was it, Annabeth realized. This was finally how he left her.

Before he could close the door behind him, Annabeth frantically turned to him and yelled, “I’m in love with you!”

Percy froze and looked at her with a searching gaze. Blood pounded in Annabeth’s ears. Maybe now he wouldn’t leave. Anything to make him stay.

It felt like an eternity before Percy withered in front of her. His smile was achingly kind and familiar, but Annabeth was too struck by the hurt in his eyes. She had never seen him in so much pain before. Was that all her doing?

“It’s alright, Annabeth,” Percy smiled. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

His words hit her like a sledgehammer to the face. The door closed and shut behind him before she could react, and then she was alone.

And then she was alone.

[stab-the-son-of-a]

Whumptober No.4 - Taken Hostage

TW: Guns, off-screen assumed character death, sexist character, smoking

Taglist: @whumpers-inc

There is a surprising (and hand-cramping) amount of paperwork that goes into working at a call center, even one as unconventional as 1-877-WHMP-NOW. An annoying, several hour, several stack amount. Bianca will never forgive whoever it was in HR or accounting (the only two departments who actually seem masochistic enough to enjoy bureaucracy) that suggested all these extra reports and encounter summaries and redundancy measures.

In the same way you tune out the world while enjoying a nature walk and only begin paying attention again when your unconscious mind notices something dangerously wrong, Bianca pauses in her muttered curses to the paperwork gods and listens.

“Why of course she’s in today,” Fran says in a tight tone. “I’ll just transfer you right to your personal whump-passionate care coordinator, Dom.”

Not Dom. Not that irritating, overly stuffed up crock of shit again. Dom had run through almost the entire call center, leaving Bianca the only person who had yet to swear to walk if they were forced to deal with the self-impressed asshole. Jerking her head up, Bianca stares Fran down, like a deer willing a semi-truck to change paths. She shakes her head, desperately miming cutting across her throat with a rushed flail.

Their gazes lock. Fran continues to dial, even as they watch Bianca’s distressed pantomime with all the impassive finality of a monarch’s sentence.

“Don’t you dare, Fran,” Bianca hisses. “I swear by all that is good and holy if you transfer him--”

Her line rings, and she answers it with a chipper grin that doesn’t touch her glare one bit. “Well hey, sugar!” If looks could kill, Bianca would be in a whole other line of work right now as she tosses an eraser at Fran’s head. “What can I do for you today, hun?”

Well, she can already tell this isn’t going to be a pleasant call, not if the sirens are any indication.

“Brianna,” Dom cries, “I’m too handsome for jail!”

Bianca mouths to Fran, “I’ll kill you,” even as they duck their head and pretend to be oh-so invested in their latest call report. She tosses another eraser and this one hits the mark, bouncing off the back of their skull.

“Hello! Brianna! I need you to put down the Covergirl or your nail file and do your job, sweetheart.”

Rolling her eyes, she returns her attention to Dom. “I’m awful sorry. What did you say your emergency was?”

“Thank you for the urgency,” he spits.

Bianca waits for him to elaborate. The sirens on his end of the line continue blaring, the voluming growing as they grow closer.

“Did the line cut out, sugar?” she prompts, carefully sterilizing her tone with a thick layer of honey.

“I tried to rob this small town little podunk town store and took this girl--” Dom lets out a short cry of pain and kicks at something. He corrects himself, ”This bitch. And someone had the nerve to call the cops on me!”

At the sound of gunfire- too close to the gun to be from any policeman, Bianca raises a single brow in silent question of his intelligence. In her humble, professional opinion wasting ammo on puerile displays and a lead tantrum is useless, but again, she’s just a professional. She only graduated at the top of her class and has years, if not decades, on Dom in terms of experience.

Of course, Bianca says none of that.

“Have you taken the girl hostage, Dom?”

“Yes! Jeez, do I have to spell everything out for you people?”

“It’s very helpful when our clients are clear and precise, Dom,” Bianca returns, an almost feral edge to the too wide portions of her smile. “Have you read our informational brochure, ‘So You Want to Take a Hostage’? Or perused our FAQs for whumpers?”

“Why should I?”

A year ago maybe Bianca might have been surprised. Now she’s just glad Dom can’t see the various mocking faces and mouthed insults she indulges in due to such a response. That doesn’t mitigate the desire she feels to bash her head against her desk until her mental faculties match Dom’s. Instead, she parrots, “No. Why should you.”

“So, what do I do?” Dom asks, impatience clear in his tone. “How do I get out of this?”

“Well, Dom, could I speak with your hostage for a hot sec?”

Completely ignoring her question, Dom muses aloud, “What if I just went out there with my guns and just started shooting. There’s only one car out there. I can take out some backwater donut cop.”

She loves her job. She loves her job. She. Loves. Her. Job. She may be a masochist.

“That course of action might not work well, sugar,” Bianca says carefully.

“Why not?”

Just as she’s about to answer, said aforementioned cop starts in with the megaphones and the offers for surrender. Quickly, she traces the call while Dom yells back about assholes and what he deserves and specifically what the cop deserves, involving his megaphone and uncomfortable places.

That ‘podunk’ little town is more of a small city, and even if there is only one cop currently there, there are bound to be more en route, and rapidly at that.

“Are you listening to me, sweetheart?” Dom demands. “There’s only one of him and I’ve got two guns. It’s fool proof.”

Oh, it’s something to do with fools alright. “So, to clarify, you’ve got a gun in each hand?”

“I just said that, honey, put your listening ears on and try to keep up.”

Over her ten plus years working with the call center, Bianca has heard plenty of stupid shit in her time but trying to go out dual wielding guns is… a new one. She quickly shoots Fran a short text reading, You SO owe me, Franny.

“What about your hostage? How are you going to keep control over her? Is she bound?” Bianca tries to reason with Dom, the apparent Blade wannabe, even if it’s futile.

“I’ll bring her with and put the gun to her head. Easy.”

Easy. Yes, so easy. Fran returns her text. ‘You’re the absolute goddess of dealing with BS I am not worthy.’

“Dom, could you be a dear and let me speak with her, please? Thank you sugar.”

“God what is it with women always needing to yap yap yap?” Dom complains as he rips the gag out of the hostage’s mouth.

“FUCK YOU!” She howls immediately. “I’ll bite your fingers off, you small dicked piece of shit!”

So, Bianca had admittedly harbored suspicions that the ‘girl’ was actually a grown woman, considering Dom’s typical behavior, but this certainly confirms that. A wistful sigh builds as Bianca listens to the hostage chew Dom out and insult his manhood and intelligence.

‘Damn straight. I expect pumpkin spice brownies and a latte on my desk tomorrow morning.’

‘It’s June.’

“It’s DOM.’

‘Pumpkin spice brownies gotcha.’

A solid, but wet crack jerks Bianca’s attention back to the matter at hand. The hostage is eerily quiet. Waiting for a response from either Dom or the hostage, she picks at the dry skin on her lips and taps her foot.

“Oh shit,” Dom whispers.

Screwing her eyes shut as if that will change what his answer is, Bianca asks, “Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you just pistol whip your hostage?”

“Yeah.”

Nope, this is officially the stupidest, most asinine, bass-ackwards call from a client she’s ever had to suffer through. Clearly having overheard, Fran twists around to get a better vantage point to watch as Bianca places her head in her hands and fights back a scream of frustration.

Collecting herself, Bianca chirps, “I’m sorry, sugar, but you really ought to have read our guide. The first rule of a hostage situation is to keep your hostage alive as leverage. Now, as it stands, you’re a murderer surrounded by... “ She counts up each little blip. “Four cop cars and another two on the way. You have to understand, honey, that it goes against policy to stay involved.”

“What? No! You can’t do this you bitch!”

Bianca grins, sharp and vicious. “Oh, Dom, I can, and I will.” With that, and Dom still shouting injustice, she hangs up.

“I’ve wanted to do that for forever,” she breezily admits to Fran.

They match her smile inch for inch, and then some. “Bee, you’re my hero. I’m throwing in maple walnut fudge pancakes just for that.”

“Of course we’ll have IT burn the connection and remote into Dom’s phone before the incident gets too close to home, blah blah blah, and we’ll look into whether that lady remembers anything after the whole gun to the head thing,” she dismisses, “but for now, I need a smoke break or twenty. Toodles!”

[cinnaminsvga]

🌸 social media au where y/n posts a fake boyfriend application on twitter as a dare but ends up seeking something real in the long run (aka how to fall in love the zillennial way) 🌸

A/N: RIP Jungkook... When will he catch a break, I wonder? Who is Hoseok to him anyway? Much to think about... Also I’m just gonna say this, but Jungkook is literally the most unreliable narrator I’ve ever had to write, so take that in mind when you read this. Enjoy! || W.C. 2K

prev // part 14 of ? // next masterlist here.

[updates every 6PM PST]

It takes another 10 minutes or so until the maintenance guy manages to rescue both Jungkook and Namjoon out of the elevator. Luckily, the elevator didn’t stop midway between floors so they didn’t have to crawl or climb out, so getting out is a quick and easy ordeal once the doors are opened. Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief, but that moment of calm is short-lived when he hears Namjoon clear his throat behind him.

“Umm… Jungkook-ssi, right?” Namjoon addresses him by his name for the first time. Jungkook jumps up in surprise, though he should have known that you would have ratted him out when you found out he was intentionally ignoring the taller boy.

“I… Yeah. And you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook doesn’t even bother tacking on the question mark at the end, too worn out mentally to bother pretending like he’d only suddenly realized. He rubs the back of his neck, thankful that he’s turned away from Namjoon so that he doesn’t see the flash of annoyance across his face.

Without another word, Jungkook begins climbing the last two flights of stairs to reach your shared apartment. He doesn’t turn to see if Namjoon follows, though he does hear the extra pair of footsteps close by.

When they file into your shared home, the awkward tension magnifies tenfold. While Namjoon and Jungkook had been gone, it seems that Hoseok has already made himself comfortable, laughing jovially at something you said as he helps you bring the last remaining pairs of cutlery to the table. Jungkook looks over at the new visitor from the corner of his eye and notices the way Hoseok has his gaze locked fervently on you as you fussed over everyone’s seating arrangements.

“Oh, Jungkook! Namjoon!” You shove Yoongi’s plate towards him the moment you hear the door open, sprinting over to the two of them. Your hair is in complete disarray, slightly frizzy in places even after you had painstakingly taken an hour this morning trying to look presentable. Even so, Jungkook can’t help the way his heart beats a little faster when you envelop him in a tight hug, as you’ve always looked cute to him no matter what. When he wraps his arms around you to return the embrace, he feels you lower your lips near his ears. “You’re in big fucking trouble, mister. We’re talking after all of this is over,” you whisper darkly. He gulps audibly when you separate, the smile on your face is eerily present.

Thankfully, you don’t hug Namjoon as well, though an apology is out of your mouth before Jungkook can distract you. “Namjoon, I’m so sorry again. I wish I had warned you about the elevator sooner,” you pout, but Namjoon is quick to waive your concerns.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know. All that matters is that we’re here now.” He smiles warmly, his dimples on full display. You clear your throat, staring wide-eyed at him, no doubt dumbstruck by his handsome features. Jungkook tries to relax the tick in his jaw, but to no avail. Instead, he marches past the two blushing fools, eager to get away.

Since your apartment is quite small, you set most of the food onto the coffee table, with everyone either sitting on the floor or on the couch. Jungkook is quick to take a seat next to you on the couch, but that also forces him to have Seokjin on his other side. The elder winks salaciously at him, which Jungkook pointedly ignores.

Namjoon and Hoseok take a tentative seat on the other side of the coffee table. Namjoon’s gangly legs make it difficult for him to fold himself in properly, so you offer to switch places with him instead, much to Jungkook’s dread. Namjoon glances at him for a moment before hesitantly accepting your offer, squishing himself on Jungkook’s right side on their small, sunken couch. He can feel rather than hear Seokjin’s attempts to mask his nefarious giggles.

You seat yourself beside Hoseok, who smiles widely back at you. “Sorry, I totally forgot to introduce myself. I’m Y/N! I’ve heard all about you from Namjoon.”

“Really? Well, I hope it’s only been good things,” he says. “To be honest, I don’t think I’d see you again after that time in––“

“I’m going to fucking start eating now!” Jungkook interrupts, stabbing his chopsticks into the mountain of pork that you had prepared. Somewhere in Busan, he’s sure his mother is cringing at his terrible manners.

For a moment, you seem startled by his sudden proclamation, but you’re quick to shake it off. “Alright everyone! Please dig in,” you say, clapping your hands with a large grin on your face. Jimin is the first to dive into the food, popping a piece of kimbap into his mouth and moaning loudly in satisfaction.

“Y/N, I don’t know what type of crack you put into your food, but MAN this is delicious,” he says, already piling up his plate with anything he can get his hands on. Yoongi is slightly more reserved when he takes a prawn and chews it softly, nodding in agreement with Jimin’s statement.

“Thank you for this meal, Y/N. You must have worked really hard,” Namjoon says, reaching over for some food as well. Jungkook watches as he nearly bumps the plate of ssam off the edge of the table. “Oh, whoops.”

Hoseok laughs loudly, the sudden noise surprising everyone around him. He doesn’t look all that embarrassed, however. “I’ll have to apologize for Joon in advance. He’s a bit of a clumsy guy.” He smiles kindly at Y/N. “You’re gonna have to get used to that eventually, I suppose.”

Jungkook notices the soft blush rising up your neck. His grip on his chopsticks tightens as he takes a particularly rough bite out of his food. “I, um, suppose I will,” you laugh shyly, rubbing the back of your neck while keeping your gaze off Namjoon. You accidentally make eye contact with Jungkook instead, who didn’t have enough time to erase the annoyance out of his expression. You flinch slightly, before softening your voice in that tone you use whenever Jungkook felt a little stressed out. “Jungkook? Are you okay? Is the meat too tough or something?”

Seokjin snorts beside him, nearly choking as he was in the middle of taking a big swig of water. Jungkook hates that he knows that the bastard is enjoying this way too much. Jungkook’s frustration is easy for anyone to see, with only you being left unaware as to why he was so agitated. Your cluelessness only adds to his bubbling anger. “Yeah, Jungkook. Are you alright? Bet you wished there were less people at the table, huh?”

Jungkook is quick to stomp on his foot, causing the prick to yelp in pain. He’s too busy pinching Seokjin in the tit that he misses the way Namjoon’s face falls, dejectedly looking at his food with a deep furrow in his brow.

“Oh? Are you becoming self-aware? Maybe you should take a page out of your book and leave before I kick you out myself,” you huff, scowling at Seokjin. You must have misinterpreted his little side comment, though Jungkook isn’t sure if he should be thankful for that or not. You turn to Taehyung, who has been mysteriously quiet this entire time. “And you. I know I said you could bring a friend over, but I didn’t expect you to bring this soggy testicle!”

Taehyung just shrugs, his attention focused on his phone. “What?” He doesn’t look up, his fingers furiously occupied with something else. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. Won’t do it again.” When he finishes his text, Seokjin’s phone dings soon right after. Jungkook’s eyes narrow suspiciously at the two, but neither of them seems to care.

You’re beginning to look flustered, mouth opening and closing as you figure out a way to salvage this mess of a dinner. If Jungkook had been slightly less preoccupied with his own swirling thoughts, he might have thought to comfort you or say something to alleviate the tension. Instead, he has his head bowed in shame, the bitter taste in his mouth unwilling to leave until the boy to his right decides to leave first.

“Anyway,” Yoongi clears his throat, causing Jimin to jump beside him. Normally, Yoongi never spoke all that often when they got together, usually content with eating and listening to the younger ones joke around. He isn’t looking at Jungkook, but he knows that Yoongi must have read his mind. He waves his chopsticks around vaguely at Namjoon. “You. You like woodworking, right?”

Startled from being directly addressed, Namjoon’s posture straightens slightly at the mention of his favorite activity. “Y-yes. It’s a bit of a side hobby that I do when I’m not busy with school or work. I’m… not very good. Just a novice, really.” He laughs, nervously propping his glasses up his nose until they’re nearly up to his forehead.

“Oh, hush! Namjoon is fantastic! I got him to make little wooden figurines to decorate the cafe over the summer, isn’t that right?” Seokjin interjects, reaching over Jungkook to slap Namjoon on the back.

“That’s right! Namjoon, I’ve seen your photos on Instagram! You’re definitely good at what you do,” you say, eyes sparkling with amazement. Namjoon coughs shyly into his hand, but it doesn’t hide the blush painting his cheeks.

Jungkook feels his blood pressure boiling, but he grits his teeth instead. “Interesting stuff,” he murmurs sarcastically, soft enough that only you wouldn’t hear. He senses Namjoon sagging back into his seat, but he doesn’t even feel remotely guilty that he had heard him. Even without looking up, he knows that Yoongi is sending him a warning look in response.

“Namjoon, that’s really cool. I’m an interior design major, so I’d love to see what you might think about the wood pieces I’m thinking of purchasing for an upcoming exhibit,” Yoongi says, trying to salvage the situation. Jungkook glares at him, but the elder doesn’t back down. Instead, he quirks a brow up, as if challenging him to say something.

Jimin gasps, a few bits of rice falling out of his mouth and into the plate of ssamjang. “That’s right! Yoongi, didn’t you say you needed something interesting as a center piece for the dining table? Maybe Namjoon can help you with that!”

Namjoon flushes, waving his hands and shaking his head fervently. “Ah, no! I don’t think I can help you with that. I’m sure you can ask plenty of other professionals who are more capable than I am.”

“No, Namjoon. You should help them,” Hoseok quips. He’s got a pout on his face, causing his cheeks to bunch up cutely. Like a fucked up squirrel, Jungkook thinks petulantly, hating how childish he was being but unable to stop. He steals a look at you to see that you’re staring at Hoseok, too. Hoseok pumps his fist up, “Namjoon’s great! He’s just being humble, that’s all.”

“I’ll be sure to ask you for help then, Namjoon.” Yoongi smiles wide, his pink gums appearing for the first time that night. It’s the kind of smile that makes you feel good, like being praised without words. Emboldened by Yoongi’s kindness, Namjoon smiles back, his previously dejection slowly washing away.

Jungkook feels betrayed. He can’t stand sitting in this room anymore, not when all his friends, most especially you, were being so buddy-buddy with this new unwelcome addition to your party. He puts down his chopsticks onto his dish, standing up and making his way over to the kitchen sink.

“Kook? What’s wrong?” You stand up as well, walking towards him. When you reach out to touch his shoulder, he accidentally slaps your hand away on instinct, head fuzzy with too many thoughts. You gasp, cradling your hand to your chest even though he hadn’t hit you that hard. You were mostly shocked, not used to seeing Jungkook so… touchy, and for seemingly no apparent reason. If only you knew, he thinks to himself.

“I have to go. Stomach ache,” is all he says before he’s grabbing his coat from the rack and shoving on his boots. He grabs his car keys, unwilling to turn around to see the expressions on all your faces. “I’m heading to the pharmacy. See you.” He slams the door shut behind him, leaving you more confused and hurt than ever before.

“Well, this sucks, huh?” Seokjin nudges Taehyung with his foot. Taehyung, to his credit, jabs Seokjin straight in the balls.

“Back to the drawing board,” he sighs to himself, rubbing his temples as the elder groans obscenities back at him. This is going to be harder than he thought.

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Antimatter | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 2486

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR 13X15, general Criminal Minds things (mentions of violence, shootings, robberies, death, etc)

This is part of my Galaxy Universe (MASTERLIST). You don’t need to read anything prior to this to understand this fic, though it may help! 

You thought your little found family had finally found some reprieve after a long year of difficulties. Spencer was reinstated, Mr. Scratch was dead, Matt Simmons joined the team, and everything seemed like it was returning to your normal crime fighting routine.

As it turns out, you were wrong.

You didn’t think twice about following Spencer out of the round table room. You were loyal to your team, and Assistant Director Linda Barnes was not going to snuff the mojo out of these people that you loved so much.

You caught up to Spencer in the bullpen, where he was shoving books into his bag. He didn’t look up when you slid onto his desk.

You waited a minute before speaking, “what’s our plan?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” you were quick to follow him to the elevator.

“We need to come up with a plan before you leave, Spence,” you knew what he had just done was risky but it was the right move and you stood by your decision to follow him. You also knew that the problem wasn’t going to be solved without some other course of action, however.

“I can’t go back there. I’m not working with her scrutinizing our every move.”

“So don’t. Stay here and figure out how we’re going to get her out of our hair. Emily might know something that we don’t, she just had a bunch of meetings with Barnes, right?” You didn’t like how tense this conversation was becoming. You were currently on the same page as Spencer, that much you knew, but he could read 20,000 words per minute and it was going to take a lot for you to keep up with the pace his brain was working.

“Emily’s suspended,” you could tell he was thinking hard about what steps to take next.

“Go to her place and let her know what’s happening. Distancing yourself from Barnes is the best move before you get yourself fired.”

“What about you?” The elevator dinged to signal it’s arrival. Spencer stepped inside, holding the doors open.

“I’m going to go with the team. We need boots on the ground to figure out exactly what her plan in action looks like. I’ll be a centralized point for info about how she’s targeting everyone and get you it as quickly as I can.”

“Good luck,” he gave you a sad excuse for a smile.

“Go get Emily, I’ll be ok.” You watched the doors close, then walked back towards the round table room. You straightened your posture before opening the door and positioning yourself next to JJ. The rest of the team gave you some very strange looks that you tried to ignore.

“Will you be joining us, Agent (y/l/n)?” Barnes asked, almost as if she expected you to say no.

“I will, thanks,” you showed no weakness, making direct eye contact with her. She didn’t push further, instead confirming JJ’s ‘Wheel’s Up’ and leaving the room.

You spent the entire trip to St. Louis avoiding questions from the rest of the team about what had happened when you and Spencer left the briefing.

In a moment of quiet on the jet, JJ approached you while you were getting coffee.

“Were you able to talk to Spence before he left?” She asked in a hushed whisper, back to the rest of the plane.

“Yeah,” you said slowly, eyes flickering to where Barnes was staring the two of you down, “I’ll tell you about it later, it’s best that you don’t know for now. Trust us on this?”

JJ nodded, “let me know what you need, I’ll make sure it happens.”

You arrived in St. Louis and watched as Barnes demeaned the local PD, undermined the procedural profiling, and intentionally paired herself off with each member on your team. It was only a matter of time before she got to you.

You had been purposely avoiding her, instead collecting tidbits of information from your coworkers about their conversations with her that were unrelated to the case at hand. You intentionally stayed behind to work victimology when she finally cornered you in the conference room.

“You’re loyal to a fault, Agent (y/l/n),” she wasted no time addressing you.

“Excuse me?” You chose to not look up from the crime scene photos.

“Following Agent Reid out of the office this morning was a bold choice,” she tried to assert herself into your space, something you weren’t about to allow.

“I don’t see how my loyalty is a fault. I could see that Doctor Reid was unwell and I wanted to make sure he was ok.”

“You were suspended while he was in prison last year, were you not?” Clearly she had done her homework, although you didn’t like the way she twisted the situation inaccurately.

“I was on medical leave from field work, I still assisted remotely from Quantico and retained all other privileges.”

“Caused by Agent Reid’s arrest?”

“Caused by pre-existing mental health conditions that I’ve been treating since before I joined the BAU. My leave was temporary to help get it under control after the stress of Doctor Reid’s false arrest.”

She was quiet for a minute as you shuffled to the next file. You hoped that she would start asking about the case before you lost your temper, your secret mission would be compromised if you couldn’t keep your head down about it. Her next statement didn’t surprise you, though it came from left field.

“You do know that interpersonal relationships within a Unit are against Bureau policy.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re implying,” you put down the file to finally square up to Barnes. She had seen your file, you knew that much, but you were now doubting how much she had actually read into it.

“Are you and Agent Reid romantically involved?”

“Doctor Reid is my best friend. Last time I checked there was nothing in Bureau policy that didn’t allow that. I don’t appreciate you speculating about my personal relationships when they’re clearly not relevant to this case.”

Questioning your loyalty to the team was one thing, but attacking the most pure thing in your life was going too far.

“What is relevant to this case then, Agent? Your skills must be more useful elsewhere than sitting in a conference room looking at photos. Perhaps a transfer to a tactical unit would be more beneficial to the Bureau?” She finally pushed in a direction you were expecting.

“I would think that the Bureau would be more interested in well rounded agents instead of one trick ponies. I’m building my skillset here, rather than getting stuck in a rut doing tactical work.” It wasn’t completely the truth, just last year you had talked with Spencer about the possibility of you transferring to the Hostage Rescue Team. A tactical position would make sense, considering your strengths, but you had found such an unlikely home at the BAU that leaving was out of the question.  

“You’ve been building your skills here for almost a decade. Why do you think Agent Prentiss was promoted to Unit Chief over you?”

“She was the right choice. She has seniority, as well as a more rounded viewpoint from her other assignments. I trust Emily Prentiss wholeheartedly.”

Just like Matt had predicted, Barnes was trying to pit you against your team, “what about Agent Jareau? You’ve been a profiler longer than she has, do you know why I promoted her above you?”

It was her mistake, honestly. Of all the people who she could try to turn against the BAU, you weren’t a good choice. Instead of falling into her trap, you doubled down, “she’s been with the team longer than I have. Knowing how the team works is just as important as knowing how to profile if you want to do this job right. I fully support JJ as Unit Chief, but that’s not why you picked her, is it?”

“It is not.” You waited for her to elaborate, but instead she left the conference room to talk to Matt. As soon as she left your phone was at your ear calling Spencer.

“She had the nerve to ask me if I was romantically involved with you,” you hissed as soon as he answered. You heard Emily laugh on the other end of the line.

“What’s happening with the rest of the team?” Spencer spoke up.

“She’s trying to push us all out, but keeps denying it. We’re closing in on this case, but she’s stepping on our toes all over the place. She wants to make this a quick close but honestly she’s only making it harder for us to profile this guy. How’s it going on your end?”

There was a pause, which you assumed was caused by Spencer taking you off of speaker and stepping out of the room.

“She’s trying to leave. She said someone had to take the fall for what happened with the Truthers-“

“You’re not letting her, right? Nobody needs to take the fall for what happened, where did she get that idea?”

“Barnes, I guess. I’ll keep working here, keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Ok, good luck.”

Doing what you were doing proved harder than you thought. Barnes stepped completely out of line during the validation strategy, getting the unsub killed when Tara and Luke were completely capable of talking him down. You were fuming but knew you needed to keep your head down as to not blow your cover with Spencer, so instead you tacked yourself to Luke’s side with the knowledge that he would tell you if you were about to do something stupid.

It was the right call, because JJ tore into Barnes on the jet and you knew you didn’t have the authority to add on to it. It felt like a small victory, until Barnes met you all in the office right before you were about to head over to O’Keefe’s.

“Agents Prentiss, your suspension is lifted. You will be reassigned within the Bureau, your new post has yet to be determined. Agent Lewis, you will also be reassigned. Agent (y/l/n), you are being reassigned to lead a SWAT team in the city, congratulations on the promotion. Agent Reid, you will be a full time professor with our exchange program. Agent Rossi, the FBI deeply appreciates your service and the Director wishes you nothing but the best in your retirement. Agent Simmons, Agent Alvez, you will remain here at the BAU. Garcia, your loyalty to the team is appreciated but it feels like a fresh start in a different department would be best.”

She made it seem like your reassignment was a good thing, but that was far from the truth.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer answered his door faster than you thought he would, eyes narrowing behind his glasses when he saw your disheveled state a few weeks later.

“I’m losing it. I’m going to get my whole team killed. I can’t keep doing this,” you spilled before you were even able to step into Spencer’s apartment.

“Here,” Spencer led you to his couch and pressed a hot cup of tea into your hands, “take a deep breath, you’re here with me. Did you just get off of a case?”

“Yeah, a bank robbery downtown. We locked it down but the whole time I was thinking about how it could have gone wrong.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, instead letting you sip tea and breathe for a minute.

“When Barnes reassigned me I thought her goal was to give me a promotion so I wouldn’t want to come back to the BAU.”

“It was, she knows you’re an incredible agent. Any unit is lucky to have you.”

“What if it was to break me though? She’s read my file, she knows my episodes have been more frequent since you were arrested in Mexico. Did you hear about the school shooting that happened last week?”

Spencer nodded.

“I was there, Spence. I was there. And the whole time I was leading the team through the hallways getting kids out I kept thinking about Jack, and Henry, Michael, and Hank. How they could be in that school, how there were already kids in that school that I hadn’t saved. I couldn’t save them.

“When I first started out at the Academy my peers all told me I would head up SWAT one day. I thought it was what I wanted until I joined the BAU. You even said I’d do well on a tactical team a year ago, so I trusted the process and that we’d get back at Barnes but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep having panic attacks after every case. It’s not fair to my team, someone’s going to get killed and it’s going to be my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s Barnes’. Why don’t you take a couple of days off and sit in on my lectures? You can even guest speak if you want, I scheduled an extra day in the syllabus in case I needed to go over any material again but I don’t need to use it.”

“You’re too good at this, Spence. Where’s your mom?” You looked around his small apartment, already starting to feel better.

“She’s in the bedroom resting. She’s liked having me home so much, although she asks me almost every day when you’re coming to visit,” he laughed.

“I’m sorry, I feel like I’m at work now more than when we were in the BAU. I have a newfound respect for every time I’ve called in SWAT in the past nine years,” you joked.

The comfortable silence that fell between you as you finished the drink in your hand was cut short by Spencer’s phone ringing.

“Doctor Reid,” he answered, “Hi Luke, what’s up?”

Your eyebrows smashed together, listening closely to the half of the conversation you were able to hear.

“Don’t bother, they’re with me. We’ll meet you there. Bye,” he hung up and turned to you with a slight frown.

“They have a case that they want us to look at. Barnes won’t approve it, we’re meeting at Emily’s.”

“A secret team meeting?” you stood up excitedly, unable to stop the grin spreading on your face, “let’s go.”

“Hey Spence?” you asked as he got into your car, a small detail of your conversation occurring to you.

“Hmm?” he clicked his seatbelt.

“You didn’t know I was coming over. The tea that you gave me… you made it for yourself, didn’t you?”

Spencer smiled bashfully, “you needed it more than I did.”

“The world doesn’t deserve you, Spencer Reid,” you sighed, putting the car in drive.

Galaxy Taglist: @kermitsaysgayrights @niallthedancingharry @shadyladyperfection @thatsonezesty13 @lexshead @ceeellewrites @howdycharlie @girlycakepops @fantastic-fans @canimarrypizzaornah @daisyflower138 @dyingrexx @taylormobley @tj-drinks-tea 

[queentargary3n]

blessings

SasuSaku month 2020 Day 17 

Reincarnation AU  - Police Officer Sasuke AU

There isn’t a single day of his life that Uchiha Sasuke isn’t thankful for his life. For his mother’s gentle smile and kind nature, for his father’s silent praises, for his brother’s company and support. He’s even grateful for his loud mouthed, blond, best friend, who annoys him most of the time, but has his back when he needs it the most. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve such great people in his life.

At 24, having graduated college, and finished training in the police academy, he sets up for a bright career as a police officer and hopes to make detective before he is 30.

So, he goes to work every day, knowing he is making a change. Watching over the people he grew up with, protecting his beloved town, and actually doing something about the crime that has begun to infest it.

Sasuke knows his life is good, he was born in a good family, went to a top tier university, he never lacked for anything. He knows that having his family, being able to afford his own place, buy a new car, and work in something he actually likes is a luxury many don’t actually have.

But even as he counts his blessings every day, he can’t escape the feeling that he is missing something. Like there is a hole inside of him, he can’t seem to fill with anything.

He doesn’t remember when his nightmares started, perhaps he’s always had them. Sometimes it’s the bloody corpses of his parents that terrorize him during the night, the sadness of his brother’s eyes, as he looks at him from afar, eyes shining red and spinning unnaturally. Other nights it’s a white-faced man, with snake-like features that hunts him, forcing him to drink potions that taste horrible and burn down his throat, telling him that they will make him stronger. On other nights he dreams of facing gigantic humanoid creatures, dead bodies littering the ground he steps on.

But some nights, he dreams of pink cherry blossom hair and green eyes. The spring girl, as he calls her, cries behind him, begging him not to leave, or stands in front of him as one of his hands reaches for her neck and the other holds lightning, readying to electrocute her, he assumes.

Not every dream is violent with the spring girl, sometimes it’s just him and her. She hugs him or holds his hand as they look over magnificent vistas he’s never actually seen in real life. Sometimes they are children, sometimes they are grown, sometimes he taps his fingers to a strange diamond tattoo on her forehead and she blushes. Sometimes he kisses her and makes love to her. He wakes up to a feeling of sadness and tears rolling down his eyes. He doesn’t know who the girl with the cherry blossom hair is, or why is she a constant in his dreams, but the dreams bring him to tears he’s not one to usually shed. He can never shake the feeling that there is someone out there in the world, waiting for him.

On the day of his annual mental evaluation he is very concerned. He always seems to be expecting something to happen. Someone to attack him or his family. He has so much fear over losing it all, it causes him anxiety and panic attacks in the most unexpected times. He’s afraid the new department psychologist will find out and deemed him unfit for service.

It’s unnerving, feeling this way, because in reality what does he even know about pain? He’s never seen blood; he’s never even had to fire his gun on the job, what could possibly be the explanation for his nightmares? He wonders.

Itachi, who’s on the department of youth and family services, always tells him that is not how mental illnesses work, his anxiety has nothing to do with how good his life is or how lucky he is, and that he should never dismiss his own struggles or be comparing his suffering to others.

Sasuke understands but doesn’t actually believe it.

“I think you should be honest with the psychologist” He tells Sasuke, even if they take you off duty Itachi thinks, but he leaves it unsaid.

“I’m not going to tell her anything she doesn’t ask me… It’s not like having bad dreams makes me unfit for work” Sasuke responds.

“Maybe you should go see my psychic” Izumi chirps in from the doorway to Itachi’s office. “I wasn’t eavesdropping I promise! I was just coming to take my boyfriend out to lunch and I just happen to overhear”

Sasuke only glares at her, he doesn’t like anyone meddling in this, it feels too personal to share with his soon-to-be-but-not-quite-yet-sister-in-law. Itachi gives him an apologetic look on her behalf but says nothing.

“Still those dreams huh? She has really interesting ideas about those! Do you believe in reincarnation?” She asks him.

“That you believe all that craps she sells you, tells me so much, you’re crazy for starters” Sasuke tells her, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“No but hear me out!” Izumi tells him, ignoring his previous comment. “Like, our dreams don’t just make things up, right? You have to have seen those things somewhere, like that girl you keep dreaming about, you met her somewhere, your brain didn’t just invent her, but the circumstances you dream her in don’t match your life, right? Maybe you met in another life! And my psychic can tell you all about that!” she looks in her massive handbag and produces a presentation card that Sasuke takes, out of politeness, but doesn’t bother to look at.

Sasuke doesn’t even believe in that sort of thing, his beliefs always been on the more secular side of things, but even if there is a remote chance he might have lived another life before, where he saw wars, and monsters, and his parents death, he sure as hell doesn’t want to know about it.

So, he goes about his day, entirely forgetting the non-sense Izumi was blabbing on about. He goes to lunch with Naruto, ramen again unsurprisingly, makes a visit to a home for a noise complaint, files his paperwork, and tries to go home early for a change.

He attempted to postpone his psych evaluation as much as he could, that is, until his father, the head of the police department catches him on his way out, and orders him to medical immediately so he can get it over with.

“Go on, you know its protocol, she’s there now” His father chastises.

Sasuke is irritated to no end, but he still obediently makes his way to the new psychologist’s office in the back of the building.

Just keep it simple, don’t elaborate, it’ll be fine, he thinks to himself.

The door to the psychologist’s office is open, so Sasuke stands in the entrance and knocks on the door to announce his arrival. The space is completely littered with boxes and mountains of papers, stacked on top of another and covering the desk in its entirety, so much so that he can’t even see the person seating behind it.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m new, I’m still getting everything settled! Are you here for an eval? Did I get your file? Where are my files!? What’s your name?” She says in a rapid succession.

He stays quiet, so she can gather herself, and takes a seat in front of her crowded desk, and it isn’t until she moves the two gigantic boxes of documents in front of them that he is able to see her.

He sits complete frozen, utterly speechless upon setting eyes on her. Because the person seating in front of him now, is unbelievably and irrevocably the Spring girl.

The shiny pink hair, wide emerald colored eyes and a blushing face he’d never mistake for anyone else’s are facing him now, with a look of surprise on it.

And he is sure his face mirrors hers, especially since the next thing she says to him, is an almost whispered, “Sasuke-kun….”

“I can’t believe this…” She mumbles and looks like she’s about to jump on him, but the look on his face stops her. “Do you… am… do you know who I am?” She asks, a hint of hope sparkling in her eyes.

“The new psychologist… about to perform my yearly eval?…” He responds, unsure of himself.

He can see the deflated expression and disappointment spreading thought her. “Right… I haven’t seen your file… ahem sorry… I think we are going to have to postpone this… maybe someone else can do your evaluations tomorrow, I apologize” She tells him, in a more composed and professional tone.

She stands and grabs a small purse from one of the drawers and tries to make a quick exit.

Sasuke stares at her unable to say anything. He observes every detail he can about her, every slender curve of her body, the way her neat short hair hangs on her delicate neck, and he is suddenly overcome with the image of her, wearing a red tunic instead of the sensible suit, a red and white fan crest in the center of her back.

His hand moves almost of its own accord and grabs her tiny wrist to prevent her from leaving, and she turns to look at him, green eyes wide and full of emotions he’s not able to understand.

“I know you from somewhere” He says, in a statement not a question.

“Do you?  I don’t think so, sorry” She responds and tries to shake his hold on her wrist.

“You said you hadn’t seen my file; how did you know my name?” Sasuke asks her, in the demanding voice she remembers so well.

“I… just… ahem… I don’t….”

“What are you hiding?”

“Do you remember something… anything… about me?” She asks, the adorable blush from earlier spreading through her face again.

Sasuke isn’t sure what she means, but now that she’s facing him, he becomes completely lost in her eyes, his instincts screaming at him to hold her, and never let go. “Who are you?” He asks. Because saying, yeah, I remember you from a dream sounds entirely too stupid to mention.

The moment feels as if suspended from time, the atmosphere too suffocating, he’s afraid of even closing his eyes, sure that the moment he reopens them, she’d be gone like every dream he’s ever had.

“My name is Sakura” she says, and her name sounds like music to his ears. “This is going to sound really strange, and possibly unprofessional, but do you want to go get a drink?” She says, biting her lower lip and taking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

He only nods his head yes and releases her hand. “Just… how do I know you?” He whispers.

She giggles in response, her face more assertive than before. “It’s a long story Sasuke-kun… maybe… I’ll tell you later” She says, poking his forehead with two fingers before grabbing his hand and pulling him to follow.

He doesn’t know anything about the strange girl with the cherry blossom pink hair other than her name, still he would follow her anywhere. He can’t help but to feel his blessings are finally complete.

[ladylynse]

Revision: Maddie can’t deny it any longer. If ectoplasm can become blood, there’s more to this story than she ever realized.

Part 4 [FF | AO3]

(Previous)

-|-

“I tried tracking Danny’s cell,” Tucker said, “but he must’ve figured Vlad would do that and finally turned it off. Or it died. You know he never remembers to charge the thing.”

“I’ll head to Dora’s so you can stay out of the dead zone,” Sam said. “If you don’t want to challenge Skulker to see who can find Jack or Danny first, then head straight to Frostbite. That’s probably where Danny went. Dora can drop me off and pick up Poindexter and maybe Johnny 13 and Kitty if she can swing it.”

“Do you have extra Fenton Phones?” Jazz, being careful as always. Taking the lead, as she’d asked. Maddie stood back, holding the jet packs while the kids went over the plan. She’d checked everything over three times, knew these would work, but—

“Always,” chorused Danny’s best friends in unison.

They’d done this before.

They must have done this so many times before.

How could she and Jack have never noticed?

“Be mindful of the power supply on your jet packs,” Maddie said, hardly believing that she was handing them to two fourteen-year-olds and being perfectly okay with letting them go into the Ghost Zone on their own, virtually unprotected. “They should be able to draw on the ambient ecto-energy within the Ghost Zone, but you will have to stop somewhere to allow it to recharge or risk being stranded.”

“Don’t worry. We got this, Mrs. F,” promised Tucker as he shrugged on his pack. Sam was already tightening the safety straps on hers. Perhaps she hadn’t needed to tell them as much about these as they had; it might not be the first time they’d used this particular invention. “We’ll let you know if we find them. Any of them.”

“We’ll even ask Clockwork,” Sam put in. “I don’t think he’ll tell us anything, but we’ll try. Assuming we can actually find him and he’s not just pretending he’s not home again.”

Maddie didn’t know the names of half the ghosts they mentioned, let alone have any concept of where in the Ghost Zone they could be found.

She nodded anyway, pretending. Pretending to understand. Pretending to be strong. Pretending that this didn’t feel as wrong as it did, letting these kids do what she could not. Adults were supposed to protect children, and she felt like she was asking them to run into fire for her sake.

But they’d tread this path before, gone this way far more often than she, and were much wiser than her for it. She had to trust their judgement. They knew better than she did. They knew more than she did. It was as simple as that.

And if it meant protecting Jack and having a chance of finding Danny and Danielle….

“Thank you.” She wouldn’t be able to say it enough. “Good luck.”

The two flashed her grins and thumbs up, all signs of their earlier tiredness gone by now. They’d been given a mission, and they were ready for it. More than. She waved as they raced each other to the portal and dove into the Ghost Zone.

“You don’t have to pretend,” Jazz said softly. “Not with me, anyway.”

She had to. She had to, or she’d be curled up on the floor of the lab again, crying until she had no more tears. She couldn’t give up on this semblance of sanity. If she let her guard down, if she allowed herself to remember exactly what she’d done and who she’d done it to and—

Jazz walked over and hugged her, and Maddie felt her resolve crumbling.

“We’ll get through this,” Jazz reassured her, tightening her hug. “I know what I said earlier, but Dad will come back safe, and we’ll find Danny and Danielle, and then we’ll figure things out from there. This isn’t going to ruin us.”

It might have already, and she had no way of knowing.

Because she’d never listened.

Jazz waited a moment more before pulling away and stepping back. “Did you have any luck with the Booo-merang?”

“I reassembled it,” Maddie whispered, “and fed it the copy of Phantom’s ecto-signature that we had on file.” She wasn’t sure if it was perfect. The Booo-merang was more Jack’s invention than hers, and she knew he’d made tweaks that weren’t in the blueprints. She’d done what she could. If Vlad—

“We can tie a note to it,” Jazz said as she took out her hairband, “so that Danny knows it’s safe to come home even if we lose sight of it. I’ve done that before. It will get to him eventually.” She moved to the computer desk to get a pen and paper and began to write. After a few moments, she looked back up at Maddie. “You should write something, too. So Danny knows he can trust my word.”

Maddie moved slowly, finally reaching out to take the pen from her daughter with a shaking hand. She imagined accusations—accusations she deserved—and couldn’t think of the right words to say. What could she write to convey what she felt? The depth of the wrong she’d done?

I’m sorry, she wrote. It looked trite. False. I hurt you both. It was an understatement, but at least it was an acknowledgement. I want to do better. She couldn’t ask for forgiveness, not without doing anything, and even then…. Even then, she might not get it. She wasn’t sure she’d deserve it if she did. Please let me try. She could imagine an offer of help being turned back on her, Danny spitting that they didn’t need her kind of help, but…. But she’d rather that than write a plea that they come home and have him tell her this wasn’t home for him anymore and wouldn’t ever be again.

She had always thought she hunted monsters.

She hadn’t realized when she’d become one.

Jazz gently nudged her hand aside and slid the paper away, neatly folding and then securing it to the Booo-merang.

“What if he doesn’t want to come back?” Maddie asked. “What if he gets our note and ignores it?”

“He won’t ignore it forever, even if he doesn’t act on it right away.” Jazz turned the device on, and Maddie saw the light at its head begin to blink. “That’s not who Danny is.” She flashed a grin. “Are you ready?”

She wasn’t remotely ready, but there wasn’t time for her to be mentally prepared for all that this would entail. “We have no way to follow it if it goes into the Ghost Zone,” she said, “and even if we try to follow in the Fenton Ops Centre, we’ll still need to be able to keep it in sight for that.”

“Which we can. Dad added that tracking feature, remember? We’ll link it to the Booo-merang. Just like the Spectre Speeder. And if it goes into the Ghost Zone, we can put Sam or Tucker onto it.”

Maddie let out a breath. “Okay.” She couldn’t afford to argue. She didn’t know enough to argue.

Jazz drew back her arm and threw the Booo-merang. It spun, making a quick loop of the lab.

And then it made a second loop of the lab.

And a third loop.

A lazy fourth.

And then it crashed into the dissection table, skittering across it before falling to the floor.

Something was squeezing the breath from Maddie’s lungs, and she couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t do anything. She just watched as Jazz frowned and walked over to the device. She checked it over and tried tossing it again.

This time, it made two and a half loops before catching on one of their shelving units. Maddie winced as glassware shattered. Jazz fetched a broom and dustpan, sweeping up the pieces while Maddie watched in silence. As Jazz dumped the remains into the shards discard bin, Maddie summoned the strength to walk over and pick up the Booo-merang from where Jazz had placed it on the top of the workbench.

“What’s wrong with it?” Jazz asked softly when she was finished.

Maddie looked at the Booo-merang’s blinking light. “Nothing,” she whispered. “The copy of Phantom’s ecto-signature just isn’t sufficient.”

Jazz furrowed her brow and leaned closer, though Maddie knew there was nothing more to be seen. “What do you mean?”

“Ecto-signatures aren’t like fingerprints; they don’t stay the same unless some change is forced upon them. They change slightly over time naturally, to reflect the changes within each ghost.”

“But it’s always locked onto Danny. That’s never been a problem before.”

“That’s why it hasn’t been a problem. Because it could update its signature to evolve its records. Now, it’s been entirely reset, and the ecto-signature I gave it is just too different to be recognizable as the same one Danny currently has. I….” So much must have happened to cause that change, and she’d been blind to all of it. “I’m sorry. This isn’t going to work.”

Jazz huffed. “It’ll work,” she said, snatching up the Booo-merang and hugging it to her body with one protective arm. “We’ll just have to get the ecto-signature from Vlad.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Vlad. Like I said, he’s obsessed with Danny. Trust me, he’ll have a recent copy of Danny’s ecto-signature.”

“So you wanted to shoot him earlier, and now you want to work with him?”

“Oh, I still want to shoot him. Taking a blast from an ecto-gun in human form won’t do as much damage as when he’s in ghost mode, but it’ll still hurt.”

Human form. Ghost mode. It was jarring to hear Jazz talk about molecular fusion so offhandedly, to the point that she could mention it like that. She must have discovered and accepted this idea ages ago. And Danny—

“But whether I like it or not, it looks like we need him. At least until we hear from Sam and Tucker.”

Maddie took a slow breath. The idea of working with Vlad…. It didn’t sit well with her now that she knew the truth. There was too much of Plasmius in Vlad. He wasn’t the same person she’d known in college. She had to stop thinking of him as such. “I don’t think I can pretend to be ignorant of everything you’ve told me.”

“You don’t need to. Vlad would probably see through an act anyway. He won’t be happy that I’ve told you everything, but he won’t be surprised after what’s happened. He’ll take what he can get.”

Maddie frowned and glanced at her daughter. “Meaning?”

“Meaning this would still give him the opportunity to spend time with you, and that might be enough bargaining power.” Jazz hesitated. “I know that sounds bad. It is bad. I just…. I don’t know if we can afford to wait for Sam and Tucker. Vlad definitely won’t be waiting. And whatever Skulker says, he’s really not the Ghost Zone’s Greatest Hunter. He’s not going to be a better option when it comes to asking for help. Vlad might have him looking already anyway.”

Skulker. The ghost that used a mechanical exoskeleton. She’d seen Phantom—and Danny?—take it down multiple times. It made her want to question Jazz more about all of this, about halfas, about the consequences of which she was currently aware, but there wasn’t time. She couldn’t afford to distract herself that way. Not when Danny…. Not when Danielle….

“All right. Let’s go.” She was afraid that if she didn’t commit, she’d find a way to talk herself out of going. Convince herself that they could find another way, whatever Jazz thought. The idea that Plasmius might have convinced Vlad to—

But Jazz was right. Different, albeit just as unscrupulous, options were out there to explain Danielle and her true relationship to the Fenton family. And Maddie wasn’t in a position to point fingers when it came to unscrupulous behaviour. Not after what she’d done.

You don’t understand.

She was convinced she’d never forget the cries.

I’m not just a ghost.

She didn’t deserve to forget.

I’m human, too.

She couldn’t just pretend this hadn’t happened, that she hadn’t done what she had. In order to do better, she had to remember. She couldn’t allow herself to fall into old patterns and risk repeating the same mistakes, even unintentionally. She wouldn’t be able to ease her guilt right away, but maybe, with time, with enough changes, with enough effort, she could…. She could accept what she’d done, if not forgive herself entirely. She didn’t think she’d be able to forgive herself unless the others forgave her, and they….

They had good reason not to.

She could ask for it, but she knew very well she might not receive it. That hurt, too, just thinking about it, but—

“Come on,” Jazz said, wrapping her free arm around Maddie and steering her towards the stairs, “I’ll drive. I left a note on the fudge in case Dad comes back before we do. He’ll see it there.”

-|-

Vlad had not intended to come back after a quick change of clothes, whatever he’d tried to make it sound like. Maddie realized that now. Still, it only made standing on Vlad’s stoop this early in the morning even worse.

When the door finally opened, Vlad himself was there to greet them, looking like he’d recently stepped from the shower. “Ah, Maddie, how delightful. And Jasmine. I hadn’t quite made myself presentable for—”

“You can drop the act,” Jazz said as she elbowed her way past him. “I told Mom everything.”

Vlad raised his eyebrows. “Everything about what?”

“Phantom and Plasmius,” Maddie whispered. She had to force herself to meet Vlad’s eyes, and she saw motions flicker across his face until his features settled into a careful mask. Practiced. Polite. The same one he used to wear while convincing the higher-ups at the university that they should be allowed funding and space for their projects.

“Ah.”

He didn’t say any more. He simply stepped aside and let her in.

“We need a copy of Danny’s ecto-signature,” Jazz said. “I know you have one, so don’t bother denying it.”

“Showing your hand so early?”

Jazz rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at Maddie. Vlad glanced in her direction as well and then sighed. “I am doing what I can to search for Daniel. Whatever your implications, my involvement isn’t a farce.”

“Then prove it by giving us a copy of Danny’s ecto-signature. You ruined ours, so if it was purely accidental and not on purpose, what’s the harm?”

“Jazz,” Maddie said, a warning in her tone. They could only push Vlad so far. They were still asking for his help.

And she didn’t particularly want to meet Plasmius right now.

It…. She couldn’t see him. She’d thought she would, now that she knew. She’d thought there would be something behind Vlad’s eyes that she’d be able to identify, some little piece of Plasmius. Not because she doubted the truth of Jazz’s words, she didn’t; rather, she wanted to think that she could pick apart which being was more in control of Vlad, Plasmius or one of her former friends.

But all she saw was Vlad.

The same Vlad who’d stood up for her and Jack when they’d made their first group presentation on the paranormal. The same Vlad who’d stayed up late with her to pore over Jack’s last-minute changes to their blueprints. The same Vlad they’d met again at the reunion and seen so frequently since.

“Surely you know I would hardly impede your investigation when it came to finding the little badger—”

“Which is why you deliberately destroyed the Booo-merang?”

“—but I’m afraid I really don’t have a recent copy of Daniel’s ecto-signature. He, ah, deleted my files just last week.”

Jazz narrowed her eyes. “Fine,” she spat. “Say I believe that. Say you really don’t have a copy of Danny’s ecto-signature. Why ruin ours?”

“I never intended to ruin it. I merely wanted to try to obtain a copy of it for myself.”

Jazz pursed her lips and met Maddie’s eyes. Maddie knew that long-suffering look on Jazz’s face. It was the one she made when she was barely restraining herself from parroting back Danny’s words in a mocking tone, trying to convince herself that she was an adult and above such childishness. Jazz was quite mature for her age, but she was still a teenager. Even…even if she knew as much about the world—and the Ghost Zone—as she did.

“I’m sure I could be of help in other ways. If Maddie and I—”

“You’re not getting hours of alone time with my mom,” Jazz interrupted. “What about Danielle’s ecto-signature?”

“You really believe Daniel would allow me to keep that?”

Jazz’s smile was sudden and triumphant. “Then you admit it. You know who she is.”

“She’s a ghost who’s passed through this town,” countered Vlad. “Whatever you and Daniel think, I do try to protect Amity Park. Keeping tabs on ghostly activity is merely part of that.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Vlad,” Maddie said softly, “please. Even if you don’t think it’s important, anything you could tell us would be appreciated. I’d never seen that ghost before, and I know Jack would have told me if he’d had an encounter with a ghost so like Phantom.”

“My dearest Maddie, I can assure you that I harbour no ill will toward Daniel. I want to see him back with us as much as anything.” Vlad spread his hands. “I simply do not have the resources Jasmine thinks—”

“Shut it, Plasmius. We’re not buying that you’re the good guy. If you won’t give me the copy of the ecto-signature, I’ll find it myself.” Jazz turned and stalked away. Vlad, surprisingly, let her.

Or was it Plasmius who had? That’s what she’d called him, but Maddie still couldn’t—

“I’ll make tea,” Vlad said, putting his arm around Maddie and steering her towards what she knew was the kitchen. She managed not to flinch at his touch. Any other night before this, before knowing, she would have been so grateful for the support, but now— “Or coffee, if you’d prefer. We could do with something right now, I daresay. We’ll catch up with Jasmine in a few minutes. I change my security codes daily.”

“So it’s all…true,” Maddie managed. “You and Plasmius—”

“We really don’t need to talk about such things right now.”

Of course they did. How could they not? Vlad and Plasmius. Because of the proto-portal accident. It had to be. Months of hospitalization, bankrupt at the end of it, dropping out of college and—

And turning around and making millions. Billions.

Vlad had been skilled, but not—

“Please,” she repeated. “Please, just…. It’s really true? You and Plasmius? Like Danny and Phantom? And…and Danielle?”

Silence.

Vlad’s steady steps never faltered. She was desperately trying to think of a way to broach the conversation again. She didn’t want to let it go, to let it die, to let it lie between them unspoken. She couldn’t. Not after what she’d done with Danny. And….

It’s not that she felt comfortable with Vlad. After what Jazz had told her, she couldn’t, and it made her realize that she hadn’t been wholly comfortable with him before that, either. She’d wanted to think that maybe it was just her reacting to Plasmius’s presence, but since she’d realized that she couldn’t tell who was in control—

She wished Jack were here.

She wished he hadn’t gone to search the Ghost Zone alone, but she wasn’t sure there had been another choice. If it hadn’t been him, it would have been her, and he never would have let her go alone. But one of them needed to stay on this side. If Danny decided to call—

Maybe they shouldn’t have left the house.

She could have called someone to stay while she and Jazz came here. Or she should have come by herself. In case Danny phoned. He had their cell phone numbers, of course, but she wasn’t sure how many of those numbers he had memorized; she knew he knew the home phone, but if his cell phone really was dead—

“Every situation is different,” Vlad said at last. He led her into the kitchen and left her to lean against a counter while he busiest himself with preparations. There was no table to be had in here, oh no. Counters, islands, workspaces of all sorts, but nothing small and cozy, nothing intended for anyone to sit down and have a bite to eat or something to drink. This was a kitchen meant to be fully staffed, and—

It occurred to her that she had never seen Vlad’s butler.

Or a maid.

Or any staff, really.

They were always mentioned, and she knew he must have someone—he could hardly keep a place this large clean by himself on top of his mayoral duties—but it always seemed to be their day off whenever she came by.

She only ever saw Vlad.

“What…what do you mean?”

“I doubt the girl is quite like the others.”

“Her name is Danielle.”

“Yes.” His words were a whisper. “It is.” He turned around and presented her with a warm cup of— Coffee, by the look and smell of it. Black.

She took a hesitant sip.

He’d sweetened it with sugar.

He remembered how she drank her coffee, even after all these years.

“I—” Vlad paused. “Daniel and I, our circumstances aren’t quite the same.”

He was admitting it, then. She hadn’t thought he would after his earlier denials. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or terrified. A denial she could have spun into truth for herself, at least for a time. Long enough for her to find some steady ground to stand on. Long enough to make sure she wouldn’t have her feet knocked from beneath her again.

“How do you know?” If she didn’t ask, if she kept talking, she’d lose the opportunity entirely, and she knew she couldn’t afford that.

“I’ve spoken with her. The ghost girl. She’s come to me for help in the past. As I daresay you’ve realized, she’s as much girl as she is ghost.”

I’m human, too.

“And you and Plasmius—”

“I’m stable. Daniel is stable. Poor Danielle is not. Or she wasn’t, the last time I had her in my lab.”

“You still have a lab, then?”

Vlad smiled. “Oh, Maddie, I could never give it up. It reminds me too much of the treasured moments I used to spend with you.”

“And Jack,” she added pointedly, remembering Jazz’s words. Vlad has an unhealthy obsession with you.

“Yes, of course.”

The words came quickly, smoothly, but she wasn’t sure they were honest. How could she? Jazz hadn’t had the slightest bit of doubt in her voice when she’d said Vlad hated Jack. Hated. It was such a strong word. Maddie hadn’t noticed anything herself, but she’d never looked for it, either. Jack’s enthusiasm about his friendship for Vlad had always been her lens for their relationship, and Vlad had always been friendly towards her.

But recent experience had certainly taught her that there was so much she could miss—even from people close to her. If she’d never realized the truth of Danny and Phantom, she hadn’t much hope of seeing past the façade Vlad put up around her.

Maddie took another sip of the coffee, buying time to collect her scrambled thoughts. “And Plasmius doesn’t…hinder you?”

“Far from it.” Vlad flashed her a smile she could no longer call genuine. “The situation has grown on me, and I do find ways to make the best of it.”

How much was the honest truth and how much was a carefully scripted truth? Perhaps things had changed, but Vlad had rarely told direct lies in their college years, even little white ones. He’d delighted in misdirection and obfuscation. He had always been quite proud when he’d managed to convince someone of something false, telling perfect truths riddled with oft-unseen holes where he’d lied by omission. It was never in his papers, of course—he’d been far too credible for that and wouldn’t dare risk being accused of falsifying results—but he had always loved a good verbal battle, to match wits with someone he considered worthy.

She’d seen him to do it so many times.

She wondered why she hadn’t thought she could be on the receiving end of it until now.

Best to change tack, then. It was unlikely that she could catch him off his guard—he clearly knew so much more of the situation than she, and how could he not?—but she had to try. She had to know. “Why does Jazz think you have a copy of Danny’s ecto-signature?”

“She is, no doubt, aware of the tracking I do, as is Daniel.”

“So when you say Danny destroyed your files—”

“I’ll admit I don’t think it was Daniel directly; it’s far more likely to be his friend Tucker’s work.”

Vlad said he kept tabs on ghosts to help him protect Amity Park, but Phantom fought those ghosts routinely. Phantom fought Plasmius routinely. Plasmius couldn’t be helping Vlad protect Amity Park—unless Phantom simply saw him as another ghost and acted accordingly? She still didn’t understand how much influence the ecto-entity had over the human host, but it would surely be greater when the ecto-entity was in control, and—

No. She couldn’t make assumptions. She had to stop doing that. She didn’t know how much was Vlad and how much was Plasmius, just as she wasn’t sure how much was Danny and how much was Phantom. The notes she and Jack had accumulated on both ghosts were surely wrong; they had never accounted for human ties, and that would skew their results terribly. They knew nothing. She knew nothing.

Which meant she couldn’t believe everything she was told, whether from Jazz or from Vlad. Each would have their biases, just as she had hers, and what they told her would be coloured accordingly. And there was always the chance that what they knew was wrong, even if they believed it to be true, just as she and Jack had been wrong.

Except….

Vlad was a primary source, and though Jazz’s knowledge was second-hand, it would all come from Danny. She didn’t want to mistrust either of them, but what they told her didn’t always line up, and—

Maddie set her coffee down on the counter and took a steadying breath. “May I speak with Plasmius?”

Vlad spluttered, losing his composure and nearly choking on his own cup of coffee. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’d like to speak with Plasmius. Is that possible?”

“I— Yes, of course it’s possible, but—”

“Then let me speak to him. Please.”

Vlad set his cup aside in favour of closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I should have realized you were taking this awfully well. I am sorry, Maddie. I didn’t doubt Jasmine when she’d said she told you everything—she’s no reason to pretend otherwise, blatant as she’s being—but I hadn’t realized that you didn’t yet understand.”

His words chilled her. “What do you mean?”

He opened his eyes to look at her. For the briefest instant, red replaced familiar blue before it was blinked away. She started and took a step back, only to hit the counter. Vlad looked resigned as he said, “You’re already speaking with Plasmius.”

(see more fics | next)

[novelnerdqueers]

Tell me to stay - Chapter 1

It’s been a while but we’re finally ready to start uploading this story. We’re planning on uploading a chapter twice a week (most likely one during the week and one during the weekend but don’t quote me on that). 

You can read it here (next chapter) or you can also follow it on AO3 (where we also have other stuff already there if you want to check that out) at this link : chapter 1

Chapter 1 :  Logan's new job

Roman had been working in the investigative police department for a long time. He liked to think he knew what he was doing. After all, he was the lead investigator in the CSI, he loved his job. As much as some decisions were the worst choices he'd ever made, he loved doing good to help people. Even if it meant bending the rules a little to find the real guilty people.

Logan was glad to finally get to work in the field. He had been working a few years for the CSI but had always been stuck behind a desk doing mainly paperwork, not that he minded the paperwork really. He would have stayed there if not that he wished he would be taken more seriously within the team.

He wanted to be able to offer valid input for cases without being brushed off as simply being a Sherlock Holmes enthusiast. So when a job opened up for the investigation department, Logan decided to take a chance and applied for it. Now he finally had his chance to make a difference, to set things right, the right way.

                                              …...............................

Logan was always a punctual person. He was even more so on this first day working in his new position. He arrived early to scope out the place. The office was simple enough, but had everything that they needed. Logan was directed to his desk and he started setting up his things. He organized the little he had for the moment and started mentally preparing for the day. As he surveyed the office, he couldn't help but notice the desk adjacent to his. Cluttered would have been an understatement. Logan knew that he could be a bit of a neat freak, but this desk was ridiculous. He was still staring at the desk in disbelief when the person whom it belonged to strode in and sat down. Oh no, Logan thought, what have I done...

Roman couldn't help but notice the neatly set up desk opposite his, but he knew better than to inspect the new in such an obvious way, so he ignored him. After a while, he started getting looks, peeks at what type of person he was, what his mannerisms were. He looked the man up and down every so often being very discreet, as he flipped through the case files, inspecting each one and scanning over it with trained eyes. He wasn't going to speak first, and he didn't intend to. Roman only made friends when he wanted to, he had to know the person first. Warm welcomes were not how you keep yourself safe, you had to be closed off.

Logan had heard of this investigator. Despite not being remotely interested in gossip, news travelled fast in the precinct. He felt like he was back in school in the nerd vs jock dynamic, and he was not pleased with that. Logan wondered if he should speak first, being the new guy and all. Then again shouldn't he be the one receiving the welcome? Despite his best efforts, Logan was not a people person, and he definitely wasn’t this type of people person. He looked around wondering what in the world he should do now. He had just gotten there so he didn't have anything to attempt to look busy.

Roman smirked, this guy was really doing this. He was sitting at his desk and occasionally he would make a face of distaste or sigh. He picked himself from the chair and walked out into the main office to get some more information on the case that piqued his interest the most. As he did this he casually glanced back and caught the confused half-glare on his new partner’s face. This was going to be great.

Logan hated that he probably looked like he didn't know what he was doing, even though it was completely true. Seeing the other guy get up and leave, Logan got even more nervous. Should he follow him?  That would look weird. Then again he couldn't wait around all day for something to happen. So he also walked out into the main office. The captain was there to greet them. "Officer Logan, all settled in I presume," the captain said. "And I see you've just met Officer Roman."

"Um well not exactly..." Logan started.

"Great," continued the captain." You two will be working together now, so Roman get settled on your case and get started, chop-chop."

Roman smiled at the captain. "I'm getting right to it, Jim, don't worry yourself too much." Roman then sauntered out, sitting back at his desk with a triumphant smirk. His boss didn't seem to like Logan too much, and to him, this was hilarious. It had taken Roman a while to settle, but he loved this department and intended to stay here. He had picked up a case file on a homicide case with next to no leads, it had everyone else stumped. The types of cases he loved were the ones no one else could figure out. He smirked lightly as Logan wandered back in, looking lost.

"Okay, so, could we properly introduce ourselves or are you going to stand there smirking at me all day?" Logan asked, feeling irked. He missed his old job already. He had known it would take a while to adapt, but he hadn't thought he was going to feel so miserable this early on. It really didn't help that he was paired with the all too well known, cocky and impulsive investigator. Logan wasn't the best at reading people, but he really didn't like the vibe he was getting from this guy.

Roman looked up and for the first time got a proper, full look at him. He would be lying to say he wasn't attractive, but that aside, he seemed just as tidy, as his desk suggested. He also had calculating, green eyes. He didn't think this was of interest, it was just an observation, nothing else.

"Sure, I'm Roman, and you're Logan right?" Roman was being witty and overconfident because he was terrified. He didn't like to work with people in general, especially ones he didn't know, he missed his old partner so much right now. "I hope you like to work hard, I don't appreciate it when I have to pick up people’s slack. Also, just a word of advice, be nice to me. It'll work in your favour." He handed Logan a case file and turned back to his computer. "Read this over for me, tell me what you think."

Logan took the case file from his hand with a frown. He didn't like arrogant people, and Roman definitely had the air of someone who thought way too highly of themself. He tried to clear his mind, putting aside his disdain for his new coworker and sat down, attempting to focus on the file he'd been given. There really wasn't much to go on, but Logan had a feeling this Roman personage already knew that and expected him to come up with something.

"So?" Roman asked with a hint of a smile, he was curious to see Logan's thought process, his way of thinking. "Any ideas?" Roman asked, angling his head to the left slightly as his eyes flitted from the casefile to Logan's face. This case was interesting, he already had three theories to look into. A girl had been found dead and Roman thought her case could be related to multiple other murder-homicides, as it fit with a potential serial killer Roman had yet to pin down. He thought it could possibly have been her brother and his friends as they had no appropriate alibi so he immediately looked into it. It could have also been a suicide, likely assisted or staged. He was buzzing, would Logan come to the same conclusions? 

Logan looked up, unsure whether this was a test or not. "Um..." Logan started. "Well there is something I don't get here." He was afraid to offer much input for the moment, he didn't want to look too stupid on his first day. Especially since something in this case just didn't add up. "It looks like the victim's clothes were changed, but I don't see any mention of that in these records."

Roman’s eyes widened at this, despite his initial skepticism of Logan he had to hand it to him that he’d made some decent observations.

 "I'm surprised you picked up on that. I think it has something to do with a cover-up, someone here, covering for-...well what's your input? Who did it, at first glance?" Roman quirked an eyebrow, his face still holding a certain judging look, but he at least seemed open to listen to Logan’s ideas.

Logan started feeling a tiny bit better, he hadn't made a complete fool of himself yet so he continued. "I.. I'm not sure... I mean a first of the obvious potential explanations is that she committed suicide, or was made to look like that. The brother and his friends sound pretty suspicious, that's for sure, but I'm guessing you already knew that." Logan scrunched his eyebrows trying to put his ideas into order, to connect any dots that hadn't been linked.

"Huh, interesting idea Logan, not bad. I'm thinking we should talk to her brother, bring him in and interview him, it would give us some great possible leads, maybe we should interview his friends too. It might give us a more clear idea of what happened." Roman commented at Logan rather than to him.

"I think that would be the smartest and most logical place to start at least." Logan couldn't believe that Roman could be even remotely impressed with anything he had said up until now, even despite the dismissive tone. "I see here in his friends, a certain Thomas, that I remember seeing recently in the archives at least 3 other times."

Roman smiled at him and walked out of the room, his hips swaying confidently as he walked. He could then be heard picking up the phone and speaking into it before having a quiet word with the captain. He then trailed his hands along one of the desks, leaning over and quickly saying something into one of their co-worker's ears before heading back to Logan. "The captain said he'll get someone on it."

"Okay, sounds good". Logan had to keep himself from staring. Roman exuded this charm that was irresistible to everyone, though Logan tried to convince himself he didn’t find himself even slightly impressed by it. "So what now?” Logan asked. “Should we be making a list of questions or..?" He pulled out a notepad and a pen to keep his hands busy. 

Roman stared into space for a second, making no sign to show he had heard him. Then, still staring off into space, he started speaking. "The interview should have structure, though if we over plan it, it'll be uncomfortable, obvious of what we're trying to do. We need to know, but make sure they don't know what we're doing, the balance is important." He sighed and turned to his computer, typing out something. "You can suggest some questions, maybe I’ll use them."

Logan stared down at the notepad he had put down on his desk. He was a little miffed at this point. The whole reason he left his other job was because he was tired of the condescending attitude he kept getting from everyone. If Roman wanted structure he was going to give him structure. He would leave the spontaneous aspect to Roman since he clearly knew more about it than Logan did. He started jotting down some potential questions and then tore another page away to write some notes of his own. He made a summary of the case details so that he could keep all the information in order.

                                               ..........................…..

About an hour passed and their captain walked in, announcing that they had to interview three of the friends. However, the other two and the girl’s brother had yet to be found. Roman waved for Logan to follow him as he walked out of the quiet room into the bustling larger section of the office. They headed towards the interrogation rooms, which were just past the holding cells where three teenage boys were standing at varying degrees of anger.

Roman rolled his eyes before he turned to them, eyeing each one, scanning their clothing, posture, body language. He needed something to go off. He then whispered to the officer on guard. "Bring me the one in the red hoodie, he looks a little unnerved." He then moved forward and waited as the boy was taken into the quiet interrogation room. He then followed in after and sat on the chair opposite the teenager, who was shrinking in on himself.

Logan was in the room opposite to the interrogation room watching Roman through the two-way glass, the captain standing next to him. "Take notes Logan," he said to the rookie. "Roman is one of our best guys." Logan rolled his eyes and watched as Roman questioned the young man. He had a way of alternating between bad cop and good cop, manipulating the situation to get the information he wanted. Logan noted down the answers they were getting, not much of which wasn't information they already knew, but he decided to write it all down nonetheless. 

Roman was done and soon the second teenager walked in. He got similar, but different stories from all of them and through body language, he could tell where the lies were. Once he was done with his questioning, he would have to look through Logan's notes and decipher a story. He walked out and into the room where Logan sat scribbling and finalizing his notes. Roman barely said anything after that, leaving as soon as he was off the clock without so much as a goodbye.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Safe inside myself with you // J x Lilith // comfort cuddles.

Summary: Life is hella stressful and you need a minute to think, to breathe, and, shit, you really need a hug. That’s it lmao that’s the fic.

A/N: Inspired by the fact that I desperately want a hug and written for @jokershyena​ omg ilyyyy~ <33 you work so hard and you do so much and your pack is extremely proud of you <333

HE LOOKS SO CUTE IN THIS GIF I WANNA RIOT OMG :((( PRETTIEST FERAL TRASH PANDA I’VE EVER SEEN <333

Word count: 2, 216.

You had always thrived in chaotic conditions but this was not what you had meant. Left, right and centre were responsibilities and duties cropping up; places to visit, papers to file, rules to remember for your job, various arrangements to make, not to mention the things which you had to do for yourself and in your own home... Oh, but you were so exhausted from trying to get everything done in the time that you had. The thoughts in your head were so loud, buzzing around inside your mind like angry wasps, and yet somehow was your mind calm and still as you balanced on the edge of some kind of overload.

Everything was somehow too much and yet not enough all at once and you were almost dizzy from even thinking about everything that you had to deal with on a daily basis. Spring allergies, academic arrangements, your job, and not to mention trying to keep up with J and his whereabouts on any given day... by the time you finally bedded down to get a few hours of sleep every night were you too tired to even attend to your own mental health. You were too busy for yourself and it was all that you could do to keep yourself productive, for if you stopped to think about how you were feeling, how physically and mentally exhausted you were, you weren’t sure what would happen.

But J knew.

J always knew.

There was nothing you could do and nowhere you could go which J didn’t know about. In a decidedly unconventional mode of protection had J given you a burner phone so that he could keep an eye on you. So long as you were safe, J was content. It wasn’t that he worried about you, per se, but he wasn’t able to fully concentrate on his ideas unless he received almost hourly updates on where you were, what you were doing. Sometimes, you didn’t text him, but his goons, stationed in and around Gotham, texted him in your stead. In return, for everything is fair and discussed at length between the two of you in your companionship, did you receive almost hourly updates about J’s whereabouts from his goons. You knew not if J knew about it, but you were incredibly appreciative of the troubles that his men went to in order to alleviate your worries and fears. J could spontaneously disappear for days at a time and it was next to impossible for you to rest even a little bit unless you knew at the very least that he was okay, even if you didn’t know where he was.

He was reckless and impulsive and it was the part of your relationship which you undoubtedly struggled with the most, but for J you could and you would endure almost anything. J always, always came home to you, often looking worse for wear, but the fact that he came home at all spoke volumes about just how much you meant to him. You were his hyena, his night monster, his Lilith, his home, and you were the only one in all of Gotham who knew him, who saw him. You weren’t afraid of him, you weren’t. You looked upon his facial disfigurement with love and touched those jagged wounds with such reverence that he often felt a lump in the back of his throat whenever you had those much coveted and quiet moments together. Though he never told you in as many words as those did J love you, and he showed you every day. His love language was subtle and easily misheard or even inaudible unless you knew him and once you did, once you had become fluent in his love language had you come to discover that it was one of the loudest and most fluid languages in the world. One only had to stop to listen.

Many a night had he come home to you when you were on the very edge of sleep, your threshold consciousness muting your voice and slowing your movements down as you stretched and arched your back like a cat to welcome your clown home. He often got into bed with you bare faced and freshly showered, if you were lucky, knowing as he did that you did not want to cuddle him when he was reeking of gasoline, gunpowder, greasepaint and sweat. On especially bad nights, however, when he had been gone for too long or when he was just too tired, did he simply collapse down beside you atop the covers for you to happily discover in the morning.

On this night, however, did J come home early - before you even went to bed. Aware was he of your mental and physical exhaustion and of everything which you were battling in your life currently, both within and outside of yourself, and he wanted to make sure that you knew that he was there for you. The entire world was a bad joke to J but you... oh, you were the one thing in his life which he could be threatened with, that he wanted to protect. If you were even remotely serious was something wrong with the state of the world, more so than there usually is, and even if he didn’t especially care for your endeavours did J care for and about you. You were his hyena and he was your clown and he wouldn’t allow anything less than you being completely comfortable and feeling safe within yourself and in the world as it was.

Presently were you in the kitchen, the fridge door wide open as you grabbed one of the many cans of Monster which J kept you supplied with. It was one of his many affectionate gestures; in keeping you steadily stocked with Monster was J telling you that he knew you and the things that you enjoy, the vices that you have, and though the volume that you drunk on even a daily basis concerned him, even slightly, he couldn’t and wouldn’t deny you anything if it was within his power to give it to you. And everything was in J’s power - at your word would he burn the entire world down. Just for you. Everything was for you. You were the centre of J’s world, his reason and his purpose, his guiding light and his home, and there was nothing you could ask that he could refuse. You pulled the tab of the can and made your way back into the living room, wearing nothing but one of J’s old shirts and a pair of lilac panties - incorporating your ship name into your daily life was something so small but the power that it held over you was monumental. It motivated you, grounded you and centred you like nothing else, other than the man who held your entire heart in his hands.

“Well, hel-lo beautiful.” It was a good thing that you had just swallowed your mouthful of Monster, otherwise you would have choked, both from surprise at hearing J’s gravelly voice speaking from the sofa, and from the extreme level of affection and of love that washed over you at that moment. J’s intense chocolate gaze moved over your body and one corner of his mouth curled upwards appreciatively. He never made you feel like you were anything less than a work of art worthy of being displayed in a museum. “And you are beautiful.”

“J!” There was an upwards lilt in your voice as you smiled and made your way home. You set your can down on the coffee table and then flopped down gracelessly on the sofa beside J, comfortable enough around him to not care that you were only wearing underwear beneath his discarded, previously worn shirt; so desperate were you to keep him around you even when he wasn’t physically here. Your head was leaning against the arm of the sofa, your feet touching the floor. You were slumped over, truly exhausted and more than ready for sleep, especially now that you had your clown home with you. Oh, but everything was so much better when J was home. He was safe and alive and you could look after him, love on him, and know that he was yours as much as you were his. You were soulmates in every definition in the world and no matter what, come hell or high water would the two of you always find your ways back to each other, back home. Twelve years, twelve fucking years, had led you to this. J was the very best part of your life, the very best of you, and though rarely, if ever, did he speak such words did you know beyond all shadow of a doubt that it was the same for him.

“You’re, ah - ya’ leanin’ the wrong way, Lil.” J’s low gravel of a voice broke through your threshold consciousness just enough for you to crack an eye open.

You understood what J was saying and you didn’t even bother to hide your grin as you sleepily moved so that your head was leaning against his upper arm. J grunted and lifted that arm so that he could tuck you into the side of his body, his fingers splayed across your opposite shoulder as he rubbed his hand up and down to chafe some warmth and comfort into you. It wasn’t enough for you, however, and you applied some pressure to where your head rested on his arm. “Cuddle me, you coward.” Your voice was soft, your words slightly slurred, so tired were you. Now that J was home, now that you were home did you crave sleep more than ever and you just wanted to sink into everything that J was, ever had been and would ever be and never resurface; you wanted your soul to merge and to blend with his one, to occupy one body with him, so that never again could you be torn asunder, even by yourselves.

J grunted, his head dangling over the back of the plush sofa. He didn’t even open his eyes as he grabbed you somewhat roughly and plonked you on his lap. “Don’t, ah - don’t bother tryna’ keep your weight off me, doll. Ya’ not gonna’ break me.” The inflexion of the word ‘weight’ suggested that he was insulted by the implication that you were somehow too much for him. You were always enough for J, always, just by being your wonderful, sweet, kind, giving, generous, loving, caring, nurturing, intelligent, hardworking, compassionate, chaotic self. You were physically gorgeous, this J knew even if you didn’t, and though your body was a temple did J also lay worship at the altar of your mind; for your beauty was on your inside and on your outside; a rare jewel were you.

You grinned at how well J knew you and you nuzzled your face into the warm crook of his neck as you got yourself comfortable. You wound your arms around his broad shoulders and pulled yourself into him, your legs slung over his lap, your feet pressed into the plush cushions of the purple sofa. Yet another reminder of your clown and the love that you had built together which you had been determined to get into your home; for you wanted J to always and forever completely surround you. You were safe so long as you knew J to be in your life, to be yours and indeed did he feel much the same way. He was nothing without you; the world was truly the cruellest joke without you in his life and by his side, where you belonged. 

Oh, but this is what you needed. The heated weight of J’s chest against your own, his pulse against your lips as you lavished his neck with kisses, your bodies pressed together deliciously. There was nothing sexual in this, but the sensuality of an embrace as tight as this, of two bodies being so completely entwined that you couldn’t tell where you started and where J ended was almost sinful. Almost. J’s arm was wound around your hips, holding you in place - for he missed you as much as you had missed him - and his gloved fingers in your hair, smooth and solid strokes calming you and easing you gently, gently, into sleep. 

Only once you were asleep, your body a dead weight atop J’s own, did he allow his own eyes, burning with his own exhaustion, to slide shut, and as Morpheus came to collect the two slumbering souls in your home did he see nothing but love, so strong that it was almost a third welcomed entity in the room, and he saw that he had no need to protect either of them. For no matter what would the two of you fight tooth and nail for the other person. You would kill and die for the other, though your individual protective streaks were such that neither of you would ever even consider allowing the other person to be put into such a position.

Yes, the hyena and her clown were a match made in Hell, and neither of them would ever have it any other way.

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

Valentines Day shenanigans with the ship of your choice? Or maybe board game/poker night with the main four?

(Direct sequel of midnight revelations)

It starts like this:

Mariner is teaching Tendi poker. Or well, Mariner is teaching Tendi her version of poker which involves no pants—for some reason—, various pointy objects that Sam is keeping his distance from and an abundance of multi-language profanity that is rather impressive for two women outside of the linguistics department.

Really though, Sam is impressed

Tendi, who has absolutely no poker face, is somehow winning and Mariner is somewhere between proud mom friend™ and shoving her throwing stars at the first person who pokes fun at her losing streak. Somewhere in all of this, Mariner runs out of credits and contraband, so with a sigh and a characteristic half-smirk, she tosses her last chip on the table.

“I’m going all in.”

“Your all in would be scarier if it literally wasn’t your last credit,” Sam remarks sarcastically from where he’s nursing a beer.

Mariner flips him the bird. “Whaddya you got for me, D’Vana?”

Tendi, trying to hold back her shit-eating grin and failing—again no poker face—shoves her huge pile of chips into the center of the table.

“Oh, I’m all in, baby.”

“Good,” Mariner grins back.

“Good,” Tendi replies, crossing her arms.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“I’m glad you went all in.”

“So am I.”

“Please stop flirting and finish the game,” Sam mutters, rolling his eyes.

Mariner doesn’t flip him the bird this time but gives him a side-eye that would have been its usual level of pee-your-pants-terrifying if not for the light blush that dusts her cheeks.

Tendi giggles. “Wanna raise the stakes?”

“Have you met me?”

“That’s fair,” both Tendi and Sam say in the same voice. Mariner rolls her eyes but can’t suppress her smug grin.

“Loser has to ask out the next person who enters the room,” Tendi says, dramatically steepling her hands in front of her face.

Mariner snorts. Loudly. “What are we, fucking twelve?”

“You got a better idea?” Tendi taunts.

“Actually,” Mariner lets a smirk crawl across her face. “As long as we’re going with sleepover levels of dares…loser has to get the next person who walks through that door to date them for three weeks without cracking.”

Tendi cackles, throwing down her cards.

“Full house,” Sam absentmindedly notes. “Not bad, Tendi.”

“Yeah, not bad,” Mariner says, revealing her hand to be royal fucking flush. “Enjoy that date, D’Vana.”

Sam chokes on his drink, while Tendi groans. Mariner laughs psychotically. “Work on that poker face, baby girl. You’ll get it eventually.”

“Ugh, you were just letting me win.”

“Maybe,” Mariner grins innocently. Tendi scowls at her. “Oh, come on,” she laughs. “Whoever comes through that door next can’t be that bad.”

This was the exact moment that Sam realizes that the universe has a sense of humor, because Brad fucking Boimler walks through the door.

Tendi turns a little blue around the cheeks—the Orion equivalent to blushing, Sam guesses—and smiles at him, waving.

“Fuck,” Mariner hisses. “Abort mission!”

Sam and Tendi frown at her. “What?”

“D’Vana, you cannot date Boimler,” Mariner whispers furiously.

“That was the deal!” Tendi hisses back, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Babe I love you, but you can’t fuck with him like that.”

“And it’s okay to fuck with other people?”

“Yes!”

Sam slaps a hand to his face. “You fuck with Boimler every day of the week, Mariner.”

“That’s different!”

“How?” Tendi demands.

Mariner—the woman who had been promoted and demoted so many times that her file was longer than a goddamn Britannica, jumped head first into anything that remotely whispered of danger, fought with the Captain daily, snarked at superior officers, gave zero fucks about Starfleet protocol, and had probably, at some point, flipped off the devil—is rendered completely speechless.

Sam begins to rapidly connect some dots.

“It’s only for three weeks,” Tendi continues. “And Brad’s kinda cute, in like, an intense I have crippling anxiety way.”

“Brad?” Mariner repeats, looking horrified. “You call him Brad?”

“Yes?” Boimler says, coming up behind her. Mariner lets out an uncharacteristic shriek and jumps about a foot in the air.

“Dude what the fuck.”

Boimler looks very very confused. “What?”

“What?” Mariner repeats loudly, eyes widening.

“Brad, wanna go out?” Tendi chirps, smiling innocently at him.

Aw, and now Sam has two adorable friends who are blushing, well, adorably at each other and one friend who is having a complete mental breakdown in the background.

“What, really? I would love to—why aren’t you guys wearing any pants?” Boimler asks, exasperated.  

Tendi lets out a snicker. “Mariner.”

Boimler gives Mariner an unimpressed look. Mariner tries to glare back, but it’s weak for her standards.

“I actually just finished my shift,” he says, turning back to Tendi. “Do you want to hang out?”

While Tendi cheers enthusiastically, Sam discreetly eyes his other friend. Mariner is kind of hyperventilating in the background, hands twitching toward the half-filled bottle of vodka she and Tendi had been chugging earlier. Sam carefully inches it away, unsure if she’s going to chug the rest of it or attack someone with it.

She makes a wounded noise at Tendi, who grabs Boimler by the arm and drags him out of the room, unreservedly talking a mile a minute about something that Sam’s already lost track of.

“What the fuck just happened.”

“I think Tendi asked Boimler on a date,” Sam replies, calmly. Mariner whips her head around and stares at him. The look behind her eyes is deranged.

“We have to break them up.”

Sun, moon and stars, the next three weeks were going to be a Mariner sized nightmare.

“I don’t get it, she’s completely out of his league—”

“Not true.”

“—they have nothing in common—”

“Sometimes opposites attract.”

“—and she’s just stringing him along! She’s going to dump him in two weeks!”

Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. They were about a week into Mariner’s dare and he already was ready to throw Mariner, Tendi and Boimler—poor, clueless Boimler—out of an airlock. Mariner had already tried to break the two up somewhere around two dozen times and had only succeeded in bringing them closer together.

This of course made Mariner even more determined to sabotage her friends.

“It’s not the end of the world, Mariner.”

“Of course, it is!” she hisses at him. “They break up and then I have to deal with Boimler being sad forever while also not shit-talking my best friend and not letting him know that I was the person who set them up!”

“Or they have an amicable break up and go back to being friends. Dude, they haven’t even progressed past basic hand holding. I don’t think it’s going to be a huge heart wrenching dumping.”

Boimler and Tendi enter the room, holding hands. “I feel like you’re the only one who understands me, sometimes,” Boimler says.

Mariner’s eye twitches.

“What should I get Brad for Valentines Day?” Tendi asks five days later, apropos to nothing. Mariner sits up so fast that she hits her head on the top of her bunk.

“WHAT.”

Tendi frowns over at her, looking up from her data padd. “Valentines Day? It’s a Terra Prime holiday that humans generally celebrate yearly around the Terra season of—”

“I KNOW WHAT VALENTINES DAY IS.”

Sam winces, along with the few unfortunate ensigns who happen to be in the cabin, at the volume. “You and Boimler are celebrating Valentines Day?” he weakly asks.

Tendi grins, her tongue sticking out between her teeth adorably. “He told me about it last night and asked if we could exchange gifts!”

There’s a dull thunk as Mariner repeatedly hits her head against the wall.

“Do we need to talk about this?” Sam asks, watching Mariner chug half her weight in alcohol at the bar.

“My liver, my rules.”

“Not your alcoholic diet,” Sam sighs, taking a seat and signaling to the barman. “Although I would lay off the tequila if you want to be functional tomorrow morning.”

Mariner scowls and raises the bottle to her lips again.

“I’m talking about your feelings for Boimler.”

Mariner chokes. “My fucking what.”

Sam rolls his eyes. He had hoped—for about a millisecond—that when Tendi had joined their group that someone else would finally, perhaps, have some braincells to go around, but no, it seems that Sam Rutherford is the only rational fucking person in their dysfunctional foursome.

“Don’t be the idiot you pretend to be,” he replies, calmly taking a sip of his own drink.

Mariner narrows her eyes at him. “I don’t have feelings for—”

“I’m not an idiot either, Mariner.”

“Look,” she snaps, “I’m vaguely attracted to almost everyone, it’s just who I am. I do not have feelings for Boimler, I’m just aware that he’s. Aesthetically pleasing and nice to be around.”

“Then stop acting like a crazy person whenever he tries to date anyone,” Sam snaps back. “If you’re not interested, then you need to back off.”

Mariner is quiet for a long moment. “Do you think he and D’Vana—”

“I think they enjoy each other’s company and that they’re both kind of lonely,” Sam replies, before she can finish. “If you want to know more, talk to Tendi.”

His friend nods, soberly. Sam feels kind of bad for snapping at her, but also knows that she appreciates his honesty.

“There’s worse things then falling for Boimler,” he says, nudging her encouragingly. “Even if he is a complete spaz.”

This coaxes a weak grin out of her. “He is so fucking awkward.”

“You should tell him.”

“That he’s awkward? I have, he got all fussed up and started—”

“That you like him,” Sam specifies, grinning.

Mariner, seemingly forgetting that she had just been denying her crush on their friend, protests, “He’s dating Tendi, dumbass, I’m not going to—”

“Hey, trust me on this one,” Sam says. “Just follow your instincts.”

“My instincts are telling me to desert him on an alien planet before I become too attached.”

“Follow my instincts.”

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Mariner does not, in fact, follow Sam’s instincts.

He isn’t there for what happens next, but hears about it from an amused Tendi who swings up into his bunk that evening to give him the lowdown.

“So, Beckett has a crush on Brad,” she says, hugging his pillow to her midsection.

Sam puts down his data padd and watches Tendi very carefully. “Oh?”

“Yep. She cornered him in the cafeteria, told him his eyes were pretty and that she liked him and then left, screeching something about sitcom-b plots and Starfleet alumni. I think she has inside jokes with herself? I’m not sure what that was about.”  

Sam can’t suppress the laugh that bubbles out of him. “God, she’s crazy. Are you okay?”

Tendi frowns, confused, at him. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Your best friend has a crush on your boyfriend?”

“My—my what? Wait, oh nine hells YOU GUYS THINK BRAD AND I ARE DATING?”

Sam has a sudden moment of clarity where he realizes that he does not, in fact, have all the braincells in their group.

“You aren’t?” he dumbly asks.

Tendi starts laughing. She laughs so hard she almost falls out of his bunk—he thankfully catches her in time, but it’s a close one. “Rutherford. Sam,” she wipes a tear away from her eyes. “I’m aromatic, you absolute complete dumbass.”

“You are?” Probably not the best reaction to his friend coming out, but Sam hardly has time to apologize, before Tendi is laughing at him again.

“Brad—well, I probably shouldn’t tell you, it’s his thing—but he kind of understands where I’m coming from. We were having friend dates.”

“But…Valentines Day,” he stresses.

Tendi rolls her eyes. “I asked Brad about Terra traditions and holidays and he gave me a fucking history lecture it was so boring. I did like the idea of Valentines Day and asked if I could partake in it with him. He suggested gift giving.”

Sam stares at her. “I am a dumbass.”

“You are,” she agrees. “But I need your dumbass brain to help me get Brad and Beckett together.”

“Oh, so you do have all the braincells,” he says, grinning.

Tendi’s smile is sharp. “I have no idea what you’re on about, but yes. Yes I do.”

Getting Mariner and Boimler together is way easier said than done. Mariner is avoiding everyone like a goddamn plague and Boimler is fluctuating between literally vibrating with anxiety and being depressed as shit.  

“Well they definitely don’t have the braincells,” Sam says, after another failed attempt to trap the two of them in a room together.

“You need to stop talking about braincells,” Tendi sighs. “Why don’t we just tell them that they like each other?”

“We can’t do that!”

“Why?”

“It’s too easy that way!”

Tendi stares at him.

Sam stares back.

“I’m telling Brad that Beckett has squishy feelings for him,” she deadpans. “And you’re going to try to catch Beckett and tell him that I don’t have squishy feelings for him. And then we’re going to lock them in a goddamn turbolift until they get their freak on.”

Tendi either has all of the braincells or none of them.

Their plan surprisingly takes a whole lot less subterfuge than Sam was expecting and a lot more—well—emotions. He did manage to find Mariner and after guiltily admitting that he may have been a bit wrong about the nature of Boimler and Tendi’s relationship, she was off in a shot, shrieking some nonsense about “third-act bullshit” and how she didn’t sign up to be the “pawn in a romantic subplot.”

Mariner might, actually, be certifiably crazy. 

Brad hears about one of the turbolifts breaking from another ensign in his department. He and Tendi subtly high-five.

Six hours later—“if there was ever a time for buffer time, that time is now, Tendi”—a grinning Mariner and a mildly disheveled, exit the turbolift.

It ends like this:

Tendi is attempting to teach Sam poker. Well. It’s not actual poker, more like a hybrid of Mariner’s version of poker and a card game from Tendi’s home world, but it’s close enough and they’re having fun, so it really doesn’t matter.

Mariner is drunk as fuck, alternating between casually hitting on a flustered Boimler and insulting the shit out of anyone who even looks in their direction.

Tendi lays down her cards. Straight flush. Sam moans in despair. Boimler lets out a shriek of stop doing that we’re in public you moron and Mariner cackles in that unhinged way of hers.

None of them have the braincells.

[huntertales]

Part Two: Wicked Witch of the West. (Slumber Party S09E04)

Episode Summary: The reader and the boys call in I.T. expert Charlie Bradbury to help track fallen angels with technology found in the Men of Letters bunker. However, they soon discover something more in the form of the one and only Dorothy from Wizard of Oz. Everyone joins forces to take down the Wicked Witch and her evil plans. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,020.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

There was nothing more you loved than curling up with Dean in bed to enjoy a little bit of TV and enjoying one another’s company. Sam offered up his room for all of you to stream the show, you took a wild guess that it was because the man was afraid to step into his brother’s room to see a wild assortment of leftover food growing new forms of mold. You reassured him you made sure all half-eaten meals were thrown away and everything was kept in a tiddly order. He reminded you that his room was the one with the TV. And your bedroom was a mere disaster of still unopened boxes from your house and clean clothes thrown around in a manner you swore was organized. All of you settled on the offer and enjoyed a few episodes of the TV series you had heard so much about. 

The bowl of popcorn shared between you and Dean had nothing left but kernels after munching through the episodes that kept your attention with its enjoyable plot and characters. You sipped the remaining mouthfuls of your beer as Dean slid his hand from around your waist and reached for the remote to pause the screen after nearing the end of the final episode on the DVD. 

"Wow. That Joffrey's a dick." Dean felt the need to declare his hatred for a character you had grown to despise yourself from his childish and downright horrific behavior. You didn't think you ever had more of an urge to jump through a TV screen and strangle a fictional character more than you had for that blonde headed bastard.

"Oh, you have no idea. Wait until he—" Charlie smiled at the upcoming plot details you and Dean might want to hear about that would happen in the next season. Before she could get a single word out, the young Winchester promptly stopped her from spilling any details.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Spoilers." Sam warned the redhead. "I haven't read all the books."

"You're gonna read the books?" Dean asked his brother. He didn’t see the point of wasting one’s time reading a fictional version of the same media you could consume in a live action version, no mental imagery required on his part.

You shook your head from the point the older man was missing. Books were not always like the live adaptations. The plot might have been the same from the beginning, but TV versions often strayed from the original material to make their own spin and give the characters new journeys. The reader was able to picture the characters described by how the author saw them and not how the actors were chosen for the role. There was no greater disappointment to a reader when someone chosen turned out to be the opposite of what you spent pages imagining in your head. Not to mention the author was still writing the novels as the show aired. You tried getting yourself into the book until you ultimately failed trying to find interest. You gave the first one to the younger WInchester in hopes he would enjoy them. 

"Yes, Dean. I like to read books—you know, the ones without pictures." Sam shot back with a sarcastic comeback to strike his brother silent. 

You took it upon yourself to finally relieve the ache in your back that started to creep up on you while you were halfway through the fourth episode. You let out a long, drawn out sigh of relief after you got back up to your feet. “Ooh. I have never loved you for talking to me into getting that memory foam mattress more than I do now.” You said to your boyfriend. The price tag made your eyes widen from how expensive it was. In reality you didn’t spend a single penny. And you slept better than you had in a long while. You rubbed your lower back and stretched slightly to make yourself stop feeling twice your age. “I don’t know how you sleep on that thing Sammy.” 

"You're not kidding. This bed is about as comfortable as a brick." Charlie got up from the chair she had been sitting on and switched to the edge of the mattress. She bounced a few times to discover it was painful as it looked. You smiled and leaned against the desk to change up the scenery. Charlie glanced around the room, taking notice of the fifties style attire with not much updated touches to make it personal. "Any plans on moving in anytime soon?"

"I am moved in." Sam said. "This is just my style."

"Yeah, this is style. Old man." You agreed. You took a look around the room yourself to see he didn't do much to give it the Sam Winchester touch except for cleaning out the several decades of dust. He didn't even try to put any effort to make it his own. "You would've really fit into the fifties aesthetics, Sammy. Fifty shades of brown and endless plaid."

"Well, I'm sorry I haven't hung up the 'Hang in there, kitty' poster yet, Y/N. Feel free to redecorate." Sam didn’t like the sarcastic jokes you were saying on his behalf. You rolled your eyes from how he was behaving all of a sudden. "Tell me again how your moving process is going.”

"I'll get there eventually. At least I'm making some kind of effort to make it mine." You said. It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes from your half-hearted excuse. "Are you saying our home's not good enough for the 'Hang in there, kitty' poster?"

"This isn't our home." Sam corrected you. "This is where we work."

You tightly furrowed your brow from the way he was acting. "What's the difference?"

You waited for Sam to give you a reason why he didn't think the bunker was just that, a home. He was the one who helped you persuade Dean into staying here permanently after discovering it for yourself. You thought he would have embraced it with open arms from everything this place had to offer. For once he had a home to call his own. Something that fits him perfectly from the life all of you lead. No one to take it away, no real chance of a monster sneaking in here. You hoped he might have been able to find some sort of comfort here. But it seemed the younger Winchester didn't feel the same way you and his brother did. To say it came as a surprise would have been an understatement. 

Charlie looked between you and the younger Winchester when the both of you did nothing more than stare at one another for a few seconds. It was as if the two of you were waiting for the other one to say something to keep this conversation-turned argument going. You and Sam remained silent. The redhead didn't realize she had triggered such a touchy subject. She shifted her gaze and mumbled something underneath her breath, a weak attempt at trying to relieve the brewing awkward tension.

“All right, well, I'm gonna go get us some more beers.” Dean said, getting himself up from the bed and making his way to the door. ”How about that?”

You polished off your beer when Dean shut the bedroom door behind him, leaving the three of you alone. You set the empty bottle down on the desk and quickly spoke up, not wanting the mood in the room to shift into a subject you didn’t want to discuss while your friend was staying here. 

"So, Charlie," You struck up a conversation you had been meaning to bring up since you heard about the redhead's solo adventures. "what was that all about how hunting isn't magical?"

"Saving people, hunting things, the family business? I am down. But..." Charlie trailed off, making you and the younger Winchester share a curious expression to her hesitance about seeing what hunting was really all about. "I was raised on Tolkien, man. I mean, where is all of this?" She held up the DVD she grabbed to make her point about what she had really been searching out there for. "Where are my white walkers and my volcano and magic ring to throw in the damn thing? Where...Where's my magic quest?"

"Magic, quests...suck. Trust us." Sam scoffed. You had to agree with the younger man about that point. Both of you dealt with your version of fate and quests. It all mapped out to a miserable ending. "They're all dead ends.”

Charlie's shoulders slumped at the possible reality she might have to come to terms with. The few times she had been able to work on a hunt with the three of you had turned out to be sort of fun,  minus the physical and emotional trauma she endured. Charlie was searching for a spark that steamed from a childhood daydream of fighting dragons and saving the princess. An urge that didn’t come along in this kind of lifestyle. 

The supernatural and magic might be real like it was in the books she read, but it was vastly different from the fictional counterparts. It was darker. Scarier. Charlie couldn’t help but find the light in every bad situation. You had a feeling she was going to keep looking for her quest. You were a firm believer everyone had a role to play in life. She had yet to find hers. 

+ + +

The four of you decided to check on the progress of the files Charlie had been downloading to her tablet after giving the progress more than enough time. You made your way down to the control room to see everything was how you left it at first glance. It was when you made your way closer to the outdated machines was when you noticed something was strangely off. You slowed down your pace and looked straight ahead at the strange substance on the wall behind the shelf. You knew for sure it hadn’t been there before. 

“What the hell?” Dean muttered under his breath. The boys approached closer to the shelf as you stayed behind near Charlie as she reached for her tablet to check on things. "Sam give me a hand."

You placed your hands on your hips and watched as the brothers pushed away the shelf out of the way, revealing something you had never seen before. Almost the entire wall was covered in a grayish color cocoon. You were tempted to poke at the substance to see what it felt like in order to figure out what it might be, but your squeamish disgust kept your feet planted where they were. Dean took out a knife from his pocket and slid the blade through the substance, cutting deep enough of a makeshift entrance to discover what might be hiding inside. You weren't exactly sure what you were expecting to find in there. A human arm falling out was not one of them. 

Dean stepped back from the possible danger he was standing next to. You and Sam didn’t waste a second pulling out your guns and pointing it in the direction of where the arm was. The older Winchester waited a moment to see if anything else crawled out. But it seemed you were safe for the time being. Dean opened up the flaps of the makeshift pod wider. A fully grown woman tumbled out and to the ground in doing so. Charlie let out a soft gasp as Dean swiftly grabbed for his weapon if the stranger decided to try and do anything stupid as a way of greeting you all. You slowly made your way forward as Dean leaned down to push the woman on her backside to get a better inspection of her. 

She appeared to be human at first glance. What you found most odd about her was the taste in clothing. They weren't from this decade, or from this century for that matter. You were a little bit tempted to slightly nudge her with your foot when she remained on the ground with no sudden movement. After a few more seconds she started to come around to consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open as she inhaled a deep breath for the first time in God knows how long. The first question that popped in your mind was who the hell she was. 

You and Charlie did a little digging in the archives to discover the mystery visitor was someone you thought was a fictional character in a movie and book series you remembered fondly from your childhood. You made your way back to the control room with the file in hand to see Dorothy was recuperating from her well over seven decade slumber. She sat on the floor with a blanket Sam had provided for her as he tried to get some sort of information out of her. You dropped the file to the computer and briefed Dean with what you and Charlie learned. You stared down at the sepia toned photograph Dorothy sitting on her motorcycle. She sure wasn’t the Judy Garland version you had pictured in your head when you read the books as a child. 

"Holy crap! The first case invested in this bunker involved Dorthy. She and the witch came into this room, and they never came out." Charlie read off the details of the file she hadn't gotten a chance to go through in finer detail. You let out a quiet sigh from how excited she was getting over the hunt you stumbled upon. "This will never stop blowing my mind!"

"Okay, pace yourself, Toto." You whispered to her.

“Oz is real!” She exclaimed with too much eagerness for your personal liking from the situation you were dealing with. You shook your head from the way she was handling all of this. She nudged you with her arm, trying to get you amped up as she was from the things you were learning. “It’s part of the fairy world.” 

“We have to find her.” Dorothy stated. You knew damn well who she was talking about, the wicked witch. Didn’t explain who put her in the glass bottle and left her on the shelf undisturbed for all these decades. The same bottle Dean must’ve accidentally spilled over when he was trying to take off the back panel of the computer.

“No, we have to talk before anyone does anything, okay?” Sam tried to get the woman to focus on the questions she ignored just moments ago. She remained silent, tugging the blanket closer around her body. “Dorothy?”

“Talk? Typical Men of Letters, standing around, having a nice little chat with your noses buried in your books while your little secretaries take notes.” Dorothy rolled her eyes when she glanced in the direction of you and Charlie, thinking standards for how women were only capable of being nothing more than glorified paper pushers. You scoffed at her presumption that was the farthest thing from the truth. She had a lot to catch up on. 

“We’re hunters.” Dean told the woman. 

"And who are you calling a secretary?" Charlie came to both of your defenses at the sexist title. 

“You’re not secretaries? You’re Women of Letters?” Dorothy looked surprised much as she sounded when she asked a question that felt almost impossible. You nodded your head, only making her become more baffled about her surroundings. "W—How long have I been out?"

“That’s why we need to talk. Look, you’ve been gone for over seventy-five years. Now, according to our file, you came here to kill the wicked witch and then you disappeared.” Sam gave the woman a quick refresher to help jog her memory in hopes it might fill in the gaps of information that the file couldn’t provide. “What happened?”

“We couldn’t find a way to kill her. So I did the only thing that I could.” Dorothy explained to all of you that led her to the demise, and how you found her the way you did. “A binding spell that came at a price—her soul with mine.”

“So you’ve been frozen with the witch for all this time?” You asked. 

“Yes.” Dorothy answered. She pushed off the blanket and got up to her feet, growing frustrated from all the precious time you were wasting on silly questions that weren’t going to lead the search for the witch any faster. “Look, the witch cannot be killed. If I am awake, then so is she.”

“Wait, if she’s here, why didn’t she kill you?” Sam wondered.

“She can’t.” Dorothy explained. 

“You’re protected by the witch of the North’s kiss.” Charlie jumped into the conversation and told you the reason why. She smiled from her knowledge that she had a feeling was going to come in handy. "It was in the books."

“Oh, forget the books! They’re not important. I’m protected. You aren’t.” Dorothy turned the focus onto an important detail that couldn't go without saying from the danger all of you were under. ”Now, the witch came here looking for something. I have no idea what it is. But we have to find her before she finds it.” 

“All right, all right. Charlie, dig into the files. See if you can find anything that puts a dent in a witch.” Dean instructed a set of plans to somehow get this situation under wraps. “Sam, Y/N and I will have a look-see. Come on.” 

“I’m helping.” Dorothy declared, clapping her hands together. 

"Yeah, I don't doubt it. But for right now, why don't you rest up and help the smartest person in the room?" You suggested to the woman. You glanced over in Charlie’s direction to catch the smile that began to creep on her lips from the subtle compliment. The young woman admitted about her longing for magic and all sorts of adventures, you had a feeling Dorothy could provide some during her stay. “Have fun, girls.”

You and the boys searched much of the grounds as you could together. Neither one of you wanted to take a chance at splitting up and going up against the wicked witch alone if you were unlucky enough. You didn't know how long it had been after she escaped or where she was hiding. You went through several different locations before making your way to the dungeon shortly after, wanting to be sure your other house guest was still locked up tight. The wicked witch and the king of hell teaming up together wasn't how you wanted to spend your night.

Luckily for you the king of hell was exactly where you had left him earlier today; locked up tight in the chains that secured him from trying to make a foolish escape. But he wasn’t innocent as he looked slumped back in the chair. Crowley was all too causally whistling a familiar tune from a movie you had seen several times in your lifetime enough to recognize the reference. It was the song. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Dorothy sung it before she was swept away to Oz by the tornado. You cautiously looked around to make sure if the wicked witch wasn’t here, and when she wasn’t like how you suspected, you dropped your gun back down to your side. 

"Wow. If it isn't Dorothy and her pals, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. Your new houseguest—so misunderstood." Crowley informed you of what you already were about to deduce on your own. He waited a moment for either one of you to get the reference he slipped in, but when he was left hanging, you responded with silence. “Neither one of you saw 'Wicked'?"

"Sorry. I haven't exactly had the chance to visit Broadway lately. I'll make sure to get right on that after we wrap all of this up." You said, rolling your eyes. "What did she say to you?"

"Something along the lines of..." You weren't sure if the demon was trying to be cheeky with you when he hissed, bearing his teeth and all. 

"All right, well, I'm gonna get some holy oil and a lighter, dick bag." Dean said to the demon, not even the least bit impressed by the childish behavior that meant nothing to you. 

"I know what she's looking for." Crowley said. He tried to use his knowledge for leverage to get something out of you. You narrowed your eyes on the demon as he raised his brow, wondering if you were going to play long to hear the answer.

"What does she want?" Sam questioned the demon. 

"I'd be happy to tell you, as soon as I get to stretch my legs." Crowley gave you a smug smile you wanted to smack off his face. The demon knew he had you backed into a corner, the only thing you could do was give into his petty demands. Or continue chasing your tails.

You let out a frustrated sigh. The boys weren't too pleased either as to what the demon was asking. But you gave in with a nod of the head. Dean approached Crowley with the key to unlock the chain around the demon's neck, all while holding the knife to stab him with if he tried anything stupid. Crowley behaved the entire time. He slid off the collar and let it drop to the ground, you and Sam never lowering your weapons as he did so. He let out a groan of relief from being freed for the first time since you forced him down here. 

You gave the demon an impatient look as he took his time enjoying the freedom that wasn’t going to last for too long. He moved around his stiff neck and finally pushed himself up to his feet to stretch his aching legs. Crowley even had the audacity to let out a chuckle and smile at his victorious win.

"All right." You spoke up, wanting to get the demon back on track to the reason why you were even letting him off his leash. "What does the witch want?"

"Give me a mo.” Crowley said. “I still need to air myself out."

You pointed your loaded gun at him and shot off a round straight into his chest, showing him you weren't in the mood to keep playing his little games. "I think you're out enough." 

“Rude.” The demon muttered, taken back by your hostile behavior.

Crowley inspected the bullet wound in his meat suit and shook his head, you ruined his outfit even farther as well. You were about to warn him where the next bullet would go, the demon compiled before you could get a single word out. He reached for the crumpled piece of paper at the edge of the table and unfolded it to show you a single word written down. You furrowed your brow slightly, not sure what to make of it.

“Key?” Sam read off the word. “What key?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. Had to send her off on a merry chase before she could melt me.” The demon said. He gave you a smile from the corny joke you once again didn’t find the least bit funny. “Told her you boys kept the keys in the kitchen. You do have a kitchen in this crap hole, don’t you?”

You had the first potential lead at finding out where the witch was before she could get her hands on this supposed key. You and the boys quickly made your way to the kitchen in some kind of hope that you might be able to catch her, but you were too late. All she left behind was the mess she left trying to find the damn key she was doing everything she could to find. 

The witch tore every inch of the room apart; pots and pans were scattered all over the floor, food you had left out to enjoy later laid spilled on the counters. It looked like a tornado blew in here. You let out a groan of frustration and dropped your arm holding your gun back down to your side. Not only did you have this mess to clean up after you solved this Wizard of Oz, the wicked bitch was still on the loose and most likely tearing apart another room.

"Damn it, I just cleaned in here." Dean grumbled in frustration.

"Really?" Sam sounded like he was in disbelief at hearing his brother was capable of cleaning up after himself. 

"Surprisingly, yes. He's become very domestic since we started living here." You said. You made your way into the kitchen when it was made clear your problem was long gone, but still lingering about and causing more chaos in her path. "Looks like we got a witch problem." 

You took a moment to examine the damage the witch left behind and how long it was going to take for you and the boys to clean up. You were still on high alert, nearly shooting at the person who came into the kitchen from one of the few doorways. You dropped your gun back down when you saw that it was just Charlie and Dorothy back from their own tasks you hoped had been more successful than your dead end. 

“Sorry. We raided your gun range. Made us some poppy bullets.” Charlie explained to all of you. She showed off the revolver and shoved a hand inside her pocket, pulling out the one thing you had against the wicked witch. You raised your brow in curiosity and reached for one to inspect it for yourself. “They won’t kill the witch, but they will stun the crap out of her.” 

Dean examined the bullets for himself Charlie had made on her own. He had to admit she did a good job on figuring out a potential weapon against the witch. She always managed to impress him from how she could handle herself in stressful times. “That’s my girl.”  

“There was only enough for five bullets, so…” Charlie told you the downside about her genius invention. You dealt with worse circumstances as you loaded the bullet into the chamber for the moment you might need to use it. “Make each shot count.” 

“Now we just have to find her before she finds whatever the hell’s she’s looking for.” Dorothy said. 

“She’s looking for a key.” Sam informed the two women. 

“How do you know?” Charlie asked. 

“Little birdie told us.” You said, leaving out the source where you found out on your own. You really didn’t have time, or in the mood, to explain the reason behind having the king of hell chained up in your dungeon. “Ring any bells, Dorothy?”

“Unfortunately. It’s the key to Oz. There are magical ways into Oz—tornado, eye of a hurricane, whirlpool—but this key will turn any locked door into a portal to Oz.” Dorothy explained what made this one in particular so special. And why the witch wanted to get her hands on it so badly.  “Insert key, twist, and presto, you’re in Oz.”

“How did the Men of Letters get the key?” Sam asked. 

“I have no idea, but if she finds it, she’ll go back and finish what she started. She’ll destroy all that is good in Oz. She’s got armies of witches, flying monkeys.” Dorothy painted all of you a grim picture of what the future might look if you weren’t faster than she was. “Many will die.” 

"What's this key look like?" Dean asked her. Dorothy pulled out a small leather bound journal from the inside pocket of her jacket and flipped to a sketch of the key. You furrowed your brow slightly when it looked familiar to you. "I've seen that key. Found it when Y/N and I were doing inventory." 

“Where is it now?” Dorothy asked. 

“My room. We got to get that key. Alright, Charlie and I will go look in my room.” Dean formulated a plan before all of you split up to go your separate ways. “Why don’t you guys buy us some time?”

You nodded your head in agreement. You watched as Dorothy and Sam made their way to the more open area of the bunker to get a better chance at finding the witch. You lingered behind for a moment as you called out for the redhead’s attention before she could get too far. Much as you trusted her ability to take care of herself, there was still a part of you that wanted her out of danger. You were dealing with a powerful witch and no real means to stopping her. 

“Safest place in this joint is the dungeon.” You informed her.

“You have a dungeon in this place? Of course you do.” She smiled at the new room she learned about, wondering exactly might be hiding in there when given the chance to explore it one of these days like the rest of this place. 

“So maybe you should…” You hinted around what you were trying to say without coming right out with it. You wanted more than anything to make sure she was safe. But you should have known she wasn’t going to back down from the very thing she admitted to you about stumbling across again. This hunt was her dream come true. 

“I am not hiding, especially in a dungeon. Wicked witch, a key, a quest? Did you not listen to anything I said before?” Charlie was walking on cloud nine from the adventure she stumbled upon. She broke out into a grin and playfully punched the man standing next to you in the shoulder. “Let’s do this, Dean.” 

You shook your head in annoyance as the woman made her way to Dean’s room to find the key, ignoring your last attempt at calling her name. You knew at this point all of your warnings fell upon dea ears. You let out a sigh of defeat and made your way to wherever Dorothy and Sam ended up, Dean quickly catching up with Charlie before she could get herself into too much trouble while snooping around his bedroom.

[Next Part]

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[whispersafterdusk]

Lost in Time - ch 4

The next morning Dr. Xu and Eli were already waiting for Arlo and Sam outside the Corps building; the initial plan had been to put Eli on Spacer and then walk out together but Eli had assured them she knew how to ride so they'd changed to Eli on Spacer, Arlo and Xu on Arrow, and Sam on Teddy, with the group heading out together with everyone mounted.

And she did seem comfortable enough on Spacer's back so they'd sped up to a light trot; with everyone mounted and out of the mud they were actually making good time in getting out to the sinkhole.

"Was horseback riding a popular hobby, in the Old World?"

There was a pause before Eli answered Xu. "For some.  For me it was just part of training."

Sam, at the head of their little procession, turned to look back at her curiously.  "Training? For what?" ((Continued below cut))

"Armed forces."

Arlo blinked.  "Armed forces?  You're a soldier?"

"Was, am, still will be.  I am one of thirty seven 3-star gold rank Ranger Captains - the only person higher in the chain of command in the Ranger division is the Ranger General.  The Rangers of Dubei were one specialized arm of the Dubei Armed Forces, our partner division was Spec Ops.  Then you had your various rank and file for air, land, and sea, and we all answered to the High General of Dubei."

Arlo heard a very quiet 'that explains a few things...' from Xu sitting behind him.  "I see. Did the Dubei army ride horses a lot then?"

"Not the army in general - the Rangers did though, Spec Ops too.  We were the ones expected to be ready for anything so we were taught a lot of skills that most people assumed couldn't possibly be useful.  Such as riding a horse when there were thousands of different types of personal and multiperson flying or motorized craft available."

"Were you in the war that-" Sam stopped abruptly, gaze flicking to Arlo and Xu.  Xu was making a 'cut it out' gesture as he leaned around Arlo to be seen.  "-nevermind."

Eli snorted.  "Was I IN a war?  Probably.  We'd been having unrest and diplomatic breakdowns for about three years, last I remember.  It was one of those unofficial deals -- everyone was doing warlike things, but no one dared declare it a war. Not yet."

"DID they call it a war, ever?"

Eli was silent for a long period of time; they were almost up to the familiar red tent at the platform's edge when she finally answered.  "I remember my post being shelled.  If that didn't get called out for open warfare I don't know what would've been."

When they were at the tent they all dismounted, with Sam helping lift Eli down; with the horses tied to a nearby tree they made their way onto the platform and there Eli paused, shielding her eyes against the sun as she slowly (and carefully) spun in place and scanned their surroundings.

"Not even the cliffs..." she muttered, huffing out a sigh that sounded more annoyed than anything else.

"What about the cliffs?"

Eli slowly began making her way to the elevator car.  "I said, not even the cliffs look familiar.  I was hoping I'd recognize SOMETHING out here...anything, really.  I can't for the life of me see anything of Dubei in what's left.  Even the ruins that're mostly intact -- I can recognize WHAT they were but not WHERE they were in Dubei."  She paused, then gave them a strained smile.  "Not surprising, I guess -- Dubei was huge.  Portia's nothing at all like it."

"How big was Dubei?" Sam asked, stepping into the car.

Eli followed her in and as the elevator began to lower Arlo heard her answer "um...big.  Millions big" and then they were out of sight on their way to the bottom of the shaft.

Arlo looked to Xu, and then to Selene as she came out of the tent weighed down with two toolboxes and two duffel bags across her chest and back.  "We ready?"

Xu nodded; Arlo took one toolbox and one of the (extremely heavy) duffel bags, and waited for the elevator to come back up.

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

 Don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it.

It was a mantra running through her head -- one that was familiar, that had been taught to her a long time ago-

 Don't think about it.

-that had popped up over and over across all the training it had taken to rise to the rank she carried.

Don't think about it.  In those lessons, "it" was whatever was not immediately crucial to the mission.

That this world wasn't her own wasn't crucial.  The fact Dubei was...gone, wiped off the map without a trace, wasn't crucial.  Nothing was familiar, everything was new and wrong and wholly alien to her, but these facts were not crucial to the mission.  

They didn't matter right now.

Her mission as it stood was:

- get to the heart of this facility and see what power system was installed - determine the extent of damage done and calculate probability of a total system meltdown - corollary to above: determine level of danger to facility and surrounding area should total system failure occur - create plan of repair if repair is possible - if repair is not possible, figure out how to fully and properly shut down the equipment and de-couple it from the system as a whole and disable it enough that it can't be turned on again - adapt as needed

There were many details that were up in the air -- did this time period even have the tools needed to do any of the steps she'd mentally laid out?  Rangers were taught to adapt at any cost but adapation had its limits; if there wasn't any tool remotely similar to what she'd need to detach conduits or activate the safety measures or repair a damn reactor then she couldn't just 'adapt' a suitable tool out of thin air, and this time period may not have the infrastructure in place to try to recreate one.

Were there any AIs left down here?  Based on the time-ravaged halls they were walking down it didn't look likely...where had the AIs gone?   Why had her people taken the AIs but left their dead behind?

Yes, she knew about the skeletal remains in the halls these Civil Corps folks were keeping her away from (not that it mattered - Eli knew nothing immediately important would be found in the office or dorm areas).  If anyone would have the details on this facility and how to stave off a reactor meltdown, it would be an AI - either one of the assistants or even the installed All Source, if it was still here.

 Don't think about it.

What had happened here was a mystery she'd need to work on, secondary to securing the reactor.  Additionally, what this place WAS was a mystery needing solving - if she knew what this facility was for and why she was down here that would answer a few personal questions she had.

 Don't think about it.

She had to stop and rest several times, bracing her cane against the wall and leaning her backside into it like a tall, terrible stool.  To be this weak and unreliable in a situation like this irked her -- she'd never been one who needed to be carried or coddled, not even as a child.  Her mother liked to say she came out of the womb at a sprint and never sat down since; she'd love to be sprinting right now, or at least capable of walking ten feet without getting winded or weak in the knees.

 Don't think about it.

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

"I'm not sure which building this was because I'm not sure where we are, locationally, within Dubei, but I do know Dubei itself had at least 1763 hospitals and that's not accounting for specialized facilities, long-term care, rehabs, or anything else that wasn't considered general or acute care."

"Really?" Xu asked, looking amazed.  "The entire Alliance doesn't even have that many between them."

Eli shrugged and waited patiently as Arlo, Xu, Selene, and Sam stepped out of the elevator ahead of her; all of them carried either a flashlight or wore a small headlamp (Eli had a headlamp herself) and the two Civil Corps members led the way to a shattered glass door across the room from the elevator's opening.  "Dubei had a population of 2.7 million if you counted all the outlying suburbs and territories.  With that many people you have to have enough places for folks to go.  No amount of peaceful times can keep you from getting sick or old, and the human body has quite a number of failure points even if you're at the pinnacle of healthy."

Arlo stepped through the door and aside to let the other three through, then offered Eli a steadying hand as she picked her way over the broken glass in the floor.  "Were hospitals normally underground like this?"

"No," was Eli's simple reply.  "But I never said this WAS a hospital."

"You sure sounded like you were implying it."

"It's a possibility but not a definitive fact at this time," Eli sighed.  "The only facilities that tended to be underground were research facilities.  Being underground shielded delicate equipment from outside interference.  We might be in the underbelly of an especially large hospital, or we might be in a research center.  Neither is more likely than the other at the moment."

Ahead of her Sam and Arlo kicked away broken glass and twisted metal left over from the light fixtures that had fallen from the ceiling; it wasn't entirely needed but the gesture was appreciated all the same as she followed in their wake and walked up to the lone console she could see in the light of their flashlights.  

"Did you bring a power source?"

Selene nodded.  "Yep.  I brought four, in fact."

"Good.  I can already tell we'll need in that center panel there but let me get a look at what else we're working with."

As Selene began digging for the right sized wrench to start removing bolts from the panel Eli eyed the computer console from where she stood; it was rectangular in shape but slightly curved, came up to a little taller than her waist, and was covered in buttons, dials, a few wide slots and some sockets, a single lever whose head could fit into her palm, the grill of a speaker, and a pair of keyboards on either end.   The console was long enough to fit four people, five if they stood shoulder to shoulder.  

Pretty standard really, aside from the fact she didn't see any displays or monitors nor did she see where they might have been if they HAD been here and had since been removed.  The slots she could see suggested that, for this room at least, they might have relied entirely on the portable displays (both portable screens as well as self-contained computer units).  It was a lot more efficient to carry copies of your work around on a personal computer where you could later connect to the main system to update the files either in the database or update things on your screen rather than be tied to a stationary console -- the problem was Eli doubted they'd have any chance at all at finding a still-functional screen after all this time, which would leave them reliant on verbal communication with the AI system (assuming THAT was even functional, and she wasn't holding her breath).

With a grunt Selene popped the panel loose and Eli moved her attention to the woman and the revealed inner workings of the console.   With an offered arm from Xu she carefully lowered herself down to the ground to sit cross-legged in front of the opening and hunched so her headlamp shined inside.

Familiar wiring and conduits met her gaze - the dust coating everything in here was thick enough she couldn't see coloring or labels but she could mostly guess what was what based on connector rings, sizes, and where everything was running to or out of.  

"All right... See that wide cap there, in the very back?"

Selene got on her hands and knees, peering into the open panel as Eli leaned back.  "-the one that kind of looks like that's where the tube wires come in?"

"Tube wi- oh.  This is the room you found me in, I recall now.  No, those should be routed to the left there -- that one there with the 3-way split."

"Oh, ok - I see that one.  So the wide cap one is...  Aha, I see it.  Is that the incoming power?"

"Yes.  What you'll want to do is follow it in about eight inches and then take the top off the box it looks like it's feeding in to.  See it?"

"Yep," Selene answered.  Eli scooted out of the way and the woman moved in closer; she took off her headlamp and tapped the builder on the shoulder with it, swapping it out for the flashlight she held. It wasn't an ideal angle but Eli shined it over her shoulder into the opening anyway to supplement the headlamp and then had nothing else to do but wait and hope the woman was able to get the relay box's lid off.

There were a few clanks, the sound of something breaking loose followed by the sound of metal clattering against plastic, and then Selene pulled out of the opening with the lid in hand.  "There we go.   Now what?"

"Now you're going to want to carefully unplug those wires from that box, and hope we can hotwire it to whatever power source you brought with you."

"Hotwire?"

"Uh... That's a term basically meaning to bypass an ignition or relay point."

"Gotcha."

Eli shuffled back over and watched as the builder dropped the wrench back into her toolbox and dragged over one of the duffel bags they'd carried down; inside was the familiar gleam of power stones (thank the Three that THOSE had persisted through the centuries) held within a metal bracket with wires and switches attached.  Selene handed the cobbled together device to Eli before ducking back inside the open panel to examine and remove the plugs.

She didn't recognize the plug ends on the device but that wouldn't matter much so long as they had a means to strip the wires and solder them together.  Definitely wouldn't be the first time she'd had to wire something on the fly like this - it'd be sloppy and slightly dangerous but if it worked it worked.

The builder pulled back out a moment later with a handful of wires and Eli waited as she carefully threaded them through and under the other components of the computer until she had about three feet of wire length freed from all the little clasps and hooks that had held everything neatly in place; as Selene handled the wires she smudged away the dust and Eli began picking out individual wires by color -- that one was for the cooling system, that one for a display (still needed to figure out that part), the thickest one was for the console entirely, there were two that powered the input devices on this end...that last thin black-looking one had to be for an on-board audio input/output system.

Bare minimum she'd need power to the console, the cooling system, and the audio (they wouldn't need the keyboard or buttons since there wasn't a screen to work off of - that would be less drain and strain on the power stones at least.  The device Selene had put together held four of the yellow condensed power stones together in a completed circuit; she was glad to see the yellow ones since if it had been blue or lower they'd need way more to have any hope of powering a console this large. Four...MIGHT be enough.  They'd have to see.

"Right, now - do you have a wire stripper?"

"A -- I use a sharpened part of my wire snips for that.  Is that ok?"

Eli nodded.  "Should work - cut the wires right at the base of the plug then clear off about a half inch of the coating.  Does solder still exist?"

"Yep.  I'm guessing I'll be doing the same to the plugs on my portable power device, right?"

"Correct."

Eli held the ends of the wires steady as Selene snipped and stripped, then sorted them out and lined up ends of wires so the builder woman could slowly solder them all together without having to juggle tools and align ends (strangely, she was using a mini welding torch to melt the solder...well, whatever, it was working).  When they were all connected Eli searched over the device until she found the on/off switch and flicked it on.

There was a loud crackling noise out of the console's speaker, causing everyone to jump; after a few more bursts of static there came a series of pleasant tones and then a low chime before-

"-Laboratory Assistant AI, online."  The voice was feminine and robotic - most AIs tended to have that metallic-like quality to their voices so that wasn't out of the ordinary at least.

Eli briefly glanced around - the others were staring down at the console as buttons and the slots lit up across its surface.  "-state your designation and assigned task category, please."

There was a tiny stutter and staticky noise again.  "I am known as Pauline.  My assigned tasks were to monitor laboratory experiments, issue instructions to medical assistant AI systems, provide back up storage for all experiment-related documentation, and record all meeting minutes and conversations that take place within my designated region within this facility.  May I ask who I'm speaking to?  I seem to be having trouble with my optics and my sensors beyond this immediate station are offline."

Eli carefully moved the power device out of her lap and onto the floor near her feet.  "I am Ranger Captain Elizabeth Summers.  Do you have me registered in your system?"

"Let me check...  I have you registered on the patient roster, ma'am."

"But nowhere else?"

"No."

Eli nodded - she had expected that.  "All right.  I need you to register me as primary administrative contact for this entire facility."

"I can't do that without prior administrative permissions from the All Source AI of the facility, ma'am.  Please wait a moment -- oh dear. My chronometer says I have been offline for 25 years, 8 months, 12 days, 2 hours, and 36 minutes.  Auxiliary power is offline."

"I know.  And unfortunately I am the only surviving member of this facility so I will need that administrative access."

"Please give me a moment to verify such a claim, ma'am - I do apologize for the delays in my responses.  I don't have the needed power level to run at full speed."

"Move as fast as you can safely process, Pauline.  We're in a dire situation.  While checking your logs run a cursory maintenance check on yourself for any data corruption."

"Yes ma'am."

The AI went quiet and Eli could hear a low whine from somewhere inside the console - age, dust, and the relative power level of the power stones were definitely putting a strain on Pauline's processor cores but there wasn't anything they could do about that at the moment.

"-I'm detecting no internal corruption.  I am showing that 115 years, 3 months, 6 days, 14 hours, and 16 minutes ago the auxiliary power systems came online .0034 seconds after the primary reactor went offline.  My logs indicate a connection failure between relay box 5372A-2 and 6981-B17, which placed undue stress on connected sectors and radiated out to effect the entire northeastern quadrant of floors 19 through 47.  As a precaution the reactor was closed off from the rest of the facility but it doesn't appear anyone answered the maintenance request."

At that Eli let out a huge sigh and leaned back against the wall behind her, feeling lightheaded with relief.  If it was a connection failure then the safety measures purposely took the reactor offline.   That meant they were in no danger of anything exploding.  At everyone's looks she gave them a smile and two thumbs up.  "That means we're in the clear - no explosion worries."

All at once an unseen tension melted from the room and the rest of them looked as relieved as she felt.

"Thank goodness," Xu sighed.

"Oh.  I didn't realize there were more than one user present," Pauline interrupted.  Xu seemed surprised that the AI had heard him as he'd been barely above a whisper.  "Please identify yourselves."

"They're not anyone registered with this facility, Pauline," Eli replied before anyone else could.  "Please search back through your logs and tell me what happened prior to the relay failure."

"One moment."

As they waited Xu dropped down to his knees beside Eli, gingerly resting a hand on her shoulder.  "How are you doing?" he asked - this time he WAS whispering, and Pauline either didn't detect it or was too preoccupied with her task to respond.

She smiled faintly at him.  "Like I want to fall over, but in a good way.  Knowing we're not going to explode any time soon is a big relief, and now we're in no rush to do anything down here."

Xu frowned.  "You're still recovering, exhaustion is to be expected."

Eli briefly clapped her hand to his on her shoulder.  "I'll be fine for a bit longer, doctor.  Don't worry about me."

His fingers carefully squeezed but his look of concern didn't budge; there WAS a creeping ache born out of tiredness coming over her but she didn't actually feel on the verge of collapse.  She glanced around and saw Arlo looking at her with the same concerned look on his face - Selene and Sam were both focused on the computer console at least.

"Ma'am, I am ready to provide my log report."

She returned her attention to the console as well even though there wasn't anything to actually look at.  "Go ahead, Pauline."

"Approximately 329 years, 7 months, 27 days, 10 hours, 12 minutes ago, I am showing that the facility went into emergency lock-down with the lock-down tagged with 'status: invader, armed, dangerous.'   Approximately 26 minutes later I am showing a mass evacuation of registered users leaving the building though the roster indicates there were 115 people unaccounted for based on automatic logging at all exit points.  3 minutes after the evacuation the 'hazardous material release protocol' broadcast issued."

"This place was attacked?" Arlo asked into the silence that followed Pauline's report.

"It would seem so, Unknown User Male A.  I do not have any further information beyond what is contained in the logs however.  For more detail you would need to speak to the All Source AI of this facility and I do not detect him online."

Arlo blinked at the AI's words; Eli inwardly laughed -- assistant or administrative AIs always gave odd designations to users they weren't familiar with.  "When did he go offline?"

"Checking.  -- when auxiliary power went offline."

Selene straightened where she sat, looking up to Arlo.  "The auxiliary power went out right as we rescued Eli -- that All Source hasn't been offline for long."

"Correct, Unknown User Female A," Pauline responded.  "The All Source AI has priority when there is any power issue.  As auxiliary power reached critical levels all non-essential services were disabled, followed by non-essential sectors, then I was put into standby and then deactivated completely to preserve what remaining power was present when auxiliary power dropped below 20% - unfortunately this means I am reliant on passively obtained system logs at this time and my access to those is hindered due to alarmingly low system power."

Arlo blew out a sigh.  "I can't believe there's another All Source here...  We had enough trouble protecting the first one we found."

Pauline's tone shifted from the pleasantly proper one she'd been using to one that had a tinge of amusement to it.  "Of course there's an All Source AI here - it would be silly to have a facility of this size and importance without one."

"An All Source AI is just a central AI that controls and coordinates a system of lesser AIs," Eli said, glancing up to Arlo again.  "Even every house had one."

"Indeed!" Pauline chirped, sounding pleased.  "And Stewart is quite a pleasant AI - I look forward to interfacing with him again.  It's been a very long time.  -- ma'am, considering the situation I have decided to give you full adminstrative access to all protocols, sectors, and documentation that are registered as being within my job designation.   Further access will need to be provided by Stewart."

"Got it," Eli replied.  There was a burning starting behind her eyes and she rubbed a finger in one idly, trying to encourage it to water a little bit.  "Pauline, we're going to leave you hooked up to this current emergency power.  Can you tell how long before it'll run out?"

"Checking... I estimate the current power source attached to my system will last approximately 6 days, 4 hours, and 19 minutes."

"Is that at your current activity level or without activity factored in at all?"

"With activity.  If I put myself back into standby my estimation goes up to 14 days, 19 hours, and 47 minutes."

"Good enough.  I want you to put yourself into standby and only awaken on the command of myself, or one of the the four people currently here with me.  I'm going to have them state their names - get a voice imprint for your access logs."

"Yes ma'am!"

Slowly draining energy was something Eli had in common with the AI; she pressed her back fully against the wall and pointed a finger at Xu, then to Selene, followed by Sam and then to Arlo.  "In that order, go.   All you need is your name."

"Uh...Dr. Xu?" Xu said, sounding as uncertain as he looked; Eli gave him an approving nod and dropped her gaze to Selene.

"Selene!"

"Sam."

"Arlo."

After everyone had had their turn there was a brief period of silence before Pauline responded.  "Users: Dr. Xu, Selene, Sam, and Arlo voice imprints registered. A pleasure to place names with voices.  If that's all then I'll place myself on standby and await future orders."

"That'll be all, Pauline.  We'll be back later."

The glow of the buttons all dimmed to barely noticeable and the whine of processors faded; Eli closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.   The anxiety from not knowing the reactor's status had been mostly keeping her alert and on her feet - anxiety and adrenaline both, really - and now that she knew they were in the clear she was approaching a point where all she wanted was a warm blanket and a relatively clean horizontal surface to stretch out on.

Again there was a hand on the shoulder; she opened her eyes to find Xu had dropped down beside her on his knees.  His other hand moved to her wrist where his fingers found her pulse.  "Are you feeling all right?"

"Just tired, doctor.  Don't need to be so tightly strung now that I know we're not going boom."

Xu nodded and looked from her to Arlo.  "Let's get back to the surface and to the clinic.  It seems we're done here."

"Right," Arlo said; he stepped down from the dais to give Sam room to get out of his way, then he came back up and offered both hands to Eli.

She hated how her hands were shaking as she reached up to take them, and with Xu at one side and Arlo pulling up both men got her on her feet; before she could reach for her cane Arlo swept her up into his arms, carefully adjusting his grip so his fingers weren't pinched against the backs of her knees.  Xu had her cane in hand and was following close at Arlo's elbow as he turned to carry her toward the elevator.

"Sam, if Selene wants to poke around stay with her, all right?" Arlo called over his shoulder (he was considerate enough to shout it over the shoulder opposite from the one Eli's head was currently drooping toward - she appreciated that, even if it rubbed her the wrong way to have to rely on someone carrying her to get out of here).

As they walked away Eli could hear Selene giving Sam instructions on securing the exposed wires; she closed her eyes again and focused on keeping her head upright as the three of them got into the elevator and began the long walk back to the surface.

So far as she could recall Dubei had 47 research centers within the capital -- most of those were tech-based but 13 she was certain had been strictly medical research.  The problem with that was she could recall all the numbers she wanted but she still had no means of matching where they all were on Dubei's map to try and mentally overlay that to what the land looked like now.

 Don't think about it.

'What kind of damn war could alter the landscape to such a degree...' she found herself thinking.  It would've need to be one hell of a war to have removed Dubei from the map like this.

 Don't think about it.

Her eyes started watering.  It didn't help the aching, burning feeling behind them.  

After a bit she felt the first hints of a cold wind blowing down the entry-point elevator shaft, and then sunlight hit her eyelids; Arlo's boots thumped across the wooden platform underneath her as he carried her out to the horses.

"You get up first, doctor - I'll hand her up and you can ride together back to town."

Eli could do little aside from wait to be passed from one man to the other; Xu wasn't willing to go faster than a walk with the horse so the trip back to town took longer than the trip out this morning had, but that was all right -- the cold woke her up a bit so she was able to slide down from the saddle with Phyllis's help once they were back in the clinic, and then with Xu on one side and Phyllis on the other she was helped back inside and to the bed she was becoming incredibly familiar with.

"Are you in any pain?"

"Minor headache, doctor - just tired."

"Do you feel you'll be hungry after you rest?" Phyllis asked then, helping her get her boots and coat off.

Eli shook her head and fumbled her legs up into the bed, and Phyllis pulled the blanket up as she sank into the pillow and shortly after she was out like a snuffed candle. When she woke there was still daylight coming in through the clinic's windows so she couldn't have been out for long.

'Not nearly so long as...as the last big sleep I took...'

Her eyes started burning again, and watering; with an irritated huff she scrubbed the back of her hand across them to smear the moisture away.

From nearby she heard the rustling of paper.  "-are you all right, Eli?"

"Yeah, doc - bad dream, is all.  Just a really bad dream."

[kr210]

The First Friend

Chapter two of Yakumo Sakura’s life where she meets her friend first that will join her journey through life, love, and friendship. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kai and Bai were both against it. It had only been a year since Sakura’s accident and she was turning eleven that year. They still wanted to keep her home where they could protect her and home school her. 

Sakura on the other hand was completely against it. She was ready to return to school after dropping out due to her parents death and the car accident. It had taken her nine months to relearn how to walk and over a whole year to finally catch up with her school work. Thankfully her school was very understanding thanks to a large donation. Finally it took 16 months before Sakura could finally get back to training and doing anything remotely athletic. 

After plenty of debate and retesting Yakumo Sakura would be returning to her private all girls primary school. Her goal was to be ready to enter Namimori Middle School in a year. She wanted to stop having a shelter life and live like a normal kid. Even the therapist agreed that it would help with her grief if she could continue to live like a normal child. Well as normal as a Yakuza Princess could live. 

Kai was now her new guardian while his twin brother was her emergency contact. Her Father really had thought of everything for her daughter in the event of his death. He had already made Nakama Kai her legal guardian and left his business to her with Kai as the advisor until she was ready. There was also a trust fund for her that she could access as soon as she turned 16 but Kai was kind of enough to use the money to buy her whatever she needed. 

~~~~

The first day back was exciting for the princess. She had been looking forward to getting things back to normal and getting back to school. Her guardian Kai dropped her off at the front gate in their town car and reminded her that he would be waiting for her around the corner so not to block the gate for the other students. She partly ignored him as she got out of the car joining her fellow students shuffling into the campus. 

Right away the short brown hair girl followed the students towards the bulletin board to see what class she was in. She found her name quickly and smiled. This was a small sign that she should be back in school and that she had made the right decision on returning. The princess made her way into the school and changed her outdoor shoes to her indoor ones and headed up to the third floor looking for classroom 5-A. 

Once she found her classroom she opened the door to realize one thing. She had been missing school for a year and half and there were already little clicks and groups. Another issue was that she didn’t remember anyone that was in her class. Awkwardly she walked over to her assigned seat in the back and sat there quietly seeing how she didn’t know anyone in the class. As more students filed in, Sakura kept feeling more and more awkward. 

At the first break she chose to play on her phone and ignore what was going on around her. It was okay because no one talked to her let alone approached her. After all she had been gone a year and rumors had spread despite knowing the truth. At lunch she couldn’t take it and got up leaving the classroom. 

She found herself eating her lunch alone on the side of the building under some trees. It was quiet as the student stretched out her legs. The cool breeze blew her hair to the side causing her to close her eyes. “I need to get used to this. Being a Yakuza leader means being alone. Father was alone. He only used mother to have an heir.” she reasoned with herself. 

About to come to terms about this, she was interrupted by some other girl’s voices. “Come on Hinamori” was heard. Sakura knew that name. She was a girl in her class. An annoyed look was plastered on her face as she stood up. “You said you had money to buy us all lunch today. So cough it up”  a different voice said. “I don’t have it. I can get it for you tomorrow” the Hinamori student pleaded. A loud slapping sound was heard along with a loud thump then some laughing. 

“You’re so stupid. You really think that we don’t know you have money” the tallest girl said pulling Hinamori up by her collar. “Let her go,” Sakura said, folding her arms over her chest. The girls raised an eyebrow at her. “Who the hell do you think you are?” The first voice girl sized up Sakura. This girl had blond curly hair that looked like she was trying to pull off the beach look. She was fit but Sakura knew she could take her. Normally she would introduce herself but bullying didn’t qualify for a reason to give her name. “I said let her go” Sakura’s voice was calm but stern. These girls didn’t scare her at all. If anything she was afraid of seriously hurting them with her training. 

The beach girl stalked over to the Cherry Blossom. “Hey brat I’d suggest backing off and leaving this to us. After all, you're the outsider. Missing for 18 months. You don’t belong here anymore” she talked down to her. Her hand went to shove Sakura but she was faster. Instead she took the beach girl’s wrist and easily used her weight against her making her fall face first into the floor. “Please restrain yourself from touching me with your filthy hands”” Sakura countered, talking down to her now. 

The second girl turned her attention to Sakura now. Even the leader was surprised by her boldness. Hinamori was left to cower against the side of the building staring in awe of Sakura. The second girl had straight black hair that looked greasy. “You little…” but she was cut off by Sakura slamming her open palm against her chin then in a flash punched the girl in her stomach causing her to kneel over in pain. 

Hinamori was in shock that some random classmate would help her. Sakura on the other hand turned her attention to the leader. “I will not repeat myself a third time” she warned her stalking over to her this time. The leader staggered slightly scared. WIthout a word she turned away leaving her henchmen there and heading back into the main building of the school. 

Sakura let out a sigh of relief. She really didn’t want to get into a fight on the first day back after being gone for so long. “Um…” Sakura blinked and looked at the cowering girl on the ground. “Thank you” Sakura’s face twitched. “Don’t be so weak next time” she commented and headed back to the classroom. The lunch break would be over soon. 

The rest of the school day went pretty easy. People continued to ignore her until the end of school As she was switching her shoes she felt someone watching her.The little yakuza princess rolled her eyes thinking it was the bullies from earlier and that they were going to jump her after school. Shet took a deep breath mentally preparing to fight her out. Proudly and with a strut in her step she walked towards the main gate. 

A small smile graced her face when she saw Kai waiting for her at the gate. She increased her step and was about to escape when someone stepped right in front of her. “Shoot” Sakura thought as she instinctively stepped back and took a fighting stance. “You’re Yakumo-san right?” Sakura blinked surprised to see it was the same girl she had helped at lunch and not the bullies. “Yes?” She confirmed her identity and lowered her stance. “I was so nervous to approach you. You look so cool despite being in a school uniform.” There were stars in her eyes. “Okay.” Sakura was still confused as to why this girl was talking to her. “I’m Hinamori Yuna.” she said excitedly. “I’m in class B and I wanted to thank you for helping me out today at lunch,” Hinamori continued. Sakura nodded. 

Hinamori was about to continue when a deep male voice interrupted them. “Sakura-sama we need to go.” Sakura held back a sigh of relief. “I’m ready,” she commented, stepping away from Hinamori and getting ready to head hom. “Oh...um...It was nice to meet you Yakumo-san” she ended the conversation. Sakura nodded to her and followed Kai out. 

Kai held the car door open for her as the princess got in. He shut the door then headed over to the driver's seat. Sakura looked out the window at the gate to see Hinamori walking where she assumed home. Kai noticed this in a rear view mirror. “Is the girl you were talking to a new friend?” he asked her. “No.” Sakura said not even looking at him. “I helped her out at lunch due to bullies and she ambushed me after school,” Sakura explained. Kai looked worried and Sakura noticed this when she glanced at the mirror to see his expression. “Don’t worry. I didn’t really fight anyone. Mostly disabled the girls.” she shared. Kai nodded pleased with this answer. “Well it sounds like you had a nice day” he told her. The princess nodded her head. 

The next day at school Sakura was surprised to see Hinamori waiting outside the gate. She took a breath and continued on towards the main entrance of the school. At least that’s what she hoped until Hinamori started walking next to her seeming nervous. “Good morning Yakumo-san” she greeted her. “Morning,” Sakura said back. She glanced at her and sighed. “Why are you walking with me?” she asked her. Hinamori’s eyes shifted. “Well...those girls from yesterday are waiting for me and they seem afraid of you” she commented. Sakura glanced at her. “Okay....and?” she asked. “Well I was hoping you wouldn’t mind walking with me in. I promise I’ll be quiet” she begged. 

Sakura signed and went over to her locker to switch out her shoes. As she was switching them out she looked at Hinamori. “You do know that the best way to deal with bullies is to stand up to them.” she told her trying to get her off her case. “Yes but when I did that they attacked me like they did you yesterday” she tried to explain. Sakura frowned as she shut her locker. Hinamori led her to her locker so she could switch her shoes as well. “Don’t you have any other friends that could help you? Yesterday I just happened to be there.” she commented as Hinamori changed her shoes. 

Hinamori looked down and frowned. “I don’t have many friends,” she commented. “My friends were those bullies.” she then told her. Sakura sighed and leaned against the lockers. “You are interesting, Hinamori,” Sakura said. “Yuna” Hinamori corrected her. Sakura glanced at her and was surprised to see the girl smiling and happy. “If you are going to use my name please call me Yuna. I want to be your friend Yakumo-san” she said. Sakura scoffed. “Then you should use my first name as well,” Sakura said smiling. The stars in Hinamori’s eyes appeared again as she shut her locker and held Sakura’s hands smiling. “I am so glad to have you as a friend Sakura-chan!” she said excitedly. Sakura blinked, chuckled and nodded her head, “Me too Yuna” 

~~~~~

Yakumo Sakura spent two years at the private all girl’s academy with her friend, Hinamori Yuna. They had gotten really close and had plenty of sleepovers at both girl’s houses. They often hung out after school, would often go to the local cake shop, and even go shopping together. 

Yuna’s parents felt sorry for Sakura’s family history and would have her often when Yuna wanted her over. On school breaks, Sakura’s guardians would invite the HInamori’s over to special vacation spots which only made the girls have an even closer relationship. Kai and Bai were both happy that Sakura was doing well and was happy with her new friend. Before the girls knew it they were in their final year of middle school. 

One day in the homeroom the teacher talked about middle schools. It was their last year there and they would either transfer to the sister school for all girl’s middle school or Namimori Middle school. The all girls private school tried to encourage the girls to attend the all girls private middle school. Although Yuna and Sakura were going to Namimori Middle School. Yuna to get away from the bullies and attend a school that was more diverse and easier on her parent’s budget. Sakura on the other hand would be attending the public school due to the fact that she wanted to go with Yuna, her only friend. Yuna’s parents were also thankful because it meant that when they had to work late, their daughter could stay at her friend’s house safely. 

Their teacher finished explaining about two schools and handed each student a sheet of paper. The students were required to write down which school they were going to and what they would like to do when they grow up. Sakura smiled when she got her paper. She obviously wrote down Namimori middle school and when she grows up she wrote “Something with business”. Yuna wrote Namimori Middle school as well but what she wanted to be growing was a teacher. 

The girls finished their final year of primary school with a strong note. Both had graduated with the top 50 of their classes. Yuna was rank 45 and Sakura was ranked 7 of their class. Over the summer the girls had plenty of sleepovers, a vacation together, and a back to school shopping trip. Before they knew it spring had arrived and the girls would be getting ready for their first year at Namimori Middle School.