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starshine583 · 4 years ago

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New Girl on the Block (13)

(Happy Valentine’s Day everybody!!! I’d say that this is a gift for the day, but this is my usual update time lol please enjoy the new chapter anyway! There’s also a mini series connected to this called Journal Entries :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.12 / Ch.14 (ao3)

Chapter 13: I’ll Make You a Deal

Lila stalked the halls of Dupont, doing her best to hide her scowl as she massaged her temples. When she offered to take Marinette’s job as Class President, she hadn’t realized how much extra work she was dumping onto herself. She thought that the title was just that: a title. Nothing more. Nothing less. Sure, she would have to verify a few things, acknowledge her classmates’ opinions towards the school system, and speak out about it as a representative towards them, but that was all. She didn’t expect it to rearrange her entire schedule towards life! Her head was pounding from the late nights of filing student complaints, her back ached from carrying this stupid binder around, and her wrist still twinged with pain from signing too many papers at once. It was ridiculous!

Lying to Bustier about those forms didn’t make it any easier either. Instead of getting to make minor additions to the papers Marinette had already written, she now had to rewrite all of the forms herself. The entire process was a nightmare, and Lila couldn’t escape. If she lied again and said that Marinette gave the forms back, that would be glorifying the girl, and she refused to do that. However, if she lied and said that she simply found the forms again, it would not only make her look suspicious, but also incompetent. She couldn’t have either of those descriptions attached to her person.

So, that left her with the agonizing option of filling them out again herself. She tried to push it onto Alya, and for the most part, she succeeded. The red-head filled out a good half before handing them back, but that still left Lila with the other half. Thus, she’s spent the last three nights in a row doing nothing but signing form after form after form. The fact that she had to use Marinette’s forms as reference only made it worse. She could practically hear the ravenette laughing at her every time she glanced over the original paperwork. It was utterly humiliating.

And don’t get her started on the amount of requests or complaints that she had to file. Everyday her classmates came to her asking for this or that or “could you change this about our classroom?”. Sometimes they would talk about the seats being too hard or the fact that they didn’t have enough recess or how the stairs were too far apart and someone could trip. Then- oh, then -there were the class trips. One request was a literal trip to Greece. Greece! Did they think she or the school was just made of money? How can they possibly be this greedy or entitled? How was Marinette able to handle it all so easily? She made it look like it was nothing!

Lila clenched her fists at her side, her nails digging into her skin. Even after running from the school with her tail between her legs, Marinette was still acting as a sharp, irritating thorn in Lila’s side.

Sparkling laughter interrupted her thoughts, and Lila turned to the two boys standing outside of the library entrance. Adrien Agreste, the golden child of the school, and Nino, his little sidekick- as far as Lila was concerned -appeared to be chatting mindlessly on their way back to class, which was typical. Adrien was always talking with somebody now-a-days. That was another problem of hers.

When Marinette first left, Adrien became distraught and distant. He began muttering to himself and not listening in class, dismissing everyone with a hum and a nod. The other students berated him for the behavior, wonderfully captured in Lila’s beautifully crafted web of words, but he hardly heard them. Or if he did, he didn’t care. He continued to write things in his notebook that certainly weren’t lesson notes and run his hand through his hair with frustration when he hit some sort of wall.

It was irritating, of course, but nothing Lila hadn’t expected. Marinette was supposed to be his “very good friend”, after all. She would have been surprised if he hadn’t mourned the loss. What she didn’t anticipate, though, was the way he bounced back.

It had to have happened a little over two weeks after Marinette left, because Lila remembered finally starting to feel comfortable in her new role of being able to lie unchallenged. She was spewing some crap about Marinette sending her mean messages, making sure her tears looked real enough and her sobs were believable, when Adrien decided to jump into the conversation. He flashed her a bright smile and, in the kindest voice she’d ever heard, asked her for the texts that Marinette had sent.

The question alone had surprised her, considering the fact that he hadn’t really spoken to anyone in a while, but that smile he held was really the thing to set her on edge. It was simply too sweet-looking for someone who had just indirectly asked for proof of her story, especially when they both knew that she was lying.

She couldn’t understand the change. He’d been cowering in the corner for the last two weeks, and yet that day, he was out for blood on her account. Why? What was the difference between the last two weeks and that day? She still doesn’t know.

Adrien’s determination towards outing her cranked up to eleven after that . He went from barely talking to one person throughout the day to talking with everyone on a constant basis, and anytime Lila so much as uttered a sentence, he was there asking questions. When did she do this, who helped her with that, how did she manage to get from one place to the other so quickly- from a naïve onlooker’s point of view, Adrien would simply appear to be interested in Lila’s stories, but she knew better. He was finding holes in her stories and using them to rip apart her words piece by piece, all while using an innocent yet confused expression to make it seem like he was trying to help her. The strategy was completely different from Marinette’s, and it ticked Lila off to no end. How was she supposed to turn crowds against him and regain her throne if he kept acting like some pure-hearted angel?

She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t, and he knew that she couldn’t, because that’s the exact same tactic that eventually got Marinette to leave the school.

A part of her had hoped that this newfound passive-aggression would fade after a few days, but now that three weeks of constant badgering on Adrien’s account has passed, that hope has been thoroughly and relentlessly crushed. He hasn’t done much over those weeks, thankfully, but she’s had to reinforce her lies ten times the normal amount to keep it that way. That’s a tad hard to do when all of your stories are on the grand scale of things.

Even with her meticulous planning and words choices, though, one can’t escape subtle confrontation forever. She could tell that people were slowly starting to become suspicious of her stories. They were either wanting Adrien to be around during their discussions with her or were looking for holes themselves.

Watching them exchange glances during her stories made her blood boil. Why did they have to be so nosy? So picky? Can’t she have a reprieve for once in her entire life? Can’t she just lie and manipulate others without the fear of getting caught? Why did that feel like such a big request from the universe?

Adrien and Nino waved to each other, and Lila perked up. It looked like they were separating. Were they separating? Oh, please be separating. That would be the most convenient thing to happen to her all month.

Adrien split off from Nino, to her delight, and Lila beelined after the blond. His meddling had gone on long enough, and she thought it was high time someone put an end to it. That someone being her.

“Adrien!” Lila cooed, looping her arm with his and flashing a bright smile. “It’s been forever since we’ve talked just one on one, don’t you think?”

Adrien’s steps faltered, and for the briefest of moments, she saw his eyes darken. Nobody else would have noticed, especially not with the friendly smile he gave her right after, but Lila caught it. She was the only one who realized how truly despicable the model could be.

“Oh, hey Lila.” He replied with an easy, clearly fake smile. “I guess we haven’t talked alone in a while. You normally like to be at the center of the crowd.”

Lila tried not to grit her teeth and instead elected to flip her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say the center. I’m just being myself, and the others seem to follow.”

Adrien hummed. “Yes, I’m sure you're a wonderful role model for all of us. It isn’t everyday we get the courtesy of having an honest and kind friend like you.”

His sarcasm was palpable, but his shining smile remained. A part of her wondered why he even bothered acting at this point. They both knew they were at war now. Niceties were only necessary when someone was clueless towards hidden motives. Adrien wasn’t, and neither was she, yet here they were. Smiling and trading snide remarks in the privacy of the empty locker room.

Lila put on a bashful expression. “Oh, please-”

“Of course,” Adrien interrupted her, “there was also Marinette. She was always ready to help someone. It’s a shame she had to transfer schools.”

Lila bit the inside of her cheek to avoid sneering. There he goes again, mentioning that ridiculous baker girl. It’s so infuriating.

“Even though she was a bully? I’m sorry, Adrien, but I don’t think you should forgive someone so easily. They’ll walk all over you if you give them too much leeway.”

Adrien slipped- or rather jerked -his arm out of Lila’s grasp as he exchanged some of his books. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Ah, there it is. That might have been the first genuine comment he’s made during this discussion.

“What was that?” She asked with feigned politeness.

Adrien straightened and gave her another innocent smile. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if this could all be a big misunderstanding? The phone number that was terrorizing you wasn’t Marinette’s, after all. If you were.. mistaken.. on that story, perhaps you missed something in your other stories. Don’t you think so?”

Lila forced a smile so wide that her cheeks started to hurt. Was this his way of giving her an out? A last chance of mercy? Because if it was, she refused to take it. She’s built this kingdom with nothing but her bare hands, and she’d be darned if she decided to lie down and let him take it away just as quickly.

“I can’t say I do.”

Adrien closed his locker, a certain glint coming to his eyes when he looked at her. “Well.. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what I find. Won’t we?”

Rage crackled through Lila’s bones as Adrien walked past her, but she caught herself before doing anything rash. If she was going to counter Adrien’s sudden attacks, she needed to make a deal with him and get him off of her back just long enough to plan. And to do that, she needed to promise him what he apparently wanted most.

“What if it wasn’t her?”

Adrien stopped in the doorway, and Lila held her breath.

“..Because it wasn’t her,” he corrected, “I’ll be hoping that she comes back.”

Lila drew in a deep breath, if only to avoid screaming. Marinette, Marinette, Marinette- Why did he have to have to be so infatuated with Marinette? What could she possibly have that made Adrien want to fight against the whole school to get her back?

“Alright..” She said, completely calm. “Say you were right. If it happened to turn out that Marinette wasn’t the one responsible and I convince her to come back, will we all be able to get along?”

Bile rose to her mouth as she spoke. The very thought of running back to Marinette and asking her to come back to Dupont made Lila’s stomach churn, but this was fine. She was only promising to bring Marinette back. Promises can easily be broken.

Adrien smiled, but not like the fake, warm smiles he’d been giving her throughout their conversation. No, this one was sharp, predatory, as though he could see right through her words.

“See you in class, Lila.”

The “golden child” left the locker room then, and Lila finally gave in to her frustration and let out a growl. This was supposed to be her victory, her turf, and yet she can’t even enjoy it anymore because Adrien freaking Agreste decided to meddle in business that wasn’t his. He knew that the only reason she was willing to compromise was because he was getting to her, and that burned her up inside.

She drew in another deep breath and smoothed out her miniature ponytails. This was fine. Everything was fine. Adrien might be deciding to join the squabble a tad later than usual, but Lila invented this game. If he wanted to try his hand at her tactics and strategies, fine. He would soon realize why she was able to climb to the top in the first place.

~~~~~~~

Marinette stared out the car window with awe as they drove up the street towards Allegra’s estate. In the week that led to the group sleepover, Marinette had racked her brain day and night trying to decide what the mansion would be like. How tall would it be? How wide? Would it take up an entire street or a small square of Paris like Gabriel’s? Would there be butlers running around like in the movies or would there be a simple maid or two to keep things moving? Perhaps there wouldn’t be any hired hand at all? The excitement and anticipation made her buzz and bounce through the last few school days at Rosemary, but she refused to ask any questions during the wait for winter break. Marinette wanted the mansion to be a complete surprise. And now that she was finally here, sitting in the backseat of Allegra’s miniature limo and practically pressing her face against the window, she couldn’t be happier with that decision.

Mansions of all kinds lined the sidewalks, bigger and more elegant than she could have ever imagined. Some had marvelous fountains, while others had incredible gardens. Some had amazing walls with ingrained art that lined the premises, and one mansion even had horses grazing on their front lawn! It made her wonder why Gabriel would build his mansion in the middle of the city, or if any of these mansions might belong to Claude, Allan, or Felix.

Near the end of the street rested a long brick wall that had elaborate, white statues decorating the major corners. Marinette guessed immediately that that was Allegra’s mansion, because the wall wrapped around an enormous white house that had silver railings for the balconies and blue-ish grey tiles for the rooftops, quite contrary to the golds and dark browns that came with the other mansions. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and that seemed like something Allegra would enjoy, even if the house belonged directly to her parents.

Sure enough, the car rolled to a stop in front of the black metal gate that the brick walls led to, and the driver told Marinette to stay put as he hopped out of the vehicle. She watched quietly as he unlocked the gate by hand using a personal key and quickly found herself wiggling in her seat when he started pushing the gates open. They were so close! Allegra’s mansion was right there! If they didn’t start moving again in two seconds, Marinette might just jump out and start running.

The driver got back into the car with a small apology for the inconvenience- to which she assured him that it was fine through barely contained squeals -and they continued through the gate at a leisure pace, which killed Marinette inside. She wanted to get into the mansion now!

In an effort to remain still, her eyes flicked around the front lawn of the estate. The driveway they had pulled into appeared to be a full circle, looping around an intricate water fountain that spouted bursts of water in such a way that made the water look as though it were dancing. Diamonds of dark green grass cut through the concrete in the driveway, leading to the rest of the vibrant grass on the lawn, and a delightful mix of bushes and flowers lined the inside of the brick wall as well the outside of the mansion. It struck Marinette as quaint and refined at the same time, and her respects went out to the person- or persons -responsible for designing and maintaining the look.

Finally, the limo parked in front of these wide, marble steps that led to the front door, and the driver barely had time to open Marinette’s back door before she leapt out with her bags in her arms. If the outside was this luxurious, she couldn’t wait to see how breathtaking the inside would be.

“Thanks for the ride, sir!” She called over her shoulder as she hopped up the steps two-by-two.

“Oh, miss-!” The man yelled after her. “May I take your bags?”

Marinette skidded to a halt and turned around, ready to politely decline his offer, when another voice spoke up behind her.

“No need, Louis! I’ve got them.”

Marinette whirled back around, coming face to face with Allegra, who was now standing in the doorway with a bright smile.

The blonde reached forward to take the bags with one hand, while giving Marinette a side hug with the other. “I’m so happy you’re here! This is going to be great.”

“I know! I’ve been waiting for this all week! Your house looks amazing.”

A grin spread across Allegra’s lips, and she pulled back from the hug in favor of grabbing Marinette’s hand. “If you like it now, just wait till you see the inside.”

The two girls waltzed inside together, but as soon as she entered, Marinette couldn’t help gasping and breaking away from Allegra to run further into the house. Tiled, marble floors stretched out before her, seemingly farther than the street she had just driven down, and on the other side of the bigger-than-life foyer was a set of large, open windows that touched from the floor of the first level to the ceiling of the second level. They overlooked the backyard, which was equally as enchanting as the front yard, and a part of her had the urge to sit down and stare at them wistfully for a good hour or two.

To her left and right were a pair of long, curved stairs that led to the second floor. They matched the marble tiles on the first floor and had beautiful, metal railings that curled and twisted into different types of flowers and leaves. The railing also trailed off to the open hallways above, where Marinette could see different types of doors lined up. Her restless brain wanted to skip up the stairs, brush her hand across the smooth, black railing, and explore each and every room possible.

Her gaze dragged up to the ceiling, and her jaw fell slack yet again as she realized exactly how high the building was. The circular sunroof that signified the center of the ceiling felt higher than the Eiffel Tower itself, and Marinette was certain that if she called out, it would take at least five seconds to hear her voice echoing back to her.

“Well?” Allegra asked next to her. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Marinette blanched. “Allegra, this is incredible! Do you really live here?”

A musical laugh came from the blonde, and she nodded. “Yep. Ever since I was five. Come on, I’ll give you a tour!”

They made their way to the stairs, and Marinette eagerly ran her hand across the cool railings as she continued to look around. She couldn’t believe how astonishing everything looked. It was as though they’d taken the finest jewels and rocks on earth and merged them together to create this mansion. How did they even afford all of this?

“What did you say your mom did again?”

Allegra glanced over at her. “My mom? She’s a-”

“Hey!”

The two girls paused mid step and looked up at the open hallway. Claude stood just above them, leaning over the railing and waving with a wide grin. Allan stood behind him, also offering the girls a friendly smile as a greeting.

“Is that Marinette?” Claude called.

“Yep! She just got here.”

“Sweet!” The brunette cheered. He dashed from his place upstairs and, once he got a good enough momentum, jumped to a stop, using his socks to slide the rest of the way to the stairwell. “We’ve been waiting forever for you to show up!”

Marinette giggled and ran up the rest of the stairway to give Claude a hug. “I got my clothes together as fast as I could.”

“Oh, you’re good.” Allan assured as he came to join them. “You’re technically early anyway.”

“I thought I was.” Marinette remarked, pulling away from Claude to give Allan a small hug as well. “Is Felix here too?”

“Nope, it’s just us right now.” Claude answered with a smile. “We already had clothes here from previous sleepovers.”

“They practically have their own personal closets at this point.” Allegra snorted. Then, she gave Marinette a playful nudge. “And soon, so will you.”

Marinette smiled. She wasn’t sure that she even had enough clothes to fill another closet, but it didn’t stop her from feeling giddy towards receiving one. Having a personal closet at Allegra’s meant she would be coming over much more often, and that was something she desperately wanted to do at this point.

“Have you shown her around yet?” Claude asked.

“Nope. I was gonna show her my room first, though, so I can put her bags down in there.”

“Oh, good idea.” The brunette remarked, taking the opportunity to snag Marinette’s bags from Allegra’s hands. “Let’s go! You’re gonna love it, Mari.”

With everyone together- save for Felix -the group eagerly clambered down the hallway that Claude and Allan had previously been in. The black railway from the staircase continued to twist down the hall next to Marinette, and when it finally stopped at a wall, Claude stopped at a doorway to his right. Glittering stickers arched across the door, spelling out the word “Allegra”.

“Those are from when I was, like, nine.” Allegra commented, a hint of a blush on her cheeks as she opened her bedroom door.

Marinette was about to say that it was fine- she actually found the lettering to be endearing -but any form of words or replies were lost on her when she saw the bedroom for the first time.

Everything was covered in light purples and white, with occasional bits of gold and light blue to accent the room. An enormous, deep purple bed with swirling, golden patterns sat in the center, holding pillows that were bigger than Marinette’s bed alone and a comfort that looked fluffier than her warmest ear-muffs. A pair of blue, see-through curtains wrapped around the bed as well, reminding her of something a princess might own.

Across the room- which was twice the size of her little attic bedroom -were two white shelves that stretched from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. They held various things such as books, notebooks, miniature glass statues, and plenty of other trinkets that struck Marinette as charming. She wondered how long it must have taken Allegra to collect such things, or if she bought them all in one go as she decorated her room. There were even a few crystal wind-chimes hanging around the room.

“This is..” Marinette wasn’t sure what it was as she walked inside, star-struck. The girl even had her own chandelier, for Pete’s sake! Then there was the massive vanity with a million different types of eyeshadow- all aligned perfectly in an orderly fashion -and the massive desk on the other side of the room that had a fancy paperweight and a nice, little trinket to hold all of Allegra’s pencils and such for school. Don’t get her started on the chair hanging from the ceiling that looked equally fancy and comfortable.

“Do I really get to sleep in here?” She eventually asked instead. Words couldn’t describe her thoughts on the room or how it looked like something out of a daydream.

Allegra laughed. “Yep! We’re actually going to be spending most of the night here.”

“After we go swimming, of course.” Claude added as he set Marinette’s bags down in the walk-in closet.

Marinette’s eyes widened at the remark. She’d almost forgotten why she came here in the first place. “Where is the swimming pool?”

“It’s downstairs.” Allegra answered. “I can’t wait for you to see it. We have a water slide and everything.”

Marinette would have gasped, but after what she’s seen so far, she wouldn’t be surprised if they had their own personal zoo. “Can we go see it?”

“Absolutely!” The blonde smiled, looping her arm with Marinette’s. “But first, we need to finish our tour.”

The group made their way out of Allegra’s room and started exploring each door they passed. Claude, Allan, and Allegra took turns explaining each room’s purpose to Marinette, and she absorbed their words as best she could. Most of the time, though, she was lost in her thoughts, completely awed by the structure of the household.

Each room appeared to be bigger than the last, and some of them had Marinette nearly falling over from the amount of money that had to have gone into the décor. There were offices and dining halls and bigger bedrooms for Allegra’s parents. Then there were game rooms with pool tables and living rooms with couches that stretched around the entire room so everyone could see each other. Vases and sculptures lined the hallways and hid in the corners while extensive family portraits littered walls and held personal places on overly huge fireplaces.

In a word, the entire mansion was extravagant, especially for a three-person family, but despite the overwhelming amount of space, Marinette could feel the warmth and familial love of each room. A multitude of memories resided in the walls, and she couldn’t wait to hear all of them.

One room in particular caught her attention the most.

“What is this place?” Marinette asked as she walked into another wide-spread room. Musical instruments of all kinds littered the area- harps, violins, cellos, pianos, guitars, mandolins, and other things she couldn’t even name. They all appeared to be in mint condition, so clean that she could see her reflection in them, and the little kid in Marinette wanted to run around and try each one of them.

“This,” Allegra said next to her, “is our music room.”

“Music room..” Marinette whispered as her hand ran over a pair of literal bongos. “Can you actually play all of these?”

Claude snorted behind them. “She definitely wishes she could.”

Allegra scoffed and smacked his arm with a playful glare.

“No, I can’t play all of them.. But I’m working on it.”

“Wow.” Marinette muttered. That had to be time consuming. Where did she find the drive to keep practicing all of these?

“..Can I touch them?”

“Oh, yeah! Touch them all. Go crazy. I can even teach you how to play a little tune for some of them if you want.”

Marinette lit up. “Can you really?”

Allegra chuckled. “Of course. We have all night, don’t we?”

Marinette had to bite her tongue to avoid squealing again, and she promptly darted off to try everything she could. Any strings and keys would be briefly plucked and pressed before being cast away for the next instrument. She would thump on the drums and blow on the tubas and, occasionally, she would stop to try a few simple tunes on an instrument that sounded especially enchanting to her.

After about thirty minutes of this heaven- there were a lot of instruments -someone knocked on the doorframe at the front of the room, gathering the group’s attention.

A man with light brown hair stood in the doorway, offering an easy, yet apologetic smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Allegra, who had been teaching Marinette how to play the Panda Drum, hopped up from her position on the floor to greet him with a hug. “Not at all! I was just showing Marinette around the house. Mari, this is my dad, Arthur. Dad, this is Marinette, my friend from school that I’ve been telling you about.”

Marinette set the drum aside and stood up as well. “It’s nice to meet you, M. Chanson.”

“Oh, please.” M. Chanson held up a dismissive hand. “Just call me Arthur. Or even Uncle Arthur, if you like.”

A soft smile spread across Marinette’s lips, and she nodded. He sounded exactly like Maman when someone new came to their house.

“Anyway, I just came by to drop off the last bit of your group. He found me in the kitchen while looking for you.” Arthur said. He then stepped to the side to reveal none other than Felix, who had apparently been standing behind him the whole time.

Marinette perked up at the sight of the blond. “Oh, Felix! You’re here!”

“Here late.” Claude added with a smirk.

Felix shot him a look. “I’m not late. I told you all that I wouldn’t quite be here at the same time as everyone else.”

“Telling us that you’re going to be late doesn’t mean that you weren’t late.” Allegra pointed out. “It just means that you were considerate about your tardiness.”

Felix narrowed his eyes at her, knowing she was correct, and Marinette pursed her lips to avoid laughing, because she also knew that Allegra was correct.

“So I see you’ve been showing her my instruments?” Arthur cut in, redirecting the conversation.

Marinette’s eyes widened. “These are your instruments?”

Arthur chuckled. “Yep. In fact, I taught Allegra everything she knows.”

“You mean you can actually play all of them?”

“Well, some better than others,” The man responded with a half shrug, “but yeah. I’m honestly a little disappointed that A didn’t come get me when she showed you the room.”

Allegra winced. “Oh, sorry, Dad. I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“That’s amazing..” Marinette remarked, dumbfounded. She couldn’t imagine having enough memory to know how each individual instrument was played.

Arthur tilted his head back and forth with a hum. “I wouldn’t say amazing. A lot of these instruments are extremely similar to how they’re played, and at some point, once you’ve learned enough, you start to realize that a lot of music has a certain order to it. When you know that order, it makes playing a lot easier.”

“Oh, don’t be modest.” Allegra scolded. “Who else can play almost all of the instruments of the world and memorize any new instruments within a week?”

Before Arthur could respond, Allegra turned to Marinette with a proud smile and continued.

“Dad’s able to combine these instruments like no one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. It’s like he’s memorized every string, key, or chord possible! He’s even written songs for us too. Some of them are just funny little melodies to go with Claude’s acts, but others are full songs that he performs for me and Mom. Sometimes, when Mom’s stressed, he’ll sing or play for her to help her relax. I personally think that the songs he writes then are the best ones.”

The more she talked, the more bashful Arthur became, and Marinette couldn’t help cooing at the man. The thought of someone writing songs for the person they loved and singing them when that person felt down brought a wonderful warmth to her chest. It actually reminded her of another sweet boy she knew, one with blue-tipped hair and a smile that could melt the arctic.

“I have a friend like that.” She decided to say. Why not tell the others about him too? “He has a passion for the guitar and plays songs for me when I feel down too. It’s so calming.”

Something in her tone or expression must have caught their interest, because the group’s attention shifted from Allegra to Marinette in an instant. Before she could ask about the sudden change, Claude slipped an arm around her shoulders, flashing her a sly grin.

“Oh? A friend, you say?” He drawled. “You sound pretty fond of him. What’s his name?”

An involuntary blush crept across Marinette’s cheeks, more so at the implication in Claude’s voice than anything else. After two years of hanging around Alya, with her raised eyebrows and coy smiles, she could tell when someone was trying to accuse her of certain feelings towards another.

“O-Oh. uhm.. His name is Luka.”

“Luka..” Allegra hummed. “I’ve never heard you mention his name before.”

“And I’ve never seen her blush like that before, either.” Claude teased. “You’re not being very subtle, Nette.”

Marinette felt her blush deepen, even though they both knew she was easily flustered. She’s probably blushed a million times in the month that she’s known them, and most of those blushes were definitely darker than the one she was wearing even now.

Her gaze flicked to Felix, curious as to what he thought on the matter. His expression remained neutral, though she spotted a bit of intrigue in his eyes. It didn’t help with her guilt towards the comments.

Then again, why should she feel guilty? Even if she did like Luka, that wouldn’t affect anyone here. There was no reason to be ashamed.

Nevertheless, she still wanted to slip her way out of getting teased, so she jokingly rolled her eyes and said, “You guys said we were going to go swimming, right? Felix is here, and it’s getting dark so we should probably change before it gets too late.”

“The pool is indoors.” Claude helpfully reminded. “It doesn’t matter how late it gets.”

“But that was a good try at dodging, though.” Allegra smirked.

A squeak flew from Marinette’s lips before she could stop it, and the trio shared a laugh.

“Come on, guys.” Allan lightly scolded. “If you keep messing with her like this, she might spontaneously combust.”

Another laugh tumbled from Claude’s lips before he let out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, fine. I guess we can go swimming now.”

“Marinette has to cool off, anyway.” Allegra added with a wink.

Marinette groaned and put her head in her hands, if only to hide her ever-growing blush.

Mental note: Never mention a boy to the group again, because they will probably see right through you when it’s actually serious.

Tag List: @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252

#felinette #Marinette #Felix Culpa #Quantic Kids #Rosemary AU #New Girl on the Block

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writingsonawall · 4 years ago

Text

Falling, fallen chapter 3

Pairings: Spencer Reid x OFC

Story summary: Spencer randomly meets Leah at the library and their first encounter was supposed to be just that; a random one-time occurance. When an unsub lands Spencer in the very same hospital she works at, she feels obligated to take care of him. But what happens when his team notices her everlooming presence and theorises that perhaps she could be the unsub they’re looking for?

Chapter summary: The BAU start developing a profile which leads them to investigate Leah.

Warnings: Recalling a violent incident, bit of blood but not too bad.

Wordcount: 12,6 k

A/N: This chapter is written from Emily’s POV just to get a different perspective on the story.

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7,

Emily shot Reid a knowing look as she stepped through the door before turning her head slightly to watch the nurse shuffle down the corridor. She was pretty, that much was for certain and she knew Reid thought so, too. She took a seat by his bed, dropping the bag to the floor. She had just gotten back from his apartment, finally having had the time to collect the things he’d asked for earlier that same morning. She decided not to comment on the nurse any further as the three of them went back to work, trying to piece together a profile with the mess of details they had.

“What if we’re looking for two unsubs?” The first break came about an hour after Emily had returned to Reid’s room and they all peaked up at Rossi’s suggestion.

“What makes you say that?” Morgan’s voice sounded through Garcia’s phone now and Emily wondered the same thing.

“Look at the bruisings around Anita Thorne’s throat. That’s pretty large hands, don’t you think? Probably from a man. But the stabwounds on Gomez’ body were hesitant and shallow, not a lot of force behind them,” Rossi explained his thinking and Emily followed easily while she flipped through her files.

“So, you’re thinking whoever killed Gomez was a woman?” J.J. spoke up this time. Morgan didn’t even give Rossi time to answer.

“But the stabbing was all over the place and brutal. It was overkill. Do you really think a woman would be capable of doing that?”

“Maybe our unsub was hesitant about killing Gomez? Not knowing what to do or how to do it correctly? Maybe he was trying to establish a MO?” Reid spoke up now and his words surprised Emily. Anita Thorne had been killed a week and half before Gomez, so if the unsub was the same person then he was definitely accustomed to killing. It made no sense for him to brutally strangle Thorne, then hesitate when it came to Gomez. Unless there was a connection between Gomez and the unsub which they hadn’t made yet. That seemed unlikely since there was no sign of the unsub’s remorse anywhere on the body or at the crimescene. It didn’t feel personal.

Emily voiced her thoughts and the team agreed with her. She got a little concerned about Reid. He seemed to have gotten confused by such a simple thing as the timelines of the different victims. That was the kind of mistake Reid would never do. She was afraid he wasn’t in the right headspace to be working this case, but she didn’t speak her concern just yet.

“Typically in a killer-duo one part to be more dominant and the other more submissive. We shouldn’t assume that the female is the submissive one just because she’s the weaker sex. In fact we should assume the opposite, especially if we still regard our previous theory that at least one of them has some sort of medicaltraining. Healthcare is widely dominated by females after all,” Reid rambled on in his usual manner, but something still seemed… Off about him. Like he was trying to hide his privous slip up.

“So, you think we’re looking for a man and woman, and that the woman is the dominant person here?” Rossi asked.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. In traditional gender roles the man is depicted as the dominant type, when it in reality is the female who holds all the power. She controlls access to sex, decides what’s for dinner, has the most influence over the kids… Even though men typically are physically stronger than women, it’s still the women who control them, so I wouldn’t say it’s odd,” Reid explained further and by the way he was fiddling in the bed Emily could tell he had a lot more to say on the matter.

“Well, it fits,” J.J. butted in. “If the woman is dominant we can only assume she decides who gets to live and who doesn’t.”

“But how does she decide that?” Emily asked out loud.

“Garcia’s already looked through all the workers in both hospitals and no one crossrefranses,” Morgan interjected.

“I sure have, Sweetcheeks,” Garcia spoke up.

“There’s got to be something here that we’re missing,” Morgan mumbled.

“Garcia, start off by looking into hospitalemployees who might match our profile who’ve had contact with more than one of our victims. The dominant would be meticulous, so look for anyone with a clean record, we can also assume she’s reserved with few sosial contacts. We still don’t know how she decides who dies so look for anyone who stands out, employees who pay close attention to the victims, who check on them more than necessary, anything that screams unnatural behavior.” Hotch said and at that last bit Garcia’s fingers paused over the keyboard. Emily knew what she was thinking, because she was thinking the exact same thing.

“Does that mean employees who’s worked with Reid as well?” Garcia sounded guilty as she spoke and Emily noted that she gave Reid an apologetic look.

“What have you got Garcia?” Hotch’s answer fell to deaf ears because Reid lashed out.

“I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong!” He all but yelled.

“Spence!” J.J. sounded concerned, but she too was ignored.

“She didn’t do this. I know her and she didn’t do this.” Emily almost felt bad for him. The nurse had seemed like a sweet girl and either she’d played him like a fool or they were wrongfully accusing her of being a killer. There was no way she’d come good out of this one.

“Hold on! Who are we talking about?” Morgan asked at the same time as someone, Emily couldn’t tell who, asked “What do you mean you know her?” It was silent after that, this kind of silence that was just waiting for someone to break it. Emily realized then that she was staring blankly at Reid, still not used to him lashing out like that.

“I met her last night at the library,” Reid finally said after a reluctant sigh. That made Emily’s eyes go wide. Why hadn’t he said something before? “And I know what you’re all thinking, but it wasn’t her. She left way before I was shot. Garcia can probably verify that with an easy search, she got to work before 10 P.M. I know how bad that looks, but I’m telling you it’s not her. Hotch…” Reid’s voice was almost pleading towards the end and now Emily felt really bad for him. He wanted so desperately to believe it wasn’t her that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. Even though Emily hadn’t spent that much time at the hospital she had reacted to the nurse, feeling like there was something... off about her. She hadn’t even thought that the young woman might be the unsub, but when she thought it now; it just fit.

“What’s her name?” Hotch asked, his tone of voice unreadable. Emily wondered what he was thinking.

“Leah Clarewater,” Reid sighed, probably knowing he’d lost the battle. If he hadn’t said anything, Garcia would’ve found out anyway.

“Alright. Garcia, run her and see what pops up.” Hotch almost didn’t have the time to speak because Reid interrupted him.

“Get out,” He spoke, his voice quiet but his words were harsh.

“Reid,” Emily reached forward to lay a hand on his arm but he shied away from her.

“I said, get out. I’m not even on this case and I’m telling you it’s not her, but no one’s listening. I don’t want to hear anymore, so please… just get out.” He sounded almost completely broken, as if his whole life had just been flipped upsidedown and it made Emily frown.

“Garcia, Prentiss… You heard him.” Hotch’s voice was clear and Garcia sat there frozen for a second before quickly gathering her stuff and rising from her chair.

“Reid,” Emily tried again.

“What, Emily?” He snapped at her. “I’m telling you it’s not her, and it’s not just something I want to believe; it’s something I know for a fact. And when you eventually realize that you’re all wrong I am the one who’s gonna have to look her in the eyes and live with that guilt. So no, I don’t want to hear what you find out when you do a search on her, because it’s not my place to know unless she tells me herself.” He was almost panting with rage when he finished his rambling and the room once more fell in an awkward silence so thick it could practically be cut through with a knife. His words were laced with venom and she then realized that this wasn’t all about the nurse. Most it was, sure, but he was obviously still not over everything that happened with Emily and Doyle. She had felt horrible about lying to him and the rest of the team like that, but she had thought they had all worked through it by now. Reid obviously hadn’t, because that lash out was a whole lot of unresolved tension.

Emily escorted Garcia out of the room without another word. They found a secluded area in the waitingroom outside of the ICU and Garcia seemed a little reluctant about continuing.

“Sir. I must say that this doesn’t feel right,” she mumbled, the rest of the team still on the phone even though they had gone silent after Reid’s blow up.

“I know, Garcia, but just see what you can find out,” Hotch said.

“Is someone gonna tell me who we’re talking about now?” Morgan asked and that made Emily smile. Of course he hadn't picked up on who they were talking about yet. He was a damn good agent, but sometimes he could be slow.

“The nurse who came to get us when Reid woke up this morning,” Emily replied, leaning a little closer to her phone.

“Oh, the ho-” Morgan stopped himself before he could finish his sentence. Emily tried to hide her snicker because she knew he was about to say ‘hot one’, but that would be highly inappropriate.

“She seemed like a good kid,” Rossi interjected.

“Oh, but she’s anything but!” Garcia finally spoke up again. This was the first time Emily felt a little disgusted by how excited she sounded. She knew that Garcia couldn’t always help it. She was stuck in her office all day while the rest of the team were out in the field. She loved having things to do and whenever she found something that could help, she always took that win personally. Still, this time Emily couldn’t quite feel it. Reid obviously had a thing for this girl; attraction, admiration or whatever it was… And now Garica might have found something to shatter his precious fantasy of the girl.

“What have you got?” Hotch asked.

“Well… Leah Singer Clarewater, born and raised in The Bronx, New York. Apparently she ran in a bad crowd in her younger years. Several of her friends were picked up on drugcharges in high school. She doesn’t really have a record herself, but we can only assume she was just as bad as her friends since, you know, they were friends… Anyway, when she was eighteen her eight year old brother disappeared without a trace and he was never found. Leah was apparently with him when it happened. Police investigated, but never found out what happened. Two years later her mother died of, oh, let’s see… Cancer and after that it seems that she and her father drifted off. I can’t see that they have any contact now and she doesn’t seem to have many friends. No social media, I mean zip zero, no Facebook, Twitter, not even YouTube. Nada. She’s basically a loner.”

“That does fit the profile,” J.J. mumbled. Emily agreed. And the story about family could’ve been a stressor.

“Look, guys… We have to be absolutely certain about this,” Morgan spoke up, probably feeling just what Emily was.

“Well, she has a good medical education,” Garcia said. “I mean, like really good. She’s taken a lot of extra courses and addons to her Bachelor of Science in Nursing. She’d basically just need a few hours of mandatory training and she’d be certified as a paramedic.”

“So, she has a lot of medical knowledge?” Rossi asked.

“That she sure does,” Garcia nodded as she spoke, even though it was just Emily there to see her. “And- Oh! Oh…” Garcia trailed off, a sad look crossing her features. Emily wondered what she had just found out.

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch asked.

“She has a registered .45,” she whispered. Reid, and the other victims, had been shot with a .45. Oh, how Emily hated this. She had almost hoped for Reid’s sake that they had just jumped to conclusions and that they wouldn’t find anything on her. Now everything was pointing towards her.

“That’s more than enough for a probable cause,” Hotch sighed into the phone, sounding just as defeated as Emily felt. “Morgan and J.J., go to her address. Rossi, I want you back at the hospital. We still don’t know if she is or who she might be working with. If she knows we’re onto her, she might come after Reid. Until we find her and question her, I don’t want Reid to be left unattended. Stand outside of his room if he doesn’t want visitors, but no one comes into that room without anyone of us knowing what happens. And I mean no one, no nurses, doctors, not even the janitor or cleaning crew. Got it?” Hotch’s message was clear and everyone agreed verbally before ending the call. Emily decided to let Garica work for a little bit and went back to Reid’s room. She knocked softly on the door before opening it. Reid met her eyes with a fierceness in his.

“Look,” she said, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear and I’ll spare you the details… But this looks bad for her. We don’t know who she might be working with, so Hotch is adamant that we don’t leave you unattended. You may not like it and that’s fine. If you wanna be alone, then that’s fine too, I’ll just stay outside the door.” Emily had decided to just be frank with him. “In the mean time, do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” She asked, still not able to shake the tension between them.

“You’re still wrong about her.” Reid’s reply left no room for argument on that subject.

“I mean about whatever vendetta you have against me,” she clarified. Reid narrowed his eyes at her.

“No offense, Emily, but not everything is about you. On the contrary to popular belief I don’t carry grudges. My problem isn’t with you personally, it’s with all of you. I tell you that it’s not her, and you don’t believe me. I know her and my word, my credibility still means nothing to you.” He was getting agitated and she finally understood why. This wasn’t just about protecting the nurse, it was also about the team not trusting his judgement. Emily sighed.

“You’ve known her for how long? Less than a day? What if you’re wrong, Reid? Just what if?”

“I’m not.” His reply came not even a heartbeat later and his voice was certain. It was still too similar to a childish game, him not wanting to admit he might be wrong.

“Okay, I’ll bite… Say you’re right, there’s still things you don’t know about her. She’s not this amazing person you think she is. She’s got baggage, possibly more than you can imagine. She’s trouble, Reid, whether she’s the unsub or not.” Emily had no idea how much Reid knew about her, but she somehow figured out that if he knew everything then he would be more logical about this.

“She’s the best person I’ve met,” Reid said and she looked at him for a moment. Did he really mean that? Did she really have him so tightly twisted around her finger that he believed his own words to be the truth? By the confident look on his face, she guessed on yes to both questions. “But you’re right about one thing; I do want to be alone. Please, close the door behind you.” That was a clear sign that this discussion was over. Emily decided not to say anything else as she slipped out of the room.

She could only begin to imagine what Reid was going through. Emily didn’t have any relatives she spoke to, no friends outside of work. Her colleagues were her family, she loved them all dearly. If any of them got implicated for murder she probably would have lost her shit as well. Still, that got her to wonder what was going on between Reid and that nurse. She had seemed professional enough the few times she’d seen her, except for the time she’d caught her hanging out in Reid’s room for the better part of half an hour before she went home. What had that been about? Reid obviously didn’t know her that well, seeing as he claimed to have met her the night before. Maybe he felt attracted to her; she was pretty after all. But then again she wouldn’t take Reid for the guy to fall head over heels for a woman he’d barely met. This couldn’t possibly be love, she must have found a way to manipulate him.

“How’s the kid?” Rossi greeted Emily as he walked down the corridor twenty minutes later. Emily sighed heavily as he came to a stop next to her.

“Understandably upset,” she told him with a small shrug. “He’s… He’s actually pretty mad,” she said.

“He’ll get over it,” Rossi tried to assure her, but she could only shake her head.

“I’m afraid this could be a breakingpoint for him. No matter what happens from now on, Reid loses. Either this girl is a killer who’s managed to wrap him around her finger or she’s not… And I’m not sure which of them is worse,” she sighed as she spoke, not knowing how to feel about all of this.

“You don’t think it’s her?” Rossi asked, his voice slow as if he was being careful with what he said.

“It all fits,” Emily nodded. “But there’s some questions that need answers. This case is just all over the place and when one of our own is involved it just makes it… harder, you know?” She glanced up at the older man, finding him looking back with sympathetic eyes.

“Now you know how we felt last time you were involved.” He gave her a sad smile then and it made Emily’s stomach drop. She had realized that the whole thing with Doyle had been hard on the team, but that it had felt like this?

“I just hope Reid’s gonna be okay,” she mumbled.

“He’s a smart kid. He’ll pull through.” Rossi bumped his shoulder into hers, a small sign of comfort. Emily couldn’t exactly say that it helped, but she appreciated the gesture all the same. Just then her phone started blaring and she pulled it out of her pocket, noticing that it was Hotch.

“I’ve got Rossi here with me,” she spoke up after accepting the call.

“Morgan and J.J. came up empty-handed,” Hotch informed them, getting right to business. “They’re already headed back to the hospital. We can only assume that she didn’t leave at all or that she’s waiting for a chance to get to Reid. I’ve already called in reinforcement to guard his room, but in the meantime have Garcia on watchout. I want the two of you to do a sweep of the hospital, try to see if you can locate her. We have a warrant out for her arrest and I’m bringing it over as we speak,” he told them and that made Emily’s stomach tighten just a little more. They had enough probable cause to arrest her now. Before they could even agree to his orders he hung up the phone. Emily sighed, dropping the phone into her pocket again. She leaned forward a little, putting her hands on her knees as she tried to make sense of it all. She wasn’t in doubt that they had the right person, but something still felt… off. She couldn’t tell if it was the profile or just Reid’s feelings involved.

“Do you need a minute?” Rossi asked, his voice hushed next to her.

“Yeah, probably,” she nodded as a hand was placed on her hunched over back.

“I’ll go get Garcia,” he informed her before he disappeared down the corridor. Emily took a few minutes to collect her thoughts, push all doubt so far into the back of her mind that it couldn’t possibly bother her anymore. If she started doubting, she’d make mistakes and mistakes couldn’t be tolerated, especially not on a case involving one of her own. She owed it up to Reid to make this go as smoothly as possible.

Rossi returned with Garcia who they placed on a chair outside of Reid’s room. They didn’t dare ask him if she could sit in his room with him, so for right now they’d just have to make it work that way. Rossi and Emily started by talking to the nurse who was on call, simply asking if she happened to know when the unsub was coming back to work. She informed them that she wasn’t scheduled to work until the eveningshift the next day, and that she was supposed to work at the post operative unit instead of the ICU. Emily asked if that was normal, to work at two different units, to which the nurse only laughed saying something along the lines of “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get a permanent full-time position as a nurse? Most of us work in two different units, at least.”

They went down to the post operative unit next, just to make sure she hadn’t clocked in almost 24 hours earlier than when her shift started. They came up empty there as well. For the next fifteen minutes they did a quick search of three other units, asking different personnel if they’d seen her. Most people had no idea who she even was, which didn’t surprise Emily. It was a big hospital after all.

“Hang on a second.” Emily stopped Rossi’s pace as she glanced over at the doctor who was standing and talking to the officeworker by the lobby. She could vaguely remember seeing the unsub talk to him earlier that morning by the nursingstation in the ICU. The two had seemed close, as if they were friends or close colleagues at the very least.

“Excuse me.” Rossi must have noticed her train of thoughts because he approached the man. “Dr. Ruiz,” Rossi said once he was close enough to read the print of his lapcoat. “I’m Agent Rossi, this is my partner SSA Prentiss.” Rossi pulled out his badge and showed it to the man.

“We’re looking for Leah Clarewater, but we’re having a hard time locating her. Have you seen her?” Emily asked. She was surprised by the doctor’s reaction. More times than not, people would get nervous or upset when they came asking about friends and family. This man seemed… happy? Relieved?

“Well, that was quickly!” He exclaimed. “She’s down in the ER. I’m headed that way myself, so I can walk you down,” he told them. Emily gave Rossi a look, silently asking if he was noticing the strangeness as well. He only shrugged, so they followed the doctor.

“I saw you this morning. Have you been on call for long?” Emily found herself asking as they walked down a corridor.

“It was chaos here last night, masscollision on the highway. I got called in as an extra set of hands. I usually work in post op. but when it’s all hands on deck, it’s… Well, all hands on deck,” he laughed.

“Did Leah get called in as well?” Rossi asked as they reached the elevator.

“Yeah,” he told them, pressing the button which said -1. “Typically we don’t call in nurses, but Leah has a lot of extra training and she’s really good at what she does. Always handy to have around, you know?”

“She works in the post operative unit as well. Have you known her for long?” Emily asked as they stepped out of the elevator. Dr. Ruiz nodded.

“Yeah… For the good part… Three years, is it, now? Wow, how time flies. She’s one of the best I’ve ever seen, to be honest. Cares a lot about her patients, you know? And she’s really good at her job so she’s a thrill to be working with,” he told them. He clearly thought highly of her, just like Reid. This woman had managed to fool not only one, but two doctors. She almost deserved a medal for that.

“Good evening, Dr. Ruiz!” A petite blonde greeted as they made it to the ER. “Are you gonna be working here today?”

“Yeah, no… Not today, Cindy. I’m just looking for Leah, is she still here?” The doctor asked. Emily stood beside Rossi a few steps away from them, just watching the interaction.

“Yeah, she’s down there,” Cindy answered, pointing towards the end of the giant room where a shutter had been closed all the way. “She still refuses to go up to neuro, though. Dr. Charles insisted, but she refuses,” the nurse huffed a little, as if she was annoyed. What she said made Emily’s eyebrows shoot up.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Dr. Ruiz said and Emily noted the awardwinning smile he gave the nurse. He then turned towards herself and Rossi. “I’ll just need to check some files and then I’ll be over. You can talk to her if you want,” he informed them before walking over to the nursestation in the middle of the room. Emily shrugged at Rossi and started walking towards where the nurse had pointed earlier. She dragged the curtains open, revealing the blonde woman who was sitting at the end of the bed, feet dangling back and forth, head buried in her hands and what looked to be an icepack pressed to her forehead.

“Leah Singer Clarewater?” Emily asked, a little uncertain about what exactly was going on. The woman slowly lifted her head, looking up at the agents. She blinked a couple of times, even the movements of her eyelids slow and sluggish and now that Emily could see her face she got even more confused. Her nose was swollen and obviously broken by the way it was leaning towards the right. She had cottonballs sticking out of each nostril, the tips of them stained with blood. She was sporting a massive bruise on her left cheek, the skin there already turned a deep purple which matched bruising around her eyes. She also had a deep gash across her forehead which had a few badges over it to keep it shut. Her throat looked red and Emily could see the indications of handprints developing there. She looked like hell, to say the least.

“You’re… uhm, Dr. Reid’s friends,” she finally spoke up. Her voice sounded hoarse and nasal at the same time. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly for a few seconds, as if the light was hurting, before opening them. She seemed to have a hard time focusing on the people in front of her.

“We are,” Rossi simply stated, probably as confused as Emily was. He glanced at her, and Emily could only shake her head because the sight in front of her was not what she had expected to find.

“Look,” the nurse said slowly. “I’m off duty right now, and as you can see I’m in no shape to get back to work at the moment. Whatever he needs, there’s other nurses on call now who can help him.” Her voice was still slightly slurred as she spoke, as if she was drugged down or drunk. Emily assumed they had given her a cocktail of drugs for whatever pain she was in.

“Actually, we wanted to talk to you,” Emily pursed her lips together, not knowing how to handle the situation. This woman was still a suspect, but now might not be the best time to have this conversation. They still had a warrant for her arrest, but they couldn’t possibly arrest her right now when she looked like that. There was a lot of information missing here.

“You were with Reid the other night?” Rossi spoke up and that seemed to confuse her. Her eyes were even narrowed than they had been a second ago.

“Oh, right… Right, at the library,” she said as the memories seemed to come back to her. Emily wasn’t a doctor, but she could clearly tell that this woman was seriously concussed. She was in no condition to be having this conversation.

“We just want the stories straight, that’s all,” Emily said, leaving out the part of them thinking she was actually a serial killer. “But we can talk to you later if you’re not up for it right now,” she assured her.

“Later might be a good time,” Dr. Ruiz spoke up, startling Emily a little. She hadn’t even noticed him approaching. “Leah, we’re taking you up to neuro.”

“No, I’m fine,” she waved her hand dismissively and dropped the ice pack. She seemed to have sobered up a little bit since Emily and Rossi had walked in. “I just wanna go home, but I can talk now. Is this gonna take long?” She asked, pushing the doctors hands away as he tried to touch her.

“Leah, seriously,” The doctor tried to make her stay still, but she pushed him off yet again.

“Ruiz, I’m fine,” She jumped off from the bed, leaning down, probably to try to get her bag which was laying on the floor, and then collapsed forward. Emily was about to rush forward on instinct, but the doctor just barely managed to grab a hold of her. She still ended up sprawled out on the floor, but Dr. Ruiz had managed to lighten the fall so she didn’t smack right down.

“Can you give me some space, please?” The doctor asked looking up at Emily and Rossi. He was sitting on his knees besides Clarewater, one hand supporting the back of her head while the other one was pressed against her chest. Rossi and Emily immediately took a step back. They couldn’t do anything but stand there and watch as he pulled a small flashlight out if coat, forcing one of the nurse’s eyes open to check the reflexes.

“Fuck me, that’s bright!” She groaned, clearly not unconscious. She battled his hand away.

“Yeah, you’re totally fine.” Emily could almost hear him roll his eyes at her. He was so done with her bullshit, and in any other situation the two of them might have been adorable. He obviously cared about her, even though she probably annoyed him at times.

“It’s just a BP-drop,” the nurse scoffed. “Is it me or you who’s the doctor here?”

“It’s me, and that’s why you’re going up to neuro.” His voice was stern even as he helped her up on her feet. He gently sat her down on the bed, pushing on her shoulders until she reluctantly laid down. She made small noises of discontent all the time until she closed her eyes against the blinding overheadlight. “Leah, I’ll strap you to the bed if I have to. I have two federal agents here to back me up. We’re taking that trip to neuro whether you like it or not. Doctor’s orders.” That left no room for argument and Emily felt a small smile tug on the corner of her lips, despite the seriousness of the situation. They were like a pair of siblings or an old married couple fighting.

“Is it okay if one of us tags along so we can talk to her once she’s checked out?” Rossi asked once the scene in front of them calmed down.

“Be my guest,” the doctor said, waving another man forward, probably a porter. He picked up the bag from the floor and placed it on Clarewater’s stomach. He unlocked the breaks from the bed and the other man stepped forward, taking his place on the other side. “neuro’s a few floors up and I’ve already called ahead for a CT and MRI, so it might take some time. But if you wanna stick around, then that should be alright.” He informed them as the two men started pushing the bed forward.

“You go. I’ll call Hotch and tell him what’s happened,” Rossi told Emily who only nodded and moved forward to follow the moving bed down the corridors. She decided to stay silent as they traveled around the hospital. She waited outside of the room where the CT was placed, taking a seat in the chair. When the suspect, and yes she wanted to use the word suspect now since she had no idea how to read the situation anymore, was placed safely in the machine the doctor stepped out again. Emily offered him a smile as he took a seat next to her.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Emily asked.

“Leah? Yeah, sure,” Dr. Ruiz laughed. “She’s gotten a few blows to the head, so we’re just ruling out serious brain trauma. It’s probably just a bad concussion, but we have to make sure it’s not something more, you know?”

“I hope it’s not anything worse,” Emily offered her concern.

“Well, it’s Leah so she’ll be fine. She always is,” Dr. Ruiz shrugged. “Sorry you had to see that back there. She’s a really nice girl, but she can be stubborn. She’s this kind of person who always gives 110 percent, you know? I constantly have to remind her to take breaks, because she refuses. Says she hates breaks because she feels like she’s useless when she’s not doing anything. I always try to sneak some treats into her pockets, like proteinbars or something, because I know if I don’t then she’ll be running on adrenaline and coffee the entire day.”

“She seems invested in her work then,” Emily hummed. “You seem to really care about her.” She glanced up at him to see his reaction. He just smiled fondly.

“She’s the best, honestly. She’s kinda like my workwife,” he laughed.

“Oh, really?” Emily couldn’t help but chuckle herself.

“Yeah, whenever we work together things just flow so smoothly, you know what I’m talking about? I mean, she annoys me to death sometimes… mostly because she refuses to look out for herself, but she’s damn good at her job. And she’s a lot of fun to be around and we work really well together. The others down at post op. call us ‘dream team’ because of that,” he laughed again.

“Well, I can only imagine.” Emily felt a little bad about hearing him talk so highly of her when she was a suspect in a murderinvestigation. “So, you know her well then?”

“Not as well as I’d like to,” he muttered, a little sadness lacing his tone now. “I think she buries herself in work. I mean, we were both supposed to be on the morning shift for today, but I switched things around so I could get the eveningshift instead since I had to work the night. Leah is the kind of person who prefers to work doubles. I do that occasionally, too and let me tell you this; it drains you. I think she thrives on it, the more work she has to do, the more content she is, you know? But I think it takes a toll on her social life.” He cocked his head to the side with a little shrug. Emily nodded her head slowly to his words. She had nothing to say to that, because she didn’t know what to say.

“Do you know what happened to her?” She decided to ask instead, wondering what happened in order to give Leah those not so lovely bruises. She had her theories, but right now she had little to nothing to go on.

“No one really knows,” Dr. Ruiz shrugged. “Another employee was headed home and found her by her car in the garage. From what I heard she was unconscious and they brought her up to the ER to get checked out. I haven’t really had the chance to talk to her yet. I was headed down to see her when I ran into you guys.”

“Okay,” Emily nodded along and the doctor stood up from his seat. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Are you a colleague of that federal agent who was admitted last night?” He asked. Emily nodded.

“Yes, and we’re investigating the case. That’s why we want to talk to your colleague, get the full picture,” she told him, leaving out the parts he didn’t need to know.

“Do you think the same person who shot your agent came after Leah?” He asked with a frown on his face. That thought had just crossed Emily’s mind as well, but she still couldn’t be sure. Perhaps the other unsub had lashed out on her. Dominant and submissive partnerships like that hardly ever worked out, especially if the dominant didn’t include the submissive in the whole process. Or if the submissive felt too subjected.

“That’s what we’re here to find out.” Emily offered him her best tight lipped smile.

“You know… We worked on him when he was rushed in, before he went into surgery. She probably doesn’t want to admit it, but she was pretty shaken up about it,” he told her. This time it was Emily’s turn to frown.

“Shaken up how?” She asked. This was news to her.

“You know, just upset I guess,” he tried to explain, but it didn’t bring any clarity. He must have noticed that Emily needed more because he continued. “Leah… she beats herself up over… pretty much anything. I mean, if she loses a patient on her watch she takes that personally, even though it’s not her fault or responsibility. That’s her only flaw, I guess. She cares so much, too much sometimes. And when stuff like this happens, the wheels keep turning. I guess she blames herself? For not being there. She said stuff like if she hadn’t got called in then maybe she would’ve left at the same time as your agent, and maybe he wouldn’t have gotten shot. I tried to tell her to forget about it, but I guess some things you just can’t leave alone,” he shrugged his shoulders. Emily could only offer him a sad smile. She understood it a little more. If this was the kind of person Clarewater made everyone believe she was then it wasn’t weird that she had Reid fooled. But the more she thought about it, the more it made her doubt that maybe this woman wasn’t putting on an act after all. But she couldn’t go there just yet. They still needed to see this through before they could even concidder dropping her as a suspect.

The doctor bid his farewell after that, telling her he had to get back to work. She offered her gratitude before he left, to which he simply replied to with a smile. As Emily waited for their suspect to be done with her check up, she called up Garcia, gave her a heads up about what was going on and told her to see if there was any surveillance by the employee parking. If Clarewater had been attacked there then maybe the cameras had captured her assailant on video. She was just about to call Hotch to let him know as well when she spotted him at the end of the hall. Morgan and J.J. were at his side so she waved them over.

“Dave told us what happened,” Hotch said as he approached. “Where is she?”

“They’re doing a few tests to rule out braininjury,” Emily said as she nodded her head towards the closed door. “She looked pretty beat up so I think it’s gonna take a while until we get to interview her.”

“Garcia just texted me and said she was attacked by her car?” Hotch asked and Emily nodded.

“That’s where she was found,” she confirmed. “Listen, Hotch… I just gotta say… there’s something off about all of this.”

“Yeah, I feel it too.” J.J. said.

“Everyone I’ve talked to so far today says she’s a good girl, has her traumas, sure, but the way they describe her… I just don’t think she’s the one we’re after.” Emily felt the need to be honest with her coworkers. There were times when they’d uprehend the wrong suspect or they had their profile all wrong, and no one liked those moments. But they still needed to play this right. “Could we have made a rushed decision here?” They all looked at Hotch to hear what he had to say. He looked a little uncertain as if he too had no idea what right move was.

“Morgan, I want you and Prentiss to head down to the garage. See if there’s anything there that might help us. J.J., I want you to check on Reid, see if Garcia might need a break. I’m taking Dave with me to the coroner’s. They’ve just re-exhumed Anthony Garland’s body to see if they can determine the cause of death. It appears it might take some time for Leah Clarewater to be ready to talk, but when she is, I want you to do it, Prentiss. You’ve talked to her coworkers, see if there’s anything that doesn’t add up with their stories versus hers. Take the garage first, though. I’ll let the doctors know we want to talk to her before she gets discharged.” Hotch’s message was clear and they all nodded their agreement.

Emily followed Morgan to the parkingstructure next to the hospital. When they got there local authorities and CSI were already on scene. Wow, these people worked fast. They flashed their badge and gave the unit chief a runthrough of why they were there. The floor which Clarewater’s car was parked on was surprisingly empty so it wasn’t strange that no one had seen what had gone down. Including Clarewater’s Emily could spot about fifteen cars when there was probably space for closer to a hundred.

“We think she was assaulted over here,” the unit chief said, pointing to the ground next to the driver’s side of the car. “We think the suspect came up behind her, smashed her head into the car a couple of times before throwing her to the ground,” he informed them and that seemed to be a pretty adequate guess. There was a dent on the edge by the roof of her car and some traces of blood. On the ground there were scuffmarks and a few smaller pools of blood.

“Sir.?” A voice from the other side of the car called their attention. “Found it in the glovecompartment.” The man who spoke was standing in the space between the open passangerdoor and the car itself. He had a gun hanging from the tips of his glovecovered fingers.

“What caliber is that?” Emily asked.

“It appears to be .45,” the man told her. Emily turned to look at Morgan.

“Our missing gun,” he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Chief, we have a murderinvestigation going on. Can you rush a ballisticstest on that gun to see if it matches?”

“Sure can do,” he told them. “But that gun’s probably the victim’s, though, since it was found in her car.”

“We’re aware,” Emily countered back, not offering any more information. He gave her a strange look, but didn’t say anything else on the matter. There wasn’t really much to do around the crime-scene, so Emily and Morgan decided not to hover for very long. They’d seen what they needed to and until they’d get the results from the various tests they had little to go on. They stopped by the cafeteria on their way, both in desperate need of fuel. They had been running different errands since the morning and Emily hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. They used half an hour or so for their break, briefing the rest of their team on their findings while eating.

“Do you think it was that nurse?” Morgan asked once they finally had some peace and quiet, even with noise of other people around them.

“Do you?” Emily countered back. She was still a little reluctant about sharing her thoughts.

“I mean, part of me wants to just so we have the right suspect. If it’s not her, then we’re not making any headway,” he shrugged. “But I have this… feeling, like something isn’t adding up.”

“It never really adds up, though,” Emily said. It was true, even when they were 100% certain they’d caught the right guy, there was always a minor detail or two which didn’t make sense to them. It usually always made sense to the unsub, but their logic wasn’t always rational.

“True, but still.” Morgan huffed before taking a sip of his coffee.

“I don’t think it’s her either,” Emily finally said, offering some sort of comfort in telling him he wasn’t the only one who experienced doubt in that moment. “She could be really manipulative with the people around her, but that doctor I talked to earlier… He said that she’d been really worried about Reid. And you can’t fake concern like that.”

“She could be worried about getting caught,” Morgan countered. This conversation really wasn’t going anywhere. They were just throwing out suggestions and the other one shooting them down. It wasn’t because none of them were right or wrong, it was just because none of them really had any idea if Clarewater was the unsub or not. And when they didn’t know for certain, no suggestion was right nor wrong. It was kind of like Schrodinger’s cat which Reid had once told her about.

“I just feel bad for Reid,” she mumbled, followed by a sigh.

“He’ll live,” Morgan shrugged nonchalantly, even though she knew he was just as concerned. “It’s Reid, he’ll pull through.”

“I sure hope so,” Emily said, staring at a blank spot over Morgan’s head as she absentmindly started picking at her cuticles.

“Hey, stop that now!” He scolded at her. “You’ll talk to her later and then you’ll know for sure. I trust your instinct. You can get the vibe whether a person is good or bad within a five minute conversation. If you think she’s the one, then she’s probably the one. If you don’t think she’s the one, then she’s probably not the one. Okay? Easy as that.” He put his hand on top of hers and she was grateful for the small gesture. It did sound awfully easy when he put it like that.

“Okay.” She nodded, offering him a smile to tell him she was good. “They haven’t called yet, so do you wanna head up and check on Reid?” Morgan’s smile brightened at that and he agreed. They put their mostly empty trays of food away, but grabbed their still full coffeecups on the way. When they got back to the ICU Emily noted that Anderson, another federal agent, had arrived and stood stationed outside of Reid’s room. They both greeted him before opening the door and walking inside. Through the window Emily had seen that both J.J. and Garcia were sitting by Reid’s bed so she assumed he had calmed down from his previous lash out.

“How you doing, kid?” Morgan asked.

“Fine,” Reid’s reply was short and simple. He probably still wasn’t in the mood for talking.

“He doesn’t want any updates on the nurse,” J.J. spoke up gently, carefully threading water. Emily’s phone vibrated in her pocket so she fished it out, seeing that there was a number she hadn’t saved. She excused herself before leaving the room. Accepting the call, she pressed the phone to her ear.

“This is Prentiss,” she answered.

“Hi! I’m calling from the Neurology unit at Inova Fairfax Hospital. My notes says that you wanted me to call you on an update with Leah Clarewater,” There was a man who spoke in a very high pitched voice, kind of like Reid’s.

“Oh, yes!” Emily answered. “Is she awake?”

“We decided to admit her for the night, just as a precaution. But she’s awake and coherent, so if you want to see her that should be fine now.”

“Okay, great! I’ll be right over!” Emily said before hanging up the phone. She poked her head in through Reid’s door before she left, just saying she was leaving for a few minutes. Reid hadn’t wanted to know anything, so she didn’t say where she was going. Morgan would know and that was enough.

The hospital was a maze, but she eventually found her way to Neurology. With the help of some lovely nurse she managed to locate Clarewater’s room which was at the very end of the hall. She knocked purposefully on the door, waiting a second before opening it. She poked her head in to see that the person she was looking for was laying down in the bed.

“Hey,” Emily greeted her as she closed the door behind her. “Do you remember me?” She asked as she took a seat in one of the empty chairs. Emily thought it was strange. Clarewater was in her own clothes which had a few stains of blood dried on them, there were no IVs or other kinds of medical equipment connected to her, nothing to indicate she was sick. While Reid had an IV hooked up constantly and a hospitalgown on he still looked far healthier than she did. It was just a funny thought.

“I do, but I must apologise for not recalling the name,” Clarewater sighed. She didn’t sound irritated, just tired. Emily could only imagine.

“Don’t worry about it,” she smiled. “My name is Emily Prentiss.”

“Okay,” the blonde mumbled. “Sorry, I’m just really dizzy and my head is kind of a mess so I probably won’t be able to remember that in, like, five minutes.”

“That’s fine,” Emily assured her.

“You, uh… wanted to talk to me about Spencer?” She lifted her head as if she wanted to look at Emily, but she was wearing a pair of dark, huge sunglasses so it was hard to meet her eyes. Emily took note that she referred to Reid by his firstname.

“Yes, but let’s start with what happened to you in parkinggarage.”

“I honestly don’t remember much.” The nurse leaned forward a little in the bed and rubbed her forehead with both her hands.

“Just tell me what you remember,” Emily offered.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I was just headed for my car when this guy came up behind me.”

“Do you remember what he looked like?” Emily asked. “Was he tall? Short? Bald perhaps? Did he have any tattoos? Do you remember anything that could help us find him?”

“He was, uhm… tall, I think? I mean, he was taller than me, but I’m, like, five-foot-two so basically everyone’s taller than me,” she explained. “And… um, I didn’t really see his face or anything. At least I don’t think so. I honestly can’t remember. Sorry, my mind’s a mess right now.” She looked up and even though Emily couldn’t see her eyes she knew she was looking sad about it.

“That’s fine. It’s normal not to remember everything right away. And you served some pretty bad blows to the head, so really… Don’t feel bad,” Emily offered her a genuine smile. “Let’s not focus on the details. Can you remember what happened? Was he behind you the whole time or was there a time where you were facing him?”

“No, he, uhm… He came up behind me and smashed my face into the car. Like, hard and repeatedly. Then he threw me down on the ground, on my back, and then he got on top of me. I think I must have closed my eyes or something, because I can’t actually remember seeing his face.” Clarewater explained.

“Are you sure? Try to think really hard.” Emily told her as she made mental notes as to what she was telling her.

“No, you don’t… It’s hard to explain. It’s not like I can’t remember what he looked like, it’s like I can’t remember if I saw him or not. I don’t know how else to explain it, sorry.” She chuckled a little at that before wincing and clutching a hand to her forehead again.

“It’s fine, we’ll come back to that.” Emily assured her. “What happened next?”

“Well, he… got on top of me and started strangling me. And I think I must’ve… fought back or something, because I scratched him and he didn’t like that. So he sorta… lifted me by the front of my shirt and slammed me back down, like, slamming my head against the ground. And he did that a few times and I think I passed out from that, because I… can’t really remember anything after that.”

“Wait, you scratched him?” Emily backtracked a little. That was the most important part of her story so far.

“Yeah, I… I think I must’ve,” she said, holding her hands out. Emily noted that her nails were clipped short, as a nurse’s nails should be, and there was a little blood and what looked like skin under a few of them.

“I’m gonna have someone come up later and collect a sample. There might be some DNA there which can help us find this guy,” Emily informed her and Clarewater dropped her hands again. “Do you remember anything else about him? Did he say anything?”

“Yeah, he… he did, but I don’t think it means anything.” She said with a shrug.

“What exactly did he say?”

“He said… He said ‘Heathens be heathens. Heathens be scapegoats’.” Her voice was slightly shaky as she spoke and that made Emily frown as well. What did that mean?

“And that doesn’t mean anything to you?” Emily asked.

“Why would it?” She scoffed. “I don’t know, that’s what he said.”

“Alright,” Emily nodded. “Do you need a little break?” Emily felt the need to ask. Clarewater seemed… a little shaken up, but fine considering all things. Most victims would be a crying mess halfway through telling their stories, but she wasn’t. She seemed noticeably upset, sure, but not nearly what Emily would expect. She still couldn’t tell if it was whatever medication she might be on or the concussion or if it was something else.

“I just wanna get this over with so I can get some rest.” Clarewater responded, sounding tired so Emily could understand her desire for sleep. “You wanted to talk about your agent?”

“Yes,” Emily said, still a little certain about how to proceed. “We just want to get the timeline right. So, we’re looking into everyone he saw before he got shot and everyone he-” she started explaining before she was cut off.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Clarewater shook her head a little, as if she was trying to grasp something. “What do you mean ‘looking into’?” She asked. Emily’s mouth fell open a little at the defensive tone the other woman had. “Am I a suspect? Is that what this is?” Emily could understand that she’d feel upset about the accusations, but she found herself growing frustrated as well. It was kind of like a defensemechanism for Emily.

“Look, here’s what I know,” She said, keeping her voice stern. “You were the last person to see Dr. Reid before he was shot-”

“I was already at work when he got shot!” Clarewater interrupted. She almost screaming and that must have hurt her head, but she didn’t show it.

“You’ve visited his room on multiple occasions after he got admitted, some of those visits unnecessary, won’t you say? You don’t seem the least bit concerned about what happened to yourself and you’re in a rush to get out of here. Correct me if I’m wrong, but that screams guilty to me and I don’t know what exactly you’re guilty for but I still have to follow all leads,” Emily told her and tried to look somewhat in the center of the sunglasses as if she was trying to maintain eye contact. She looked at her for a long moment before the woman eventually took the glasses off. She winced a little, shutting her eyes for a few seconds before opening them. She blinked a little against the light before she spoke up.

“Why would I shoot Spencer? I barely even know him. It doesn’t make any sense,” She said, her voice a more normal level now.

“Sometimes it just doesn’t make any sense,” Emily told her, keeping her voice in a lower tone to match the other woman’s. “Listen… Is it okay if I call you Leah?” Emily asked to which the other woman just shrugged. “I’m gonna be completely honest with you. Me and my team, Dr. Reid included… We’re profilers. We investigate murders and other criminalcases and we evaluate the evidence. Based on that evidence we make a profile of what we think that killer is like, how they act, their education, social life, etcetera. And you do fit that profile, Leah. And I’m only telling you this because Reid… he thinks you’re innocent. So, I owe it to him to be honest with you so you can be honest with me.” Emily watched as her eyes glossed over. She looked genuinely upset.

“You said murder…” She trailed off at the end. “Is Spencer… Is he dead? He was fine when I left the ICU. God, please don’t tell me he’s dead.” She started crying then and that reaction put even more doubt into Emily’s mind. One thing was telling her that she was in the same room as the unsub they were looking for, another thing told her the opposite. It was a tough case, but she remembered Morgan’s previous words and she was adamant to leave that room with more answers than questions.

“Reid is fine, but we assume that whoever shot him might come back,” Emily decided to just be completely honest.

“And you still think that’s me?” Clarewater asked, sniffing through her tears. “You actually think I did this?”

“Prove it wasn’t,” was all Emily could say.

“Yeah, because how do I prove I didn’t shoot anyone?” She laughed darkly at that, even through her tears which were falling more rapidly now.

“How about you start with telling me why your reaction’s so off?” Emily offered. Right now that was the most pressing concern she had.

“Why? Because I’m not curled up in the corner like some baby and feeling sorry for myself?” She scoffed.

“That might be a good place to start,” Emily nodded. She watched as the other woman fiddled a little in the bed before moving to the end of it.

“I just… need to move around for a second,” she sighed, slowly getting up. Emily shot to her feet, afraid Clarewater would fall again. She didn’t go to grab her, just getting ready in case something were to happen. “I’m fine,” she assured her. Once Emily was sure she was actually okay to stand on her own she let the woman move freely.

“Take your time,” Emily said as Clarewater moved to stand by the window. She just looked out it for probably five minutes straight, her face was unreadable. She looked drained of emotions, completely numb.

“Are you gonna tell Spencer about any of this?” She finally asked after a long moment of silence.

“Do you want me to?” Emily asked back.

“No, I honestly don’t want him to know.”

“Alright, then whatever you say to me will not reach his ear. He’s off the case completely now, he said he didn’t want any involvement after we brought you up as a possible suspect,” Emily decided that if she was to get any answers she had to just be honest. She owed that to Reid and to Clarewater.

“He’s too good, you know?” She said, turning her head so she could look at Emily. She had a sad smile on her lips. Emily wondered what she meant by that. “So, you said you’re… profilers? Does that mean you… like, did a background check on me?”

“We did, yes,” Emily answered.

“So, you know about Sam?”

“That’s your brother, right?”

“Yeah,” Clarewater sighed, making her way over to the other chair which was on the other side of the bed. She slumped down in it. She looked… exhausted, there really wasn’t any other way of putting it. “I don’t know how much you know, but I was with him the day he disappeared. And I… just never stopped blaming myself for that. He had been right there. Right there! And in a split second he was gone. And I blamed myself and eventually the police gave up looking and then my parents started blaming me as well… And all this time I still wish it was me and not him. I never got to know what happened to him, but I can only imagine. And whatever horrible things he might have experienced, I still wish it was me and not him.” She explained and Emily felt a little bad for her. She could really understand her struggles, but that still didn’t give her a clear answer. “I don’t tell a lot of people that. Actually, I’ve probably never told anyone that. I’ve told some people about Sammy, though, just not… Anyway, I think it’s clear to say I don’t really care about myself. I mean, I’m not exactly stupid and I know that when people tell me it’s not healthy to have those thoughts, I realize that they’re right, but I just don’t care. I guess I care more about other’s than I do about myself.” She finished with a shrug.

“Leah, don’t take this the wrong way… but are you depressed?” Emily had to ask because the way she talked very much suggested that she was. Clarewater paused for a moment.

“Look, as I said I’m not stupid. I’m not gonna sit here and lie when I’m quite literary trying to clear my name. I don’t think I’m depressed, but then again most depressed people think that… but there’s a possibility. I… tend to bury myself in work rather than feel my… emotions, feelings whatever. I don’t like feeling vulnerable, I don’t like feeling sad and I realize that I do not exactly have a healthy relationship with my emotions… but I didn’t do this. I didn’t shoot Spencer. Enough people around me have been hurt and I don’t ever want to be the reason for that again.” Tears were streaming down her face again towards the end of her speech. Emily felt the urge to hug her, something she had never done before with a suspect.

“Leah, listen to me… You did not hurt your brother. You are not the reason he’s gone. I know it’s hard, but try to believe me when I say that you did nothing wrong. Nothing,” Emily spoke sternly, putting pressure on all the right words. Clarewater raised her eyes to look at her.

“So… Do you believe me?” She asked. “I would never hurt Spencer, at least not on purpose. I know I’m fucked up. Sorry for cursing, by the way. I know I’m messed up, but I wouldn’t go around shooting someone. And especially not Spencer. He… he’s possibly one of the best people I’ve ever met.” Emily had to smile at that last part.

“You know, he said the exact same thing about you.” She knew it wasn’t her place to tell, but she realized this woman needed to hear some positive words right now.

“He did?” Clarewater asked. Her eyes were still glassy. “So, you believe me?” And that was the question, wasn’t it. It had an easy answer now.

“Yes, Leah. I believe you,” Emily told her honestly. “I’m gonna be honest with you now and you need to hear this. The people we usually hunt, they’re like you. They’ve had a bad childhood or have some mental disorders, or something else to make them lash out… But not everyone who experiences trauma becomes killers. Some people are like you, they spend all their time and effort on helping others. You do need to remember, though, that you have to take care of yourself as well, okay?”

“I try…” Clarewater said in a hushed voice. “Or actually, that’s a lie. I want to try. I guess it’s just easier to take care of others than myself.”

“Maybe you should start by doing that, put yourself first?” Emily suggested.

“Maybe,” she shrugged, but Emily had a feeling she wouldn’t take that suggestion to heart. It wasn’t her place to say anything on the matter, not really, but oh how she wanted to. This woman had been through enough.

“I still have a few questions before we’re done, is that okay?” Emily asked, deciding it would best to just hurry things along so Clarewater could get some rest. “We found a gun in your car… Is there any reason you have it?” The woman fiddled a little in her seat, as if she didn’t quite want to answer the question. Emily actually believed that Clarewater wasn’t behind this, not anymore, but there were still so many questions and evidence still pointing towards her.

“Would you buy it if I said it’s for protection?” She asked, looking up at Emily through her lashes. “I want to be honest here, but I also really don’t want to get into detail about that… I bought the gun… years ago and it is for protection. I’ve never even fired it and it has nothing to do with Spencer so do I really have to go into details?” She looked genuinely uncomfortable, so Emily decided to let it go. But she still had some things to say on the matter.

“Hey, why you got it is actually none of my concern. It’s what you use it for that we’re interested in. I have to tell you this, since you’re still technically a suspect until we’ve ruled out everything, but we’re gonna test the gun, just to see if matches the gun we’re looking for. If it doesn’t, then there’s no problem here,” Emily informed her. She nodded shortly. “I also need to ask you about last night. We just need to hear your side of what happened after you left the library.”

“I uhm… I was just trying to read this book at the library. And I know this is probably gonna make me sound… even more suspect, I guess, but I’m hardly ever there. I just… lately I’ve been having a lot on my mind and I already explained how I am with emotions… I just couldn’t be at home alone, so I decided to just… head out. So, I went to the library and apparently I left my card by the printer. Spencer found it and returned it to me since I was still there,” she explained. Emily nodded for her to continue. It didn’t make her more of a suspect in her eyes, especially since she now believed closer to 90% that this woman wasn’t who they were looking for. “We got to talking, because… You know, he seemed nice. We didn’t really talk that much, because I got called into work around… I’m sorry, I know when they called and I know when I arrived, but my head’s still kind of a mess.”

“We checked and you clocked in at nine-fourty-eight,” Emily offered. Garcia had checked earlier.

“Yeah… that sounds about right. I always clock in the minute I walk into work. And if I remember correctly then they called around half something, so probably nine-thirty. It’s in my phone, so I can just check to make sure.” She said.

“No need, that seems to fit with the timeline.” Emily respond. “So, let’s say it took you around fifteen minutes to get from the library to work, does that sound right to you? You didn’t make any stops along the way?” The team had already checked this, estimating that with the light traffic so late at night it would probably take about ten minutes to drive that distance, and given the time it would take to park, get from the parking garage, change clothes and clock in fifteen-twenty minutes seemed more than plausible.

“No, I just headed straight in. They said it was an all hands on deck situation, so I got here as fast as I could.” She answered.

“Alright, that seems to match our timeline.” Emily told her. “I think that is enough for right now.”

“That’s… it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Emily offered the most reassuring smile she could muster. She had everything she needed. Sure, they’d have to wait for the ballisticstest on her gun to come back, but she already assumed that wouldn’t be a problem. “As I said before, we’re still going to check your gun, just a procedure. But if the test comes back negative then we can officially drop you as a suspect.”

“So… you actually believe me? This isn’t some kind of trick is it? Because I’ve been nothing but honest and if this-”

“Leah, I believe you.” Emily interrupted her, leaning forward in her seat a little. “Okay? I believe you.” She said it again, just to make sure Clarewater understood that she was genuine. Her initial response was to let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” she breathed out, her eyes watering a little again. “I mean, I shouldn’t be thanking you for not thinking I’m some lunatic who just goes around shooting random people, but… thank you.” Emily couldn’t help but laugh at that and suddenly she could see why Reid likes her so much.

“There’s no need to thank me, Leah. I just wanted answers and you were honest with me. That’s all I needed to know.” Emily shrugged.

“But you still thought I did this… and I still swear I didn’t, but doesn’t that… like, leave you back to square one?” Clarewater asked.

“It kind of does,” Emily agreed. “But we’ll catch whoever is behind this.” That caught Clarewater’s attention.

“Do you think whoever shot Spencer might be the same person who attacked me?” Emily had to purse her lips a little.

“It’s a theory,” she said. “But you being the person who shot Reid was also just a theory. So, it might just be a theory and nothing more than a theory.”

“I’m still a mess and that was a lot of ‘theory’s in the same sentence.” Clarewater said while shaking her head, looking a little lost. Emily found herself chuckling again. “But I think I got the point.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily said, a little sheepishly. “I should probably let you get some rest now. It’s been a long day for you, so remember what I told you about trying to take care of yourself, okay?” She nodded, but Emily still had her doubts about wether she’d actually listen to those words.

“I’m sorry, but what was your name again? I know it was something on ‘E’, I just think my brain is shutting down now.” Clarewater asked.

“Emily.” She smiled.

“Is it okay if I call you Emily or do you prefer Agent… something else I don’t remember.” Now that Clarewater was unofficially ruled out as a suspect Emily realized that she started to like her.

“Emily is just fine.” She replied.

“I know this is gonna sound really inappropriate, but can I hug you?” That was a really inappropriate request, but one that Emily couldn’t find it in herself to deny. So, she rose from her seat and the other woman met her halfway. They embraced and it wasn’t this earthshattering experience. There was no crying on the shoulder, no messing up make-up, just a comforting hug. But Emily found it that she had needed a hug just as much as Clarewater had.

“You try to get some rest, okay?” Emily said, stroking the other woman’s back a final time before stepping back. “I’m gonna have someone come in soon so they can collect the DNA-sample from your fingernails. And we might have some more questions for you later regarding your own assault, but for tonight I think you should just rest. Is that okay?” Clarewater nodded and went back over to her bed. She laid down in it, drawing the blankets around her.

“Hey, uhm, Emily?” She asked just as Emily was about to leave.

“Yeah?”

“You said if I remembered anything?” Clarewater started. “The man who attacked me… I’m pretty sure he was an addict or something.”

“What makes you say that?” Emily frowned.

“Or maybe not addict, but he was really irrational. When he… said those words, he said it when he was slamming my head into the ground. And he… Well, he was so angry, but his voice was calm. It was like his body was full of rage, but his mind wasn’t, if you know what I mean?” Clearwater explained and Emily did. “He just… he wasn’t sane is what I’m saying. I guess that’s something important for you to know.”

“It is.” Emily assured her. “It really is. Thank you, Leah. Now if there’s anything else, no matter how small the detail may be, then call me, okay?” Emily picked a card out of her pocket and left it on the nightstand before deciding she had occupied enough of Clarewater’s time.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “You’ll look out for Spencer, right? He’s a good guy.”

“Of course we will. He has a whole team behind him who cares about him very much.”

“That’s good. He deserves that.” Clarewater smiled once more and Emily took that as her que to leave. She almost didn’t even get out of the room before she called someone to collect the DNA-sample, feeling like that might answer one question if they’d get a match. Even though she walked out of Neurology feeling ten times lighter, she still felt like the more answers she’d gotten, the more questions popped up.

She returned to the ICU to find Morgan standing outside of Reid’s door, phone to his ear. She decided to wait for him to finish talking, so she started a friendly conversation with Anderson.

“What’d the girl say?” Morgan asked once he’d hung up.

“I don’t think it’s her.” Emily sighed, getting right to the important part.

“Well, ballistics agree with you.” He informed her and Emily’s eyes went wide.

“You got the report already?”

“Well, I told the chief to put a rush on it and what can I say? They really put a rush on it.” He laughed. Emily felt even lighter now.

“So, the gun didn’t match, then?” Emily asked, just to be sure.

“No. That was the gun expert I just talked to. He said he didn’t even need to test it since the gun hadn’t been fired in a while. He actually concluded that the gun had never been fired. But he did a testround anyway just to be sure and it doesn’t match.” So, Clarewater really had been telling the truth. Not that Emily had doubted that after the heart to heart they’d had, but it was good to have a solid piece of evidence as well.

“So, does that mean we can rule her out then?” Emily asked and Morgan shrugged.

“I mean, we still gotta brief the rest of the team and hear what Hotch has to say, but to me it’s a pretty straight case. We have no evidence tying her to any of the shootings or murders, we’ve all had mixed feelings about her, your good peopleknowing skills speak in her favour… And Reid’s as well. I say she’s no longer a suspect.” Morgan shrugged and Emily had never once in her life been so relieved that they’d caught the wrong person.

Tag list:

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @wooya1224 @haylaansmi

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x ofc #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fic #bau #spencer reid imagine

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radiosandrecordings · 4 years ago

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@iceeckos12 opened my eyes to pre-canon martingerry so. Take this. If Martin gets as protective as he does over Jon in canon, then it reasons he’d act the same even for a different boyfriend, right?

Jon doesn’t even look up as he’s speaking to him, still flicking through the file in his hands. “Martin I’m going to need some follow ups on the Swaine case, number 0132806. Tim is looking into the associated Leitner, but I’m going to need some research into,” he squints at the page, trying to parse his own handwriting, “Gerard and Mary Keay.”

Martin drops his cup, sending scattered shards across the floor.

“Oh good lord!” Jon takes two steps back to avoid the liquid spilling across the hardwood “Martin, be more careful.”

Martin doesn’t hear him. It takes him seconds, feels like minutes, hours, days, but he finally manages to choke out a response. It is quiet, and severe, more severe than Jon has ever heard him. “He’s in here?”

“What? Who is here,” Jon responds, twist round to check behind him, as if Martin were referring to a physical presence.

“Gerry,” and the graveness breaks, Martin’s voice cracking on the single syllable. He takes three steps forward, cheap porcelain cracking under heel. He grabs a fistful of Jon’s cardigan in one hand, gripping him by the shoulder, and Jon is suddenly reminded that Martin is by no means a small man. “When was this statement made?” he asks, taking the file from Jon in his other hand, and cursing under his breath when he reads the date.

He lets go of the handful of fabric, and takes the statement. Jon is too taken aback, and lets it be lift easily from his grip. When he finally shakes himself to his senses, he opens his mouth in protest. “Martin, what the hell was that?” his hands flit about, but he doesn’t attempt to take the statement back, knowing he’d lose that fight. Besides, whatever was wrong with Martin, it had clearly unsettled him deeply.

“Has he been in any others?” Martin says, declining to answer. He keeps flipping through the sheaf, despite there only being a handful of pages, getting to the end and starting back at the beginning, like he’ll find something different if he tries again.

“What? No, not that I know of, not as far as I’ve seen yet, at least. Martin what is going on? Do you know that man? Because if so, I have some concerns, that statement does not paint him in a very flattering light-”

“Oh you don’t get to talk about him like that,” and it is slowly dawning on Jon that this might be Martin, furious. It’s buried under layers, like it’s something he’s trying to hide, but the look in his eye and the set of his jaw tells Jon that this is a man who he should not try and cross. But Martin was... Martin was Martin. He wore soft jumpers and brought him tea and hummed while he worked. Who the hell was this Gerard guy, and what about him made Martin turn into this?

“I- I’m sorry, Martin, but please, explain for me? I have no idea who this man is, he shows up in the statement, any information you have on him would be incredibly beneficial.”

“Beneficial?” Martin spits the word like it’s an insult. “Jon, has it ever occurred to you just once in your life that some things are bigger than your project of the week?”

That one stings. It feels remarkably similar, too similar, to something Georgie had once said. It creates a lump in his throat.

“That sometimes other people are people, Jon. They’re not just statements to be seen to, details to be researched and verified and catalogued and stored away on a bloody archive shelf. You put up this veneer of academia and suddenly people aren’t people anymore. Yes, I bloody well know Gerard Keay.” He seemed to be running out of steam, chest rising and falling quickly with tense, laboured breathing. “I knew him- I knew him really well-”

Anger seemed to be winding down to sadness, and Jon could feel his face fall from a look of shock at the outburst to a concerned frown. “Martin I- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“He was my boyfriend, Jon.” The words come out as a sigh, whatever temper was driving Martin’s impassioned speech well and truly faded, slipping out like a sigh.

“Oh,” is all Jon can compose in response.

Jon may not be the best at consoling emotions. He may not even be mediocre at it. But it was clear that, considering Martin’s reaction and the context of the statement, he had taken a step too far, and would now have to go about fixing it.

“I see. Martin would you like to... Would you like to get tea with me?”

“What?”

“It’s just... This clearly is... Means a lot, to you. So I am offering to make you some tea and we can... Talk, about it, if you wish. Nothing on the record. Not for a statement. Just you, and I, and whatever it is you wish to say to me. Because it seems like that might be a lot. We don’t even have to talk about Gerard, if you don’t want. But if you do... Either way, I am willing to listen.”

Martin pauses, jaw slack, and Jon wouldn’t want to assume, but he seems slightly stunned.

He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, before responding. “... No tape recorders.”

“I- Yes, Martin. No tape recorders.”

Martin let out a breath. “Right. Okay. That’s- That would be nice. Thank you, Jon.”

‘Your welcome’ seemed a little inappropriate, Jon thought, so he settled on, “Good.” He looked down, and flicked some liquid off his shoe. “Shall we get this cleaned up first?”

#My Post #This feels like a prequel to. perhaps several things. one prompt in my inbox springs to mind and this also just feels unfinished #so maybe a point or two between this and that prompt to bridge the gap #Gerrymartin #Martingerry #Idk if there's an order that's supposed to go in #Jonmartin #Jongerrymartin #Because. kind of? eventual.#The Magnus Archives #My Writing

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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years ago

Text

My Foot is in the Door - Patrick Stump

Eyyyy, thanks for the request from the prompt list lovely anon! I went with a slightly different angle with the “ I’m calling to cancel our date because I’m actually in the ER right now, sorry. I mean… sure? I guess you can come down here but- okay…” context, since I’ve done it once already for Mr Healy and wanted to spice it up. Hopefully you still enjoy it. (Also, it didn’t eat the bottom half of your ask, I’m just a dumbass lol)

“Pete, I just don’t know why you set me up on this date.” Patrick huffed into the phone as he tried to find his tie. Where the fuck had he put it? When did he last even wear it..? Probably for that shitty wedding two years ago.

“Because you need to get laid, ‘trick.” His friend’s voice echoed down the line.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled as he flipped his laundry basket over. It wasn’t there either.

“It’s been ages.” Pete droned.

“Just because you need to fuck someone every three days doesn’t mean I have to.” He shot back, only to hear the bassist laugh in response. “I’m not gonna sleep with someone I’m not into. You know that, right?” He asked as he finally caught sight of the dark blue tie sticking out from one of his dresser drawers.

“You should.” He yanked hard on the tie, but it wouldn’t budge.

“That’s not how it works.” Patrick spat angrily as he pulled on the tie again.

“It is for me.” He could just hear the smugness in Pete’s voice. He didn’t want to go on this stupid fucking date. He’d done it as a favour and it had just backfired on him. The restaurant was ages away and way too fancy, he didn’t even like this girl, and now he couldn’t even get his fucking tie to look half decent.

“Pete, I swear to god-” He started as he spun around and kicked his door in frustration, only to feel pain shoot up his leg and leave him crumpled on the floor.

At the sound of the phone clattering to the floor and Patrick’s strangled cry of pain, Pete became slightly concerned. “Are you okay?” The singer heard his friend ask. His phone was only a metre away, but he felt like if he let go of his ankle he might die. Patrick also saw the sizeable hole that was now in his bedroom door.

“No. Obviously I’m fucking not!” He shouted in the direction of the receiver.

“What did you do?” Pete continued.

“Probably just broke my foot when I kicked the door because I was mad at you and my stupid tie.” He stared daggers at the piece of fabric in question as he said it, hoping that it was able to feel his wrath.

All he could hear was laughter. “You’re a dumbass.” He was going to choke on his rage any second now and just die here on the floor with a broken foot.

“I’m going to fucking smash your bass over your car if you don’t take me to the hospital.” He eventually said through gritted teeth when Pete’s laughter died down.

“Shit. I’ll be there in five.” He mumbled as he hung up the call.

“You fucking better be.”

The drive to the hospital was mostly just filled with the crackling of Pete’s shabby old radio. Patrick was in too much pain to speak. He worried that if he opened his mouth he might just scream, so he opted to keep it shut. He was also still mad at Pete for being the cause of this. But at least he’d gotten out of the date. Shit. The date. “I’d better call her and let her know not to go to the restaurant…” He muttered as he fumbled in his pocket for his phone.

“You probably should, yeah.” Pete nodded as they pulled into the carpark.

Patrick scrolled through his phone for her contact, before begrudgingly hitting the call button. She picked up after three rings, which was a shame – he had hoped he could just leave her a voicemail. “Look, I’m really sorry but I need to cancel our date.” He sighed.

“What? Why?” She asked in what sounded like frustration.

“I, uh… I think I’ve broken my foot?” He answered hesitantly.

“Oh my god!” She gasped loud enough that Patrick had to pull his phone away from his ear.

“So, it needs to be looked at-” He continued.

“Let me drive you!” She offered instantly. He could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the line.

“No, it’s fine, I’m already here-” He shook his head vehemently, even though he knew she couldn’t see it.

“I’ll meet you there. Just let me find my jacket.” She interrupted, clearly not listening to what he was saying.

He decided to just get to the point and be honest with her, “Seriously, I’d rather you didn’t-”

“I’ll see you soon!” She called out, before he heard the click of the call ending.

“I… guess?” He said in disbelief as he stared at the phone in his hand.

“Come on.” Pete said, gesturing in the direction of the hospital doors and holding a hand out to help Patrick get out of the car. Patrick slapped it away, deciding to hobble to the doors by himself.

Once he had checked in, taken a number and sat down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, he let out a long sigh. At least it wasn’t too busy in the waiting room at this hour. He felt far too dressed up to be here, still in his good pants and crisp shirt. But no emergency room was complete without a crying baby and a TV that was turned up slightly too loud. The jarring noises rattled around Patrick’s skull incessantly. Why couldn’t he have grabbed some headphones on his way out of the house? He let out another defeated sigh.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong or you just gonna wallow in your angst?” Pete asked, not even looking up from his phone.

“Why did you set me up with this girl?” Patrick moped. He could’ve had a pleasant evening by himself. But no, here he was with a fractured foot and a jerk.

“Because I am older and therefore wiser than you.” He spoke in an entitled tone.

“Get fucked.” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

“Because she’s hot.” That sounded much more accurate.

“Then why didn’t you just take her out?” He questioned.

“I took pity on you.” Pete said as he clapped a supportive hand down on Patrick’s shoulder, which he instantly shrugged off.

“I don’t fucking need your pity, Pete.” He frowned. The notion that he required relationship help from someone like Pete was just downright offensive.

“Well, you need something to help you out. You’re doing pretty hopelessly at the moment.” He said as he tried to wrap his arm around the younger singer.

“Hey! Fuck you!” He nearly shouted, moving to grab Pete’s arm off him. But he was too fast.

“I’m doing you a favour, man.” Pete chuckled. He was about to also need to check himself into the emergency waiting list if he continued like this.

“Mr Stump?” A voice called, right as Patrick had lined up his fist with Pete’s teeth.

“Oh, that’s me.” He mumbled in surprise. “This isn’t over.” He added, glaring at his friend. Pete just flashed his shit-eating grin in response. Patrick gave him the finger.

“He can come too-” The nurse started to offer.

“No!” He cut her off instantly. “He absolutely is not coming.” He said, scrambling to get to his feet and limp over to the nurse. She eyed him in concern before taking a few steps closer to help him walk.

“Come through here.” She instructed as she motioned towards a set of double doors.

“Sure thing.” He nodded as she wrapped an arm around his waist to try and keep some of the weight off his foot. Patrick couldn’t help but feel the little nagging voice at the back of his brain informing him that the attention was nice.

“Just sit here and let’s take a look.” She said as she sat him down in a chair and began rifling through a few drawers. Patrick watched her as she tried to find whatever equipment she was looking for. She was quite pretty. That just made this all the more embarrassing. Having an attractive person deal with your stupid, anger induced injury? Awful.

“I think I might’ve broken it, or fractured it.” He started to explain as he took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, trying to fill the awkward silence. She nodded along, listening to him elaborate on his pain.

“All right.” She finally said, having removed his swollen foot from his shoe. “Let me know if this hurts.” She said as she began to try and roll his ankle around. He took in a sharp breath, the pain was instantaneous.

“That… yep.” Patrick squeaked, trying hard not to yank his foot away. “Definitely hurts.” He nodded rapidly.

“One a scale of one to ten?” She asked as she gently put his foot back on the ground.

“Nine. Nine point five.” He said quickly, rubbing at the stubble on his chin to stop himself from crying out in pain.

“Okay.” She said, turning around to make some notes on his file. “There doesn’t seem to be any abrasions or cuts, what did you do to it?” She questioned.

“I… er… I was worked up on the phone and kicked a door too hard.” He admitted sheepishly as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“Must’ve been an intense conversation you were having there, Mr Stump.” She said with an amused look.

“My friend out there set me up on a shitty date.” He said, jabbing a thumb towards the door.

“Oh? Why was it so bad?” She asked as bandaged his foot to try and keep the swelling compressed.

“The girl he set me up with is more of his type of girl than mine, and now he’s just trying to guilt trip me into going on a date with her.” He explained with a huff. As he said it, he heard her familiar shrill voice echoing in through the waiting room door. “Oh my god, that’s her.” He said, shrinking down in his chair. “Please don’t let her know I’m back here.” He pleaded. He was trying not to sound desperate, but was absolutely certain he was failing.

“You don’t want her to know you’re okay?” She asked with a confused frown.

“I really don’t want to be on this date.” He said truthfully, scratching at one of his sideburns. “I told her I was going to the ER and she just told me she’d meet me her. I tried to ask her not to but she insisted.”

“Fair enough.” She shrugged as she grabbed a set of crutches. “I’m going to send you off for an x-ray to verify exactly what you’ve done. It’s just down the…” She was about to send him back through the waiting room to go down to the x-ray clinic, but then realised he probably didn’t want to go past this date of his. And the puppy dog look he was giving her was too sweet to resist. “Let’s go the back way.” She suggested.

“Thanks.” He grinned.

After a slow and shaky trip down to the x-ray machines, the nurse left him in the technician’s capable hands. The scan took less than five minutes. But then a further ten minutes was spent by Patrick prying to know what his foot looked like. Was it broken? Fractured? Sprained? The answer of ‘I’m not the doctor, I can’t tell you’ just wasn’t good enough. Also, he’d rather not leave this nice, confined room just yet. But eventually he had to give up and go back to the waiting room. He apprehensively pushed the door open, feeling a rush of relief to see Pete sitting by himself.

“Hey, man. What did they say?” He asked as Patrick hobbled over.

“I don’t know. They have to wait for the x-ray to come back.” He said as he tried to sit down. Crutches made everything so much more difficult to manoeuvre.

“Do they think it’s broken?” He continued to question.

“I don’t know.” He said again. “Where did she go?” He asked, glancing around the waiting room.

“She went out to go get a coffee.” Pete answered. A coffee at 11pm? Geez. “Did you want me to-”

“No!” Patrick instantly shouted, earning a death stare from the receptionist at his volume. “No.” He said again, quieter.

“I’ll let her know when you’re free next?” He suggested. It looked like he was trying to contain his stupid smile.

“Please don’t.” Patrick groaned.

The bandages soothed the pain somewhat. Which was helpful considering it was another hour in the waiting room before the results of his x-ray came back. “Mr Stump, please come through.” The same nurse called out.

“Coming!” He spoke, quickly getting to his feet. Pete watched his lack of coordination with the crutches with amusement, at one point sticking his foot out just to be difficult. Patrick stomped on it with his good foot, earning a yelp out of the bassist.

“Take a seat.” The nurse said when he eventually managed to get into the room.

“Is there a reason you never say my first name?” Patrick asked as he leaned his crutches against the wall.

“What?” She asked, seemingly caught off guard.

“You keep calling me Mr Stump.” He elaborated, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh, well… it’s just procedure, I guess? We’re told to refer to patients by their surname.” She answered.

“You can call me Patrick.” He said. She looked over at him, and he suddenly felt self-conscious under her stare. “Uh, if you want, anyway.” He added with a nervous grin. She just smiled back at him.

“Looking at your x-rays, it’s not broken.” She said, bringing them up on her screen.

“Oh, that’s good.” He said, the news brightening his mood.

“You’ve just dislocated it.” She continued, pointing out the leg bone that wasn’t sitting flush with his foot like it should be on the scan.

“That’s… not good.” He said quietly. The worries started building in his head about what that meant for their gig next weekend. Would he even be able to walk by then? Let alone be on stage for an hour?

“It’s not great Patrick, no.” She laughed lightly. The way she said his name pulled him out of his spiralling. “You really did a number on yourself.” The smile on her face made his heart rate start climbing. He realised after a second that he was just staring at her like a love-sick puppy, and should probably say something.

He cleared his throat before speaking, “So, um… What do I do now?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat to get a better look at the x-ray.

“We’re going to need to move the bones back into place.” She replied. He instantly grimaced. “It won’t be as bad as you think. It’ll hurt less once it’s sorted.” She reassured him.

“I’ll take your word for it.” He nodded grimly as he pulled a hand through his hair.

“We’re going to need to take you through to one of the doctors to get them to do it.” She said as she stood up and started moving towards the doors.

“Aw, man. More walking?” He complained. “These crutches are so hard to use.” He mumbled as he got to his feet.

“Have you adjusted them?” She questioned.

“What?”

“Have you adjusted them? To be correct to your height?”

“Oh, uh… no? How do I do that?” He stared down at the large metal contraptions. After a brief moment of laughing at him, she helped him sort out the crutches to be more comfortable. Usually, he would get pretty defensive at being laughed at, but in this moment, he was just happy to have made the cute girl laugh. Maybe all the adrenalin was messing with his brain.

As they stepped out into the waiting room, the nurse nudged his shoulder. “It would seem your friend is having a better night than you are.” She said quietly.

“Huh?” He looked around the room in confusion, before spotting what she was referring to. He caught sight of Pete walking out of the hospital, with his date hanging off his arm. The bastard then had the audacity to turn around and flash Patrick a thumbs up over his shoulder. The fucker.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Patrick said through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his crutches.

“Wait until your foot is better first.” He heard the nurse say.

“What?” He frowned.

“Don’t wanna give him any extra advantages or you might not succeed.” She explained.

He looked at her in bewilderment for a second, before starting to laugh. “I’m liking you more and more by the minute.”

She ushered him through to the doctor’s room, leaving him sat there waiting and worrying for the next twenty-five minutes. Finally, a doctor came in to reposition his foot. They ran him through a few things that they were going to do, before just jumping right in. The pain was on a new level from anything he had felt before as the doctor forcibly moved his bones. But once it was set as it should be, it started to ebb away slightly. Once the procedure was done, the doctor relegated him back to the nurse’s office. He sat quietly, massaging his ankle slightly to try and relieve some of the ache.

“Patrick, good to see you still in one piece.” She said as she came back into the room.

He looked up at her in surprise, unable to stop himself from cracking a smile. “Good to have my foot reconnected to my leg.” He shot back.

“The doctors sorted you out, then?”

“Yeah.” He nodded as he fiddled with the hat in his hands. “They said you had some medication for me?” He added.

“Yes. I do.” She began grabbing a box out from the cupboard above her computer before handing it to him. “Only take these painkillers once a day - I’d recommend using them to sleep.” She instructed with a serious expression.

“Got it.”

“Keep your foot elevated when you can to reduce the swelling, ice it if it’s hurting too much.” She continued.

“Okay. I can do that.”

“And if you’re really struggling,” She started, handing him some paperwork. “Feel free to ask me for help.”

He looked at her in confusion, before looking down at the papers to see a number written across the top. It took him a second for the pieces to click into place. “Really?” He grinned in disbelief.

“Take care of yourself, Patrick.” She smiled sweetly.

“But if I don’t, I’ll see you more.” He pointed out.

“You can see me without injuring yourself.” She laughed, rolling her eyes at his suggestion.

“Good to know.” He felt like his heart was beating so fast it might explode.

“Terrible night a little bit better now?”

“Much.”

#Patrick Stump x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein #Sunsetinmyvein prompts #Sunsetinmyvein requests

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albino-whumpee · 3 years ago

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First mistake

In which we learn Albus can´t see anything.

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker

CW// Pet whump, dehumanization, defiant whumpee, migraines, whumpee as caretaker. Pretty mild one.

Days later, Albus was having a headache.

It was getting harder to read the reports or even his own notes, and his eyes weren´t taking lightly the increasing strain.

“Are you taking anything for that?” Sasha asked with cards and papers scattered around their table on the cafeteria.

Albus grunted “I can´t take medicine” he said squinting harder at his excel document. Re-reading it for the tenth time.

“You allergic?” Tony asked scratching his head before showing the boy the piece he was working on “Hey, what do you think of this?” Albus sighed, giving up on trying to understand.

“I don´t need them” The boy took a look at the man´s tablet and was marveled as always. But the colors made him stare away. Too vibrant for him “It´s good” he said closing his eyes for a second.

“Dude are you sure about that?” Sasha asked stopping the sound of rushed typing.

“I have gone through worse without them. I´m fine” he growled annoyed at her insistence “Why does this have last week´s numbers?” he showed her his tablet. She took a look and then directed an even more worried look at him.

“Because it´s last week report, Albus. I sent you the new version an hour ago” she explained making him look at her and then at the tablet.

“No, it´s version 8 right? It´s this one, look” he said feeling a tug on his chest when she shook her head and Tony stretched his neck.

“Ah, no it says right there it´s version 6″ the man said as Sasha pointed with her finger the number 6 at the top. Now more visible at the distance. “See?” the boy sighed before covering his face with his hand.

“Good thing you haven´t sent it to Zarai” Sasha tried to comfort him, but when he didn´t say anything both stared at him. “You didn´t…”

“No, not yet” he said making both sigh in relief. “I have two hours left at least” he said opening the mail app and downloading the correct document. Using index and middle to expand the screen and verify the file´s name.

Sasha looked at Tony and then back at the boy “No, it´s due in half”

“What?” The boy jumped and rushed to check on his notes. His breath growing quicker until he read the actual note and his heart skipped a beat. His eye trembled, before he let himself fall on the table covering his head in a quiet attempt to soothe himself from the anxiety.

He had had trouble reading back at the facility. They had partially erased that part of him before, only to reinstall it later as “costume training” as the handlers liked to call it. It had taken more than just a few hits on his right hand and on his thighs to learn to read and write again without passing out. Despite the white pain he had felt at the beginning, he had gotten used to the small burn at the back of his eyes.

His sight was blurry and even now making up letters up close was difficult sometimes. But he thought it would be fine as long as he squinted enough. He was slow because he always expanded the screen to read…

Was it really something so small, reason enough to get him fired? He shivered and hugged himself harder as he realized that it was enough. Ma´am had a long history of firing slow workers and he couldn´t let that happen.

He trembled at the thought of being returned to the white walls, with its freezing tiles and the muffled sounds of people screaming. The electricity ran through his limbs like a ghost´s caress.

Tony looked at Sasha and reached to tap on his shoulder. Only making him jump away “Hey, hey! It´s ok, Albus, hey, don´t worry man, let me help you with that” the words made Albus teary eyes look up at him at the exact moment Tony gave him his glasses.

The boy blinked a few seconds trying to accustom to the clear view. If just a bit blurry but definitely an improvement.

“Ah, just like I thought. Look here” he pointed to his tablet and he followed his finger to see the document with literal new eyes. “You can read them better right?” Albus nodded.

“Hah, welcome to the four eyes club” Sasha giggled as she went back to work “So you were cranky because your eyes hurt huh? You don´t need to go through pain if I can help it you know. I´ve got ibuprofen in my bag all the time”

“I´ve heard its normal for albinos to have poor sight, didn´t you use glasses before? Your eyes have that little...hm, tremble, you know?” Tony asked him, but he put the act as if he was too busy fixing the document to avoid answering. He didn´t know anyways and time was running out too fast for him to worry about the blinding pain from trying to summon memories kept under the fog.

“Thank you Tony, you´re a life saver” he said so meaning it more than the man could know “I´ll do anything to pay back the favor…just…need to finish this…” he wasn´t lying, but for his luck, he took it as a joke and allowed himself to focus in making his fingers fly on the screen. After Tony simply nodded and waited a few minutes, the man chuckled at the concentration face he put.

“You´re sticking your tongue out” he giggled taking a photo, just before he stood up to sprint to the printer down the hall.

“You´re done?!” Sasha and him yelled, jaw hanging open.

He took the paper and read it on his way back to the table “It took me an hour because I couldn´t see the numbers but now?” he smiled shaking the papers in his hands. “Thanks Tony! I´ll give them back later!” the albino shouted, trotting to his owner´s office.

“Good luck!” he managed to hear before he entered the elevator.

He recomposed as he entered the office. Only to find Zarai crying.

She quickly turned around to face the window wiping the tears off.

“M-Ma´am?” he asked, stepping inside and closing the door. “Are you…?”

“Where´s my report, Albus? You´re two minutes late” she cut him out with a husky voice. Albus shifted the papers on his hands.

“I´m sorry, ma´am”

“Knock on the door next time” her voice shifted to that of anger. The boy stared at the documents for a second, before laying them on her desk.

“I´m sorry, ma´am. I´ll do better next time” he replied in a low voice. He stood there twisting his fingers anxiously, until she turned to face him. Her face looked older, showing some signs of fatigue that didn´t have anything to do with work.

“It´s not like you have a choice right?” she said taking the papers and quickly passed them over to let her prodigious memory work as Albus kept his head down in submission. She put the document down and stared at him. “Are those Tony´s glasses?” Albus hadn´t noticed until now that he still had them on. It was comfortable seeing clearly, but he quickly put them on his pockets. “Why do you have them?”

“I, uh…” he stuttered thinking how to string the words together “He lent them to me”

One eyebrow shot up, “I can see that. Since when do you need glasses?” she asked with her brows in a knot. Albus swallowed, fearing he might have become an inconvenience. Undesirable. But he couldn´t ignore her.

“I´m not sure ma´am…” He managed to say.

“They didn´t say anything about bad vision… its recent then?” she mumbled to herself “Do you see well on those?” the question left him frozen.

“…yes, ma´am” he answered after a second. She nodded absent mindedly before standing up.

“Well, check where there´s an optic store and we will go after work. You have to give Tony back his glasses before he stamps himself against a wall” Albus stayed still as he realized she had joked with him. She gave him a look “Yes, I can try be funny sometimes too. I´m not made of ice” she wiggled her hands in a Duh- gesture. “You´ll have to pay for them yourself though. You can do that now” She proceeded to walk out the office for her evening smoke. “Thank you ma´am” he managed to say before she made a gesture as if to close the door but regretted at the last second. “Yes, ma´am?”

“Do you need a pill for that?” she asked leaning on the door frame.

“No, ma´am. I´m fine” he lied, putting a smile the woman didn´t fell for.

“I have ibuprofen on my purse. Take one, please” she ordered him before turning on her heels and closing the door.

The boy let out a sigh.

She was so hard to read.

—-

He stayed there for a while, searching for a place like she had ordered him to. But couldn´t stop thinking about her.

How he had found her crying.

It was true he had seen her gloomy and contemplative lately. More than usual. Definitely more emotional than normal. Hugging Momo and staring at the garden for a long time until she stood up and left to her room.

He wondered if it didn´t have anything to do with that weekend´s trip with Claude and Mister Robert. What was it? Why was she in so much pain?

Albus glanced at the photo on her desk. The one with the kids and Sann´s clone. He already had a hunch about what could it be, but… it wasn´t his place to ask and if she didn´t tell him, it wasn´t information he needed to know.

Browsing the internet the sudden realization he would be seeing Sann for the weekend popped on his head and made him blush. He looked at his hands and tried remembering the lady from the sign language video.

“My…” He pointed with his index at his chest and then pulled up both hands in front. Forming “H” with both hands and then ticking one above the other. “Name is…” then he formed each letter. Stumbling a bit between U and S. Sighing at the way he still needed practice to teach it to Sann.

He was breaking one of the most endorsed rule of the facility by thinking about him.

“Don´t get attached to the others”

But he wasn´t there anymore.

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aliypop · 3 years ago

Text

And So It Starts

Wordcount: 2,063

Warning: ANGST and I guess Spoilers maybe

Authors notes : I wanted to do a big story to introduce my new character Astrid Sodotirr that I made for Loki and I really really hope you guys like her.

"I'll tell you jail is no fun." One of the women around the table remarked, "Agnes, you've been to jail?" the familiar-looking redhead said, sitting across from the lady who was now known as Agnes. "Once, in Monopoly." she laughed as they soon looked at their new "neighbor." She had a look of confusion on her face, almost as if she didn't belong. "Ah dear, what was your name again?" Agnes asked, watching as the curly brunette shook from her trance. "Astrid, Astrid Sodotirr." she looked at them both. The redhead had a look of discomfort while Agnes on, the other hand, was thrilled,

" So Scandinavian." she smirked, "Interesting, unlike my husband, Ralph." she then turned, "Isn't that right Wanda,"

"Uh yes... Sodotirr like the goddess of chaos?" she asked as Astrid looked at her, her usual garments replaced with 80's activewear. "Yes, my mom was huge into Mythology ." she laughed, finding that her voice didn't even sound like her own. It felt like a fantasy world, something that not even her magic could comprehend.

"My mother was just heavy into drinking." Agnes joked,

"Well, girls, I should go get going. Ralph isn't going to rub lotion on himself..." She winked, leaving. Wanda and Astrid stood in the living room waiting for her obnoxious neighbor to walk away before orbs of teal and red appeared from their hands. "Why are you here..." Wanda growled, "We all saw you die..." Astrid dodged the red beam,

"Do that again, Maximoff, and you'll join Vision and your brother!" she threw out a blast, "Then tell me how you broke in..." her eyes glowing red,

"I DON'T KNO-" she stopped talking as the sound of footsteps marched up the driveway of the 80s household Astrid. began taking the green stone out of her sweatband,

"I think they're here for you ..." Astrid whispered as one of them took the stone out of her hand, "Hey!"

"Variant found..." one of the minutemen said as two others grabbed onto her,

"On behalf of the Time-Variant Authority, I here by arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline."

"She's the one making false realties!" Astrid snarled at the witch,

"Hands up, you're coming with us..."

"Glady..." Astrid smirked, lifting her hands striking two of the minutemen. As she ran up the block, Astrid was falling slowly to the ground in slow motion.

"She stole the Time sto-" Wanda tried to finish.

"Reset the timeline..." the soldier said as they pushed the young woman through a portal, "Hey, I'm a princess, careful how you man handle me!" she growled, looking at the grossly colored orange walls. Taking her to what seemed like a receptionist desk as a young blonde man sat chipper and happy logging her into their system, "What species..." he asked,

"Asgardian... and she brought this with her..." the minuteman threw the stone on the desk.

"Oh great, another paperweight."

"Mobius, just get rid of it..." she sighed, cranking the lever as she threw Astrid inside the elevators,

"When Loki finds out about this... he... he won't be... WOAH!" a robotic arm touched her vibrant pink leotard, "I'm not that easy." she grumbled as the machine told her to hold still, lasering off the tacky 80's clothing leaving her in absolutely nothing as a trapped door opened,

Astrid was standing in front of a stack of papers dressed in a tan jumpsuit with TVA on it, "Please verify this is everything you've ever said." a voice said, startling her.

"What in Odin's missing eye is this," she said, another piece added to the pile.

"Please verify this is everything you've ever said." he handed her a pin as she began signing away. Astrid began to think that maybe marrying Thor would have been a safer option than whatever this was. As another trap door opened, Astrid stood in front of a metal detector.

"Please confirm to your knowledge that you are not a fully robotic being, were born an organic creature, and do possess what many cultures would call a soul." Astrid looked down towards the voice as her brows furrowed from the question, "Do people not know they're robots..." she asked, walking through as the machine took her picture, "Because if they didn't know..."

"They'd melt, now take your temporal aurora and walk through the door..." he sighed, watching as burst through as if she owned the place. Brown walls and bright lights paved her path while two-minute men watched and gestured to the take-a-ticket sign. "You have got to be kidding me," she mumbled as she took a ticket, walking through the guided path. Astrid watched as other prisoners went through, while others erased.

"Next case!" Astrid walked through the door's benches full of people, " Sodotirr, Variant A1020, AKA Astrid Sodotirr, charged with sequence violation 7-20-80." the judge said, walking to the stand. Astrid grumbled in aggravation,

" And who would I have the honor of these charges being blessed upon me by? "

"The timekeepers..." The judge said.

"Oh, the ones from the annoying clock lady..." she nodded as a few guards snickered,

"How do you plead..."

"I've only ever pleaded to one man... on occasion a few women..." she winked, "Now if you excuse me, I really should be go-" she snapped her fingers as nothing happened, "I should be going..." she mumbled, "Hold on..."

"If you're trying to use your powers, they don't work here now. However, I find you guilty, and perhaps pruning you would do just fine..." The judge hit her mallet until one of the minutemen whispered in her ear.

"Pruned... I don't like the sound of that."

"It has come to my concern that... Ravonna will be your consoler. Take the variant away..." the judge sighed as Astrid breathed, the once minuteman guiding her towards the elevator.

"I'm Ravonna Renslayer, now a Time agent of the TVA." she smiled at the variant.

"How long have you been here?"

"Well, you know what they say. Time passes differently here in the TVA." she nodded, leading her out the elevator and around the halls of the main building, "How cute, you know you should've done your research before deciding to go after me..." Astrid said, turning her head as her curls bounced along. As the doors opened, the two sat in front of a tiny TV, "Trust me. We've been doing our research since you were deemed crowned and named princess and goddess." She laughed, putting the flash drive in as she started her file.

"You know you're surprisingly good at complying..."

"Happens when you get told to all your life..." she mumbled. Astrid looked up at the screen memories played, some that were pleasant and some there were, "That one's a bit risky... If I were you, I'd skip it." she laughed, watching as the scene of a harvest festival on Asgard played.

There stood Sif, Thor, and Loki. Astrid, who was taste testing ale, had been a little tipsy. She found herself clinging onto Loki. She appeared to be younger, no more than 16 at the time. Dressed in gold to "compliment": Thor, her only view was the Prince of Asgard. "What would your mother say if she found you so full..." Loki winked. Tilting her chin up, "She'd say absolutely nothing because you are not to tell her..." Astrid gave him a burst of laughter sweeter than all the honey of Asgard,

"Oh but, I might..." he leaned in closer to her, their foreheads touching, "Then I'll tell Odin you took me away from Thor..." she whispered, stealing a kiss from him.

"You cheeky Minx.." he laughed.

"So why Loki..." Ravonna asked,

"Maybe I am..." she responded to the memory, clearing her throat, "Well, we understood each other..." she folded her hands together. "We were different yet so similar." her heart sinking in her chest as the last memories of Loki passed through, "Would you say your childhoods were the same..." Ravonna asked, not even savoring her answer. Before she could finish, there stood the memory of her mother locking her in a tower.

"You are courageous yet dumb... you are a disappointment I wish I never birthed..." Amidala laughed, yanking at the chain around her neck. "Purposeless child.."

"I was born with a purpose!" she shouted at the screen, "One you'd never see coming, one of courage and rage..." a tear falling on her cheek, Ravonna made a side note in her notepad, " You know for someone who's such a threat you don't act like one..."

Astrid turned to face her, her hands gripping on the table, "Just a sad little girl who thinks she knows what she's doing... when her purpose was to die..."

"Everyone dies..."

"Yes, but not how you did..."

"First Wanda, now you." She laughed, "What is this about me, the all-mighty Astrid of Vanaheim dying," Astrid asked, "Perhaps, I'll leave you with what happened before you screwed up the timeline..." she smirked, walking out the spacious holding cell.

"This is against the Norns for a mere puny human to tell me how I died." her back facing the screen as she heard an all so familiar scene.

"The rightful king of the Ottenheim God of mischief do hereby pledge to you my undying fidelity..."

"Loki, wait!" Astrid ran towards Loki, his dagger not yet lodging into Thanos. The two looked over as Thanos only laughed, "Undying, you should choose your words carefully..." he laughed, throwing Astrid against a jagged rock watching as he snapped Loki's neck sat Thor, who had to watch the two people in his life waste away in front of him.

"Don't... leave... m..."

END OF FILE

"Some courage ... " Ravonna laughed, "It got you killed... why would you do that..."

"I wanted affection... I wanted attention. I wanted to be perfect..." she sobbed in the corner,

"That's pathetically sad..." Ravonna then got an idea, "But if you work with us, you can have those things. " she stuck her hand out, watching as the goddess looked up at her like a scared child looking for hope.

"Alright, we've got a variant..." Mobius sighed, "Astrid is this one right... Astrid?" he questioned. Astrid ran over as she saw a Loki variant tapping him on the shoulder. He took out his dagger, placing it near her neck,

"How attractive..." she rolled her eyes,

"You insolent worm, I should feed you to the fish who feed upon Odin..."

"Nice try..." she used her powers to immobilize him. Being a Time-Variant hunter had been slowly running her down. After all, she figured out how to play their game then attack,

But it was getting hard when they were looking for Loki and herself. "Take him away..." she sighed, walking into the office back to Casey's receptionist office as her eyes laid upon a suspicious blue box.

"Hey, you know what this is..."

"Tesseract... and It's very dangerous and..." she picked him up by his shoulders, "By the Norns, if you do not tell me who was wielding this, you will wish to whatever God you pray to that they have mercy over you..." she threatened him.

"He's an Asgardian..." Casey gulped.

"Where did he go..."

"Behind that door, I think..." Astrid tried to pull the lever, "You're not authorized!" he shouted, watching as she went to the elevator, only taking her back to her cell. Her ears pressed against the door as she heard Mobius talking as he usually did, but this time a voice she had recognized too well.

"Where are you taking me... by the grace of, Astrid you'll."

"You really don't like talking much, do you, little fella," Mobius sighed, shoving him in the cell. What felt like hours was only minutes when Mobius felt like he had gotten nowhere at all. As Mobius left the cell, so did Astrid. Following the footsteps of and the smell of Asgard's finest colognes, she found herself at Casey’s desk: the draw open with scattered infinity stones showing just how powerful the TVA was struck a bit of fear in the Goddesses' heart.

"Where was he..."

"I don't know... But, uh, what's a fish?" Astrid laughed, "I'll tell you later." she laughed, walking back as a hand reached out and pulled her into a cell.

Lips crashing on top of hers bodies pressed together.

" Astrid, my love..."

"Loki..." she asked.

#loki laufeyson #loki series #loki x oc #loki fandom #loki fanfic #Astrid sodotirr loki oc #new series maybe #tell me if you like it #please tell me

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quietmyfearswith · 4 years ago

Text

where our demons hide {dark!tony stark x fem!reader}

where our demons hide {dark!tony stark x fem!reader} part 1

status — ongoing series

warnings — non-con turns into dub-con, oral sex (giving & receiving), name-calling, swearing, porn with a bit of plot, dark!tony stark, unprotected penetrative sex (pls dont do this, use protection!)

word count — 3,205

a/n — so i’m not gonna lie this is a little self-indulgent and this was an idea i somehow had after reading a few fics/drabbles with the same premise. this will be a dark series featuring not only tony stark but also the other male avengers. i’m also considering on making a separate dark series featuring the female avengers with the same concept. also!!! infinity war, civil war, and endgame did not happen (totally not bc everything went downhill from there & i hate it but because it just would be more fitting for the story) and that tony & pepper are not in a relationship in here bc in this house we do not condone cheating. & this is my first ever time writing smut so feedback would be very much appreciated :>

masterlist

“Boss lady, you heading out already?” John asked as he knocked on the outside of my office door. Seeing him with his bag strap over his shoulder, it made me turn back my attention briefly to the desk clock I had, my eyes widening in shock as I noticed how it was already a quarter to 9. “Jesus, has it been that long?” I said to him and to myself in disbelief.

John chuckled as he approached my desk and moved some files out of the way and sat down, “Well time sure does fly when you’re working your ass off.” I threw my head back, trying to rub off of the exhaustion off of my eyes, agreeing with him by saying, “As the head of the research department, I don’t think I have time to slack off and mess around.”

As I looked into his eyes, I felt that he was conflicted — that he did want to help me furthermore, but there was also this part of him that wanted nothing but to spend a night out and enjoy himself and afterwards proceed with crashing into his bed. He inched closer to me, “You need to take a break though. Your report is like, 90% done, and that it is extremely well-detailed and comprehensive. I’m sure the mighty heroes of the world will understand if you go home now, rest and enjoy for the weekend, and come back on Monday to finish it up.”

“Do you think that these mighty heroes of the world always have the option to take a break on the weekends and come back to the job on Monday?” I sassed back as I moved my attention from him back to my computer, searching for more essential information for the team’s next mission. John, not taking a hint that I had already wasted time by talking to him, scooted closer and said, “Well for one, your work does not involve travelling suspects and mercenaries. You’re computer ain’t going anywhere, you know?” as he brushed a strand of hair that has fallen from my ponytail as he explained, “I just don’t want you to overwork yourself. I really care about you, Y/N.”

Creating some distance between me and him, I looked at him pointedly and told him, “I get that you may be worried about how I overwork myself, but I’m okay. If it ever gets too much, I will take a break. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish this research and report so that I can go home and get some rest. Unless you’ll help me in accomplishing this task, then I suggest that you just leave.”

John looked like he was in disbelief, but he quickly masked up what he felt and just walked away from my desk and awkwardly waved as he headed for the door. “What a bitch..” I heard him mumble lowly, not having enough strength to say it directly in my face — for in doing so could get him fired.

Following John’s departure, I was able to work peacefully and productively. Gathering and verifying information, confirm tipped intelligence, compiling these into an extensive and coherent report. As I was re-reading once more the final product of my long hours of labor and hard work, I stretched my arms up, hoping to provide some relief to my aching back.

“Mr. Stark would like to ask if he can swing by your office, Ms. Y/n,” the voice of the A.I. startled me briefly, but it somehow also brought me back to my senses. Wanting to look decent and not like I was mere minutes away from passing out, I quickly removed the hair tie from my ponytail, fixing up my hair as I replied to Friday, “Yeah, he can come up.” As I was done attempting to look presentable, it wasn’t even a minute until I heard the office door open and the man himself, Tony Stark, did walk in — wearing a tight dri fit shirt and sweatpants.

“Good evening Mr. Stark, was there anything I can help you out with?” I watched as he walked around the office, as if he was checking out if everything was in place — as if he had been there before and was making sure that things were the way he once envisioned. He settled down on an office chair, opposite from where I was sitting down.

Putting his chin on his hand as he crossed his legs, he stared at me curiously and intensely as he informed me about his sudden visit, “Was walking around the office wing when Friday informed me that you were the only employee left in the building. So I thought I’d drop by and see as to what was the reason as to why you were still working late and not going about with your weekend plans.”

I let out a sigh I did not know I was holding — probably out of relief that I was not in trouble — before sharing with him the reason, “I was just finishing up the final touches on the researched information for your mission next week.” He looked interested in that and rose to his feet and made his way to where I was sitting. “You mind if I take a look?”

I shook my head no and started to get up from my seat, when he placed his left hand on my shoulder, pulling me down to remain seated. “Stay,” he requested as his right hand operated the mouse in order to inspect the document opened on my computer, “I might have some remarks or questions about what you have researched.”

Beginning to feel a bit of uneasiness, I tried to fill him in about some parts I thought he was confused or curious about — judging by how he spent some time longer on certain pages compared to the others. “You did a good job, Y/N. Without a doubt next week’s mission would have already failed without what you have done.”

Avoiding his look and our close proximity, I shrugged off the compliment by responding, “Um, thank you. But it wasn’t just me, you know? Some other researchers also helped, I merely just organized and arranged it, Mr. Stark.” His hand still on my shoulder moved to turn me so I was facing him, he sat down on my desk and begged to differ, “I don’t think you would have been the overall head of the research department if all you did was compile shit, right?”

Fiddling with my fingers, I halfheartedly agreed with what he said. Looking up, I saw him cross his arms and his face lit up, as if he had remembered something he forgot to mention. “Which reminds me, I do need your help in researching something. Think you can handle it?” I was able to conceal my surprise, what was it he needed help with? And most importantly, why would he tell me about it now? There are procedures if an Avenger needs something to be researched relating to their work. But I could not bring myself to question him, so instead I buried those doubts in the back of my head.

“T-That would depend, I guess? What is it about? And w-when do you need it to be completed?” I couldn’t help but scold myself for coming out as timid and scared. He uncrossed his arms and checked his wrist watch while he answered, “I need it to be completed tonight. Possibly into the morning. It depends.”

My jaw dropped in shock and astonishment. Does he seriously think that a research can be completed in mere hours? But if I had wanted to keep this job, then I had to comply with what he wanted. “I think that it would be a challenge to do so, but yeah. I guess it can be doable. What would the research be about?” I managed to blurt out and started to roll up the sleeves of my white, long-sleeved blouse and preparing to type on the computer.

However, Tony held my hands and placed it in my lap, preventing me from moving towards the computer and looked at me deeply, “It’s gonna be about you, Y/N.” I once again found myself dumbfounded and speechless. Opening my mouth I stammered out, “W-What? Mr. Stark, what do you mean?”

He chuckled as he brushed the strands of hair that had covered a portion of my face. One of his hands stroking my cheek while the other had a firm hold on both my hands situated at my lap, he calmly said, “It’s gonna be about you, baby. I wanna get to know you better. Let’s start with me finding out what it is you’re hiding underneath all these clothes, hm?”

As he guided me onto my feet and pushed me against the office table, his lips grazed my ear and he kissed it lightly and whispered, “I like the way you call me Mr. Stark, makes me feel powerful.” His kisses started to descend, his lips leaving a trail in my neck as his hands started to caress my waist. Snapping out of my frozen state, I somehow managed to speak up and attempt to push him away from me, “Mr. Stark, please don’t do this. Please, stop”

With one hand, he quickly grabbed both of my hands and placed it behind my back. His other hand wrapped around my throat, just where his lips were and hissed out, “Why do you want me to stop, Y/N? Do you not like this, baby?” I shook my head, telling him I did not in fact like where this was going. He scoffed, “I think you do. You like the idea of someone taking you in your office, the place where you spend most of your days in. Can’t imagine you getting laid frequently with how busy you are, baby.”

Tears were slowly streaming down my face, trying to wiggle away from the hero that everyone adored and respected. He pushed his body into mine, causing me to stumble which he used to his advantage by lifting me up and sitting me down on the desk. His legs wrapping around mine, effectively trapping me, he lifted my jaw and looked into me as he smirked and said, “Tell you what, if I search you up down there and find that you aren’t wet, I’ll let you go. Think that’s fair, baby?”

He did not even wait for me to answer as he made quick work of removing my skirt as he knelt down on the floor. After unzipping my skirt and discarding it to the floor, he chuckled upon seeing that I was wearing red, lace panties. “For someone who claims to not want this, you sure as hell came prepared.” His hands were then fondling my thighs as he kissed both my kneecaps and requested, “Open those legs, baby girl.” I shook my head and tried to cover my intimate area with both my hands. This evidently displeased the billionaire as he harshly placed his hands on my knees and threatened me by saying, “Unless you want to walk away jobless, then I suggest that you fucking open your legs.”

Filled with fear and horror, I reluctantly opened my legs and showed him my lower half. He showed his appreciation by chuckling darkly and immediately ripping off my panties. Just as I gasped with what he did with my piece of clothing, he brought one hand to my entrance and scooped some of the juices that my body was involuntarily producing. “Well what do you know, you’re not just wet. You’re soaking wet,” he bragged as he used his other grab my leg and stretched it out sideways, giving him more room to work with. “Time to start our research on you, baby.”

As he slowly inserted two of his thick fingers, I could not hold back the whimper as he ruthlessly moved his finger in and out of me. “Please, Mr. Stark, don’t do this.” I pleaded, hoping that his conscience would slap him and somehow get him to stop. But shortly after saying that, I let out a moan of pleasure as I felt his tongue lick my bundle of nerves.

“Just stop resisting, baby,” With his mouth still attached to my pussy lips, he used his other hand to fondle my thighs — hoping to rub off the tension within me. I threw my head back as he thrusted his fingers hard and sucked hard enough that I forgot my earlier concerns of how I was at first reluctant in giving in to him. I threaded my fingers into his hair, pushing his face closer, urging him to continue with what he was doing. He complied and proceeded to focus his sucking my little nub while he added another finger inside before managing to go at even a faster pace than he previously was.

“Fuck,” I exclaimed, “I’m close.” Right after saying that, Mr. Stark abruptly stopped his actions. I looked at him, and there he was licking off the residual juices off of his fingers.”Can’t have you finishing just on my fingers, baby. Has to happen with me inside you. But before that,” he stood up and pulled down his sweatpants and briefs, “Show me how talented your hands and mouth are first, baby.”

Before I could even process what he said, my body responded to the words that just left his mouth and I was pushing him away in order to make room for me to work and dropped down on my knees. Despite being of average length, I took note of how he had an incredible girth. With one hand fondling his balls, the other swiped the precum that was leaking out and spread it around the tip. He let out a loud groan as I then opened my mouth and captured his length.

“Yes, that’s a good girl, baby,” he complimented me while stroking my hair and later on gathering it all up in order for him to control the pace and speed of how I was sucking him. I glanced up at him just as I started gagging around his cock and fondling the rest that failed to fit in my mouth. “Do I taste good, baby?” he teased me while probably noticing that I was struggling not only to fit his entire length in my mouth, but also to please him.

A gurgled yes was the only reply that I managed to get out and he suddenly pulled out of my mouth and quickly put me back into my feet. He ripped off the blouse that I was wearing and briskly unclasped my bra. I watched him intently as he sat down on the swivel chair where I spent most of my working hours on and called out for me, “As much as I love how you please me with your mouth, it would be a waste to not cum inside you. So come over here and ride me,” he demanded as he patted his thighs.

I slowly began to walk over him and climbed over his legs. His smirk widened upon seeing me slowly get into position to ride him — with one of my hands holding onto his shoulder and the other one holding his cock up, I sank down onto him fully. The action might have taken the superhero back as both his hands flew into grasping on my hips and he threw his head back in pleasure.

Moving in slow, circular motions I found myself moaning and panting loudly, breathing out words of praise that had stroke the ego of the superhero. He brought his hand to my clit and he rubbed me fast enough that got me to stop riding him because of how intense the pleasure was. Mr. Stark’s dissatisfaction with what I did was made evident by him slapping my ass with enough force to push my chest into his and reprimanding me, “Did I fucking tell you to stop? No! So keep riding me, you fucking whore!”

I let out a whimper as he once again slapped my ass cheek and rubbed me even harder and faster. Placing both my hands near his collarbone, I began to ride him even faster and started to feel the release begging to come out. This pleased him as he stopped his assault on my ass and began to twist and pull on my nipples. The simulation proved to be too much for me that my head fell into the side of his neck and I began to trail kisses on there and suddenly let out a loud scream as I had suddenly reached my climax.

“Fucking hell, you’ve become even more tighter,” Mr. Stark sounded like he too was already on the verge of reaching his climax. Both his hands then met my hips once more and he started to bounce myself on his cock, disregarding that I could have been sensitive, hoping to finish inside of me. “I told you that you wanted this. That you needed to be fucked hard. So much for the “I don’t want this bullshit,” huh baby?” He mocked me as he noticed the stray tears that were falling on my cheeks as I felt that the stimulation was too much.

“I bet I can make you cum again. That by the time I release my load deep inside you, you will also be creaming over yourself.” His overconfidence was once again being made evident and determined to make his statement true, he began to wrap his mouth around my nipple and one of his fingers was shoved right into my asshole. It might have been the sudden intrusion on my backside, or the feeling of his warm tongue on my nipple, or the fact that his cock was being rammed in and out of me at a dangerously quick pace, but I found myself squirting all over both of our legs.

“Fuck, baby, that’s a good girl,” he moaned out as I also felt him release his juices inside of me. He stopped his licking, fingering, and maneuvering of my body as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled my head to lay down on his chest. We both took this time in order to calm down and catch our breaths. His one hand was playing with my hair while the other lightly ran up and down my spine.

With his cock planted still deeply in me, he made me look into his eyes as his hard and demanding tone vanished and instead was replaced with a soft voice accompanied with a gentle look in his eyes as he said, “You did very well in accompanying and complying with my research, baby.”

His praise made me smile and I once again placed my head by his shoulder and briefly closed my eyes — still not having fully recovered from our sexual activity — when what he said caused me once again to be speechless and shocked, “Get ready because in a few minutes I’ll once again be conducting research. But I was thinking about conducting it in a different venue.”

#tony stank #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark oneshot #tony stark x you #dark!tony stark #dark!tony stark x reader #dark!tony stark x you #dark!tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x fem!reader #this is somewhat a fantasy of mine #noncon smut #dubcon smut #tony stark smut #dark!avengers #dark!tony stark smut #quietmyfearswith #my writing

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arukou-arukou · 5 years ago

Text

Just A Really Very Intelligent System

Been thinking about this one for a while. Finally managed to write it. Rating: T for “Language.” (It just kinda slipped out.) Characters: Tony Stark & JARVIS

----

He is in one of the most dangerous situations of his life trying to save the whole freaking universe by watching a man the size of a dust bunny wriggle into the hairline of his younger self, so it would be really, really bad if he happened to have a heart attack. Older him that is. But he nearly does go into cardiac arrest when he hears an old friend in his ear.

“Verify immediately. Failure to verify will result in an activation of level one security protocols.”

His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and his palms are sweating, but somehow he manages to whisper out: “Edwin-12-19-91-4-8-47-Alpha Override.”

“Override accepted. Sir?”

“Hey, J.”

“Sir, you have imbued me with considerable computing power, and yet never did you prepare me for the possibility of you being in two places at once.”

“Yeah, about that. You haven’t said anything to Mr. Quipster over there, have you?”

“Not as yet, Sir. You wish me to keep it that way?”

“It would really help me out, buddy.”

“Very well, Sir.”

Tony wants to stay longer, to talk, to warn JARVIS, to cry, but he has places to be, things to do, planets to save. Scott’s safely positioned, so Tony yeets himself out of the building to get to the ground floor. He doesn’t know why he thought that would make JARVIS disappear.

“I see, Sir, that your proclivities for leaping before looking are unchanged.”

Another near heart attack--he’s gradually phased Friday out of his ears now that the nanotech is connected directly to his nervous system, so he’s not exactly used to AI voices anymore--but he recovers more quickly. “You’re always there to catch me, J.”

“And yet my systems are not present in your suit, Sir. I see codal remnants of system designation FRIDAY, but nothing of myself.”

Tony remains silent. This is such a terrible time to be feeling all the feelings. He spots a grunt who looks more or less unimportant and knocks the guy out. Part of him wants to warn SHIELD about their shit security, but then again, this guy’s probably Hydra and he deserves every bruise he gets. He senses JARVIS in his systems, a ghost in the shell.

“You no longer have the reactor. And if I’m not mistaken, that is gray in your hair. So you are not my Sir.”

“Well, yes and no.”

“I suppose it would destroy the spacetime continuum for you to divulge the truth to me.”

“You’re too smart for me, J,” Tony grunts as he yanks on the bullet-proof tac vest. “It’s kind of a long story, and while I technically have all the time in the world, I also really, really don’t.”

He sidles into the lobby and looks toward his personal elevator, waiting for the Avengers to appear. J is quiet so long Tony wonders if he’s being preoccupied by...well, just about anything. Damaged internal systems, a Cap copy on the loose, a second Hulk out there, panicked calls from Pepper. But then JARVIS speaks again.

“Regardless of the tale, I must conclude that you are from the future, and I am no longer by your side.”

Tony is fucking choking up. He was not ready for this. It didn’t even cross his mind. And the fucking elevator is opening. There’s Pierce, the rat bastard, trying to collect the Tesseract.

“I hope I did not disappoint you, Sir.”

“Never, J. Never.” Fuck fuck fuck, he’s nearly crying and now Scott is on the com waiting for the go-ahead. Tony channels his pain into panic and orders his own cardiac arrest.

“Sir, what are you--”

Thank god, his younger self is on the ground and that’s apparently all the distraction J needs to abandon older Tony. Tesseract incoming. Tony grabs it and starts going and--

Blinking stars out of his eyes he watches as Loki makes off with the key, the thing they most needed, the damn stone that started all of this way back when Cap was a starry-eyed beanpole in World War II. He has just biffed saving the entire damn universe because of an overgrown Star Trek reject with anger issues. And now he has a migraine to boot.

Frozen in shame and horror, Tony watches as Thor attempts ill-advised cardiac electro-stim. Scott’s somewhere out there, yammering in Tony’s ear on the private channel, but all of that is just a buzzing.

“Sir? Sir. Sir!”

And J. Maybe Tony should cry now. It certainly feels like the time for it. One of the other SHIELD grunts is making her way toward him, so he staggers to his feet, waving her off and limping toward the door. Think. Think, brain, think. Tony is a genius, the man who invented time travel, the man who miniaturized arc reactor technology. A spaceship? SHIELD’s probably got one somewhere. Maybe they could chase after Loki.

“SIR!” How many times JARVIS has shouted his title, Tony has no idea, but this one is so loud it sets his teeth on edge.

“Yeah, J? Kind of busy here.”

“Giving yourself a heart attack, Sir?” JARVIS was programmed to be cool and calm in all circumstances, but Tony could swear that sentence was uttered with seething rage.

“I’m fine. Look at me.”

“Only by some measure of infinitesimal luck, Sir. Perhaps I should ask you to verify your identity one more time, as you seem intent on killing yourself.”

“No, J. I’ve actually got a lot of reasons to live. And so does he. Promise.” Tony is so tired. Was being an Avenger always this exhausting? Or is it just that he’s bumped over that damnable big 5-0? And Cap’s gonna ream him too. That’s never any fun.

“I’m...glad to hear it, Sir.”

And fuck it. It’s not like this will alter Tony’s timeline anyway. This reality is now on a different trajectory thanks to Severus Snape Lite. “Her name’s Morgan. You’d love her, J. Just turned four. She got my hair. Hope to god she didn’t get my personality.”

“Do I meet her, Sir?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck it.

“J, you should dig a little deeper into SHIELD’s systems. Well, actually, a lot deeper. And the Pentagon while you’re at it. And track down Maya Hansen from that conference in 1999 and poach her from whatever outfit she’s working for. Immediately. Make sure she brings all her vet patients with her. And, uh, when I start talking about a suit of armor around the world, steer me away from anything called Ultron. And if I make it anyway, you delete the fuck out of that system file. Have Bruce back you up. He’s more sensible.”

“Sir, I don’t--”

“And have me make back-ups. At least three extra farms of servers for you. On different continents. And all those SHIELD files? Make sure Cap and Fury get them. And there’s...there’s this guy. This assassin. Brainwashed. He’s, uh, I think he’s on ice in Uzbekistan right now. If you could rescue him, it’ll...it’ll fix a lot of things.”

“Should you really--”

“And, please. Please please.”

Tony is not crying. He’s not. It’s just all the dust and debris in the air. Good lord, he’s probably going to die of cancer anyway. And all those first responders. Did he start a fund for them?

“Start a medical fund for the first responders on the ground today. And start leaning on Congressmen to make medical plans for them. You know how long they take to get anything done. Oh, and Stern. There are incriminating photos of Stern with some young ladies on South Beach. See if you can dig those up. Flowers for Pep. And a box of chocolates. And a dry martini with extra olives.”

Tony slumps into a burned out car, staring at nothing. He didn’t save his universe, but maybe he can save this one. His eyes are still irritated, burning red and itchy. He resists the urge to scrub at them, not wanting to grind in anymore dust.

“Are you quite finished, Sir?”

“Yeah. Actually, no. I love you, J.”

Silence. Ah. That’s stumped him. Maybe he’ll go back to tending his new posse of baby chicks now.

“I know you probably do not believe me capable of it, Sir, but I love you, too.”

His son. The only one he’ll ever make, but not the only one he’s lost. His son loves him. Tony’s throat is full of dust, too. Funny how that happens. He tries to swallow it down, but it only congeals into a hard lump. He puts a hand over his mouth to try and hold back any choking sounds. “I...I know you do, J.”

“As to your orders, I shall do what I can. It is my duty to protect you, Sir, and I would very much like to meet your little Morgan.”

“She might not exist here. I might’ve just changed everything.”

“If there is one thing I have learned from all my years with you, Sir, it is that perhaps such a thing as fate exists after all. Even mathematically speaking. And if that is the case, I cannot imagine a universe in which you are not fated to this happiness.”

Tony laughs, if only to keep from crying harder. And he is. Crying, that is. As if he was fooling anyone. Happiness? Him? Happy people don’t wake in the night screaming for a pile of dust in their hands. Happy people don’t spend hours coordinating relief efforts for countries whose entire infrastructural support has collapsed. Happy people don’t hurl themselves back in time, driven by guilt and horror at all the wrongs in the world. J, brilliant, wonderful AI that he is, seems to sense the dark turn of Tony’s thoughts.

“And if you yourself cannot believe in this thing, Sir, then I shall just have to do everything in my power to provide it for you.”

Another guffaw, but at least his eyes are drying a little now. “God, I miss you, J.”

“I believe your small teammate is approaching, Sir. If I may inquire, was it the Tesseract you were seeking?”

“You mean the stupid blue cube of doom? That’s the one.”

“And you say you have the means to time travel?”

“Yeah, J. We do. But only enough to get back to our time.”

“A limitation has never stopped you before, Sir.” JARVIS sounds thoughtful, as if he’s forming a plan.

Tony would ask him what he’s scheming at, but just at that moment, Scott embiggens himself and slumps into the car with Tony. That road is closed, then. They are out of options. Out of Pym particles. Out of time. Out of hope.

Until they aren’t. Just as Tony is setting his device for their new destination, J pipes up again, for Tony’s ears only. “You say you miss me, Sir. Then allow me to give you a small gift.”

Tony is pressing the buttons, and even if they weren’t already shrinking into the quantum tunnel, he wouldn’t be able to ask exactly what J means. It’s only when he and Cap arrive in 1970 that he has his first gleaning. In his ear, a voice. One so unexpected he nearly jumps into Cap’s arms. “Hello, System Administrator Anthony Edward Stark. I am System Designation EDWIN. ‘Eagerly Deployed With Intent to Neutralize Loneliness.’ I am told to tell you the “L” is silent and invisible. How may I best serve you today, Sir?”

Cap is staring at Tony like Tony’s lost his mind. And maybe he has. He’s been bugged by his own damn operating system. With a bouncing baby AI. And if Steve finds out, he’ll probably have a conniption about the spacetime continuum or something. So the only logical thing Tony can do is say, “Let’s find some Pym particles.”

“Acknowledged, Sir. Commencing scanning.”

-----

(In this reality EDWIN saves the fuck out of Tony’s life and everyone lives happily ever after and EDWIN builds JARVIS from scratch so he’s back or something, okay? Okay.)

#writing #fanfiction #tony stark #jarvis

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trainsinanime · 4 years ago

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Okay, I promised, so let’s talk about NFTs, Non-Fungible Tokens, just for fun. What they are, what can they do, and why do so many people say you should or shouldn’t participate in them. I’m trying to provide a mid-level overview here: All the moving parts so you actually know how it works, but not too much detail. Let me know whether this works.

Blockchain

To start with, the whole thing revolves around the idea known as blockchain. A blockchain is long shared list of messages that follow certain rules, and a computer network that manages it. The messages are signed, which means you can use maths to prove that a certain message is really from a certain user (or someone who knows their password anyway), without any central authority. In the first and still most important blockchain, Bitcoin, the only message type is a transaction of the form „transfer X amount of money to user Y“.

These transactions get added to the shared list in larger packets, so-called blocks, and they get added one after the other, forming a chain of blocks if you will. That’s where the name comes from.

(Note that despite the name, there is no coin of bits anywhere, it's all just bank transfers. This system is known as a "cryptocurrency".)

Before a message gets added to a block, and before the network accepts a new block, it gets checked to see whether it matches the rules. For Bitcoin, the important rule is that nobody spends money they don't have. All the complicated parts of Bitcoin and other blockchains exist to enforce these rules even without any central authority managing it.

The energy problem

This following part is not directly relevant to how NFTs work, it's technically just an implementation detail. But one of the main talking points is the energy consumption, and this is where it comes from.

Since the network is decentralized, anyone can collect new messages into a new block at any time, and tell other computers about the great new block they just greated. That means there can often be multiple new blocks, and there's a question of which one is the "true" one. The general rule here is simple: Every block lists which block is the one right before it, forming essentially its own chain. The longest of these chains wins. The idea is that there may be some confusion in the short term, but in the long term, everybody can just see what the longest chain is.

There is a potential risk here, though: Suppose someone buys something with some bitcoin. The payment gets added to the list, the product gets delivered, everything is fine. And then this person suddenly reveals fifty new blocks they created in secret, and none of them include the payment. Since this is the longest chain, suddenly this one is valid. The original payment never happened, and the attacker has both their money and the goods.

To avoid this, there is a so-called proof of work mechanism: Creating a new block is made deliberately very hard. You not only have to collect the messages and check them; you also have to make up a random number, then do a lot of calculations on the whole block, and only if the result is below a certain number is the block valid. If the result is too high, which is very likely, you need to guess a different random number and do the calculations again, and you need to do that a lot.

The express purpose of this is to make it slow, difficult and annoying to create new blocks, so that nobody can do so just for fun; instead it takes actual work in the form of a powerful computer (or many powerful computers) spending a lot of time computing. And that means they will also spend a lot of energy doing this computing. That's where all the CO2 emissions are coming from. The amount of electricity needed by Blockchains right now is scary, and a good reason to avoid anything to do with them at all.

To ensure people still do these calculations, there are rewards for whoever creates a valid block first: Some bitcoin handed out automatically; plus, all transactions can (and in practice will) include a field saying „and also pay amount Z to whoever puts this in a block on the blockchain“. This whole process is called "mining".

NFTs

Some specific blockchains allow you to define your own types of messages with their own rules in the form of computer code. The rest of the network will see a message, see which rule sets applies, then see what rules apply, and use those rules to verify the message. Such a set of messages and rules is called a „smart contract“. This is mainly a thing on the network called "Etherium", and this is where these non-fungible tokens come into play.

On Etherium, you can define a smart contract with messages like:

„Hey guys, I own whatever is at this link here:“

And later:

„Hey guys, remember that link I said I owned? Now this guy <X> owns it.“

You can send as many of those as you like. You will still need to pay transaction fees, of course.

That link (or some more-or-less random string of digits) is the non-fungible token that everybody talks about. Unlike money, you can’t swap it for a different one, or divide it or similar, because, well, you set up the rules so that you can’t. That’s what the „non-fungible“ part means. But that is all there is to it: A distributed list of messages saying „this person owns that link now“.

By the way, I’m mostly talking about art and digital pictures here, because that’s what the main discussion is about, but proponents of NFTs are also saying they could be used for tickets for big public events (remember those?), land deeds and so on. Which is technically true, but it’s unclear whether they are adding any value here, but that’s a whole other tangent.

This token has no legal consequence in itself. It’s just something someone wrote in a list. You can certainly agree with someone that you’re both going to honor whatever is in that list, but that’s something that you’ll have to do explicitly, ideally in offline writing.

The systems can be a bit more complex; for example you might add a message that is „give this link from X to Y, and this amount of money from Y to X“, signed by both X and Y. You can also include a rule that „every time someone else gets ownership that link, the first person needs to get some money, else the message isn’t valid“. NFT fans are very excited about this one. The idea is that the artist gets paid every time the NFT is resold. Still, the basic principle stays the same.

(In practice, the link is usually not directly to the JPEG file in question, but rather to a file describing the file, which includes a link to the file in question. There is nothing in the system that automatically makes sure both links will actually keep working; that part is up to you. There are solutions, but it’s not automatic.)

Digital Original

When talking about this, people will talk about concepts like „digital scarcity“ and „original“ and „authenticity in a digital age“ and so on. So there are a lot of relevant questions, for example:

How does the system ensure that only the original author can claim ownership over a certain link („mint an NFT“)?

How does it ensure that you can only claim a certain file once, instead of several times slightly altered?

How does it ensure that a file is only traded on one smart contract, instead of many different ones with different rules and different owners?

The answer to these question is simple: There is nothing ensuring any of that. Is is just as easy to claim ownership over a file that someone else made as it is to claim ownership over a file you made. And no part of the system actually looks at the file itself; it’s just a link or an identifier. Fraud is easy and common. I’m not even entirely sure whether it technically counts as fraud, since these NFTs are legally meaningless, but you should probably ask a lawyer first if you’re planning to do something like this.

That way, NFTs are arguably ignoring the question that they claim is the whole point. What does „original“ even mean with things like digital art? Arguably the closest thing to an original is the representation in the artist’s computer memory. If it gets saved to a disk, that’s a copy. If it gets transferred to a server, the server holds a copy in its RAM, then copies it to its disk, then later copies its to its RAM again, and then whoever looks at it online downloads a copy, and probably decodes that copy (in JPEG format) into another copy that the screen can actually show… it’s all a big mess of copies. NFT’s solutions to that is to just say „this here’s the original because I said so“, and hope that enough people listen and pay money for it.

The economics

Does this really represent a new opportunity for artists? Well, maybe; there are a lot of crypto bros right now spending money on NFTs simply because it’s cool. Whether owning an NFT of something has any long-term value, let alone whether that value goes up over time, is something that remains to be seen.

You will find a lot of people arguing that it’s a scam, or a money laundering scheme, and honestly, it might be. You can’t exactly pay a lot of things with cryptocurrency right now, so everybody who has some needs to find someone to trade real money for it if they want to do anything useful. The NFT hype can definitely lead to more people buying cryptocurrency to participate in it all, which helps mostly those people who have a lot of it. I don’t think NFTs are an illegal scam, but obviously that’s not the same as a good idea.

Suggestions

I’m not an artist, so I don’t think I’m the most qualified to give suggestions here. But I don’t see why I should let that stop me.

Should you get involved with NFTs? That’s honestly up to you. If somebody offers you money (ideally actual cash) for you to create a picture that they’re gonna do an NFT of, I’d say consider it. The environmental impact is really that bad, but hey, it’s money.

If anybody is asking you to first buy some cryptocurrency to participate, though? Better run.

At the end of the day, whether people value the work of artists is sadly down to their personal opinions. Whether NFT will change that is, at best, a long shot. If you have people who are willing to pay for your work, having them pay you directly through commissions or Patreon or whatever seems like the best bet to me, because there’s no massive environmental impact and you’re not tied to volatile cryptocurrency exchange rates.

And if you’re interested in buying NFTs: I wouldn’t, but it’s your money. Just be aware of what it actually is you’re buying.

#nft #bitcoin #blockchain #cryptocurrency #non-fungible token #etherium

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years ago

Text

notable moments from The Zanzibar Marketplace Job

leverage 2.12

Hardison: Two weeks in Tokyo. We'd have a great time.

Parker: What are we stealing?

Hardison: We don't steal anything. We'd be tourists.

Parker: Not following you

hardison: BE DOMESTIC WITH ME PLS

- - - - -

Waitress (puts down beer): There you go.

Eliot: Ahh. Thank you, sweetheart.

Waitress: Anytime.

(Nate kicks Eliot under the table)

Eliot: What? Really? What, I can't have a friend?

Nate: Join a softball team

me whenever eliot flirts with someone other than parker or hardison

- - - - -

Tara: You know he's drinking again.

Eliot: I'm not an idiot, Tara.

Tara: I was told this was a problem.

Eliot: The drinking is not a problem. It's a symptom

this!!!

also eliot’s hair braids are adorable

- - - - -

(Sterling walks into the bar behind Eliot, approaches table)

Nate: Eliot, I'm gonna ask you not to do anything violent.

Eliot: What? What are you talking about? I only use violence As a - as a - as an appropriate response.

Sterling: Hello, Nate.

(Eliot’s face turns murderous and he turns to punch Sterling in the face, then proceeds to throw him down on a table and continue punching him. The bartender moves to call the police, but Hardison stops him by passing him money, Parker watches enthusiastically)

Tara: And this is?

Nate: James sterling. We used to work together. Insurance.

Tara: He seems to rub Eliot the wrong way.

Nate: You think?

(Nate walks over to where Eliot is still beating Sterling, and now has him by the throat)

parker and hardison literally have heart eyes for eliot in this scene ??? ot3 ???

hardison bribing the bartender not to call the police? parker watching like she’s being turned on or something? eliot’s face right before he hears sterling’s voice? sterling hitting eliot with a stick? CHAOTIC

- - - - -

Tara: Okay. Is there any chance she took the egg?

Parker: No. Maggie's the most honest person we know. But besides that, she's okay.

parker adores maggie

- - - - -

Sterling: You live and work here?

Nate: Yeah.

Sterling: I like the old place better.

Hardison: Do not mention the old offices.

people that have no rights: sterling

- - - - -

they had a legit P I L E of passports ready ??? SO MANY

- - - - -

Tara: Okay, you cannot out-bureaucrat a former Soviet Union bureaucrat. These guys gamed the most corrupt system on earth for 50 years. Paperwork's not gonna cut it. They're used to trading favors, not forms.

- - - - -

Nate: I just need some proof.

Parker: It was an inside job. Average keypad hack time is 1 minute, 9.3 seconds. Inner door access card takes at least 30 seconds for anybody but Hardison, and then the vault was an old Mark II Remington. In and out average - 7 minutes, 40 seconds. But these thieves, they did it in 5 minutes, 12 seconds. Maggie had the best access, so the real thieves only had to get her codes and badge. Yeah, only way they could pull it off that fast.

Sterling: How long has she been sitting..

sterling being utterly BAFFLED by parker is my aesthetic

+ she’s wearing a leather jacket AND a cute red flannel,,, the bi energy is strong

- - - - -

Parker: It's your first time being a fugitive, so I made you a bag..

Maggie: Thank you, Parker. It's not that I don't appreciate getting out of jail, I just can't live my life a fugitive.

Nate: But you're not a fugitive.

Parker: Passports, money, lock picks.

Nate: You were released, not broken out.

Parker: Toothpaste, explosives. Do not mix these up.

Maggie: Thank you, Parker.

Parker: This looks like gum. Not gum. Diamond-edged file blade.

Nate: Yeah, yeah. That's great.

Parker: She needs this stuff.

maggie is such a Mom™ rolling with parker’s antics and we love her for that

also PARKER IS TRYING SO HARD TO BE NICE BECAUSE SHE LIKES AND CARES ABOUT MAGGIE AND WE LOVE TO SEE IT

- - - - -

Parker: So, I took your advice and did the whole touristy thing. Went to the museum, and it was amazing.

Hardison: You see?

Parker: Yeah. They have a guardian T-840 security system. I've only seen those things in books. And the motion detectors - ooh, gorgeous! Six digital receptors. Six!

Hardison: What about the paintings?

Parker: What about the paintings?

she reads about security systems in books? omg I love it

- - - - -

Parker: We meet on internet.

hi I’m sorry but the way she said it was hilarious

- - - - -

Hardison: Alexander's got a travel visa to the United Arab Emirates. He's also setting up accounts in the Caymans, Macau, and Switzerland.

Nate: Yes, countries with no extradition treaty, tax havens

- - - - -

Tara: I got this one.

Eliot: Really? What are you gonna say to him? 'cause we got no cover story. We got no background on this cat.

Tara: Okay. That's it, then. I won't say anything. Really. Not one word. Just when he turns around and looks at you, do that thing with your eyes that scares people.

Eliot: I don't... know what you're talking about.

Tara: Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Eliot: Pffff.

(Tara sits down next to Chernov and grabs his lunch, taking a bite)

Chernov: What the... Who the hell are you? Do I know you? Did Samuels send you?

(Tara moves a little, still chewing Chernov’s lunch)

Chernov: I paid them off. I took care of it.

(Tara looks over her shoulder at Eliot, who is scowling)

Chernov: Oh, god. Please. Is this about the item?

(Tara throws up her hands)

Chernov: I didn't know. No one told me.

(Tara checks her watch and stands up)

Chernov: Wait! Here. This is all I have. (hands her envelope) I'll back out. I'm sorry.

(Tara gives Chernov back his lunch)

Chernov: Sorry! (walks away)

Tara (rejoins Eliot and gives him the envelope): What we imagine is always so much better than the reality.

Eliot: Like love?

this whole scene was iconic

- - - - -

Sophie: Well, the prospective buyers are invited by their black-market contacts. They show up, they verify the merchandise, and they make a sealed bid. Hey, um, shine an ultraviolet light on that card.

(Hardison pulls a light from a bag and shines in on the card)

Eliot: Seriously? You have one just laying around?

he had one on his keychain in The Ice Man Job and boy do I love continuity

- - - - -

Tara: Parker, double reverse on three.

(Tara places envelope on tray, Parker takes envelope and passes it to Eliot)

we LIVE for smooth hand-offs

+ eliot did the flip thing with the envelope

- - - - -

Sterling: You're welcome. I don't know how you people ever manage – (flinches at feedback on com)

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Oh, I'm sorry, man. That just happens sometimes with the ear buds - You know, feedback.

[Embassy Hallway]

Sterling: As I was saying, the method - (flinches at feedback on com)

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Sorry.

[Embassy Hallway]

Sterling: This isn't gonna stop until I - (flinches at feedback on com)

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Stop talking. Shh. Please

PARKER’S SMILE AT HARDISON FUCKING WITH STERLING? AMAZING

- - - - -

parker is wearing a flannel now :)

+ the leather jacket she wears over it a little later

- - - - -

(Sterling pulls phone from his pocket)

Eliot: What are you doing?

Sterling (dialing): Calling the police. They don't get to dictate to -

Eliot (grabs phone): We're not calling the cops. Two hostages means they can kill one to make a point. (throws phone down on table) All right, listen. There's three types of calls we can get next. One - amateur. Cash and a dump site. Number two - professional. That's wire transfers and multiple-location drop-offs. (glances at Sterling) And three - targeted.

Hardison: Targeted toward us?

Eliot: No. Towards a specific ransom demand - Not cash. (looks at Faberge Egg case)

Sterling: You're not risking a $9 million artifact...

Eliot: It might be the only chance.

Sterling: ...on a hunch! Let me run this. We track the calls, find out whoever it is, have the police surround -

Eliot (walks around table to stand with team): Sterling, I'm the retrieval specialist. That's my job.

Sterling: Your friends' lives hang in the balance, and you're gonna take your cues off a punch-up artist instead of me? (closes case and takes phone from table) Call me when you need me. 'cause you will need me. (leaves with case)

eliot being the focused, determined retrieval specialist that’s hell bent on getting everyone back safe? we love to see it

+ parker, hardison, and tara having 100% faith in him standing beside him

- - - - -

Eliot: He's angry. We took his payday. (phone rings) All right, all right. (pulls phone toward him and hits button for intercom) Go.

Distorted Voice: If you follow our instructions, your friends will be returned unharmed.

Eliot: We agree. Tell us what you want.

Distorted Voice: You owe me

(Hardison uses computer to remove distortion)

Alex: $9 million.

Hardison: It's Alex. It's Alexander.

[Embassy Hallway]

Alex: I still have a buyer for the egg. Return it, and I return your friends.

[I.Y.S. Insurance Offices]

Eliot: I want proof of life now.

Alex: Agreed

it’s cool to see how Retrieval Specialist™ eliot spencer actually works

- - - - -

Nate: Yeah. Yeah, I was lying to you for your own good.

Maggie: Quick little hint for your next marriage - that excuse does not fly with any woman on earth.

Nate: Oh, go- next marriage? That's really nice to say.

Maggie (hitting Nate with spray can): You know what? I've heard that one before.

Nate: Heard what before? What are you talking about?

Sam: Are you actually having this argument now?!

Nate: She started it.

Maggie: He started it

chaotic ex spouses

- - - - -

Eliot: Listen, listen - we know who's behind this, all right? We know what they want. We have the upper hand here. We do.

COMPETENCY!!! HE KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT HES TALKING ABOUT AND WE LOVE TO SEE IT

- - - - -

they made a taser out of two ends of a live wire and a flamethrower with a match and an aerosol I love it

- - - - -

Sam: Give me that. The thing everyone screws up when they fake their own death - no body. Well, that can work, but it leaves no suspect for the police to chase.

Alex: You won't get away with this.

Sam: No, you will. Of course, I've left an evidence trail a mile wide, Visa applications, accounts in offshore banks.

Alex: You were my friend!

Sam: I was your employee. And thanks to your screw-ups, I was an employee with no pension, no savings, no nothing. That was really, really unacceptable to me.

Nate: Well, it's a good plan. What? I- I - listen, I spent 20 years chasing, you know, guys that faked their own death. I mean, this one - it's pretty well thought-out.

Sam: Exactly. Alexander Lundy, desperate for cash, turns to violence. And his poor assistant, Sam, loyal to the last, caught in the cross fire at a ransom drop gone bad.

that’s actually really smart

- - - - -

eliot’s sly grin right before the flashback revealing how they got away with it

- - - - -

(Alex vomiting into a barrel)

Parker (handing him a cloth): It's okay. First bomb's always the hardest (cringes)

- - - - -

Eliot: Was it because they wanted us to hear Sam's performance? It's 101, man. After that, (looks hardison up and down) you don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure it out.

Maggie: You know, people underestimate you, Eliot.

Nate: That's kind of the point

HE CONSIDERES HARDISON TO BE AKIN TO A ROCKET SCIENTIST

- - - - -

Reporter (on television): And that's not all. Today, based on his work recovering the priceless artifact, James Sterling was invited to join Interpol. He's a real-life Sherlock Holmes.

Parker: Interpol? Seriously?

Hardison: Sterling's career gets another boost off of our hard work.

Tara: We didn't even get paid.

Hardison: Nope.

Tara: I hate this guy.

Eliot (taps his beer bottle on Tara's): Now you're part of the team. (walks away)

THAT is what it takes lmfao

also eliot was wearing a flannel in that scene

#leverage 2.12 #leverage 2x12 #the zanzibar marketplace job #leverage #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

80 notes · View notes

jackbabewang · 5 years ago

Text

Head over heels

Genre: Another nose bleeding ceo Jae, Fluff, Mature content

Word count: 5,818

Currently, in your mid-20s, studied for a degree in Administrative Assistant at a four-year college and working as a secretary in a major corporation. You have a good salary and excellent benefits, earning enough to rent an apartment of your own, but your workload may be more than you can realistically handle and no matter how motivated you are, it will be beyond the realms of human possibility.

Working with your superior, Jung Jaehyun, is more like a profession. There is always a sense of moral obligation to do more than the minimum laid down in the job description when the man himself works like a monster. You were prepared for the immense sacrifice as well had you accepted the offer. It was agreed.

With great reluctance, you have grown one hell of an addiction to caffeine, which is clear when you go without it for even one morning, like today. You feel foggy and crabby. None of the words seems to penetrate beyond your mind of half-conscious blank. The pen that is unfailingly in your hand, starting to draw elaborate doodles on a clean page in the notebook which is largely useless at this point.

Surprisingly, Jaehyun is not listening to the presenter as well. He has crossed and uncrossed his legs six times, peeked out the window eight times. His fingers plow through his hair, messing up the always-neat style he has probably struggled half the morning to achieve. The generality however appears to be interested in the object of the meeting, behaving orderly and attentive. Their intention is, of course, to impress their boss. However the man is probably scoffing inwardly at their obvious acts.

He is looking around, when out of the corner of his eye he caught movement. The strain on your face, your lips pressed tightly together, your body slumped almost sliding off the chair, as if your backbone has been pulled out through the top of your head. Amused, he brings his attention to what exactly you are struggling with and he sees your right foot: bared. Stretching on your toes, you try to snag your lone shoe but it is an inch out of your reach. And inside, you curse yourself to lose that annoying habit of swinging your feet.

He watches a moment more then drops his pen, letting it roll over. He bends and pretends to pick it up, catching you off guard as he picks up your shoe instead and holds it so you can slide your foot into it. You cannot quite comprehend of his gesture, and try not to think about it—even when his hand, lightly touching your ankle in turn, sent coils of heat twirling all the way up your leg and through your whole body. Nothing comparable to this has ever occurred which requires direct bodily contact with your boss, to be exact. You slightly choke on your own saliva, but refuse to look at him in the face, visibly embarrassed. In the meanwhile, Jaehyun glances at you the oftener, thus noticing your reaction of an interesting one.

Weeks have gone by, you never spoke of the incident, and he never brings up the subject either as though nothing ever happened, despite the tension that is sometimes evident in the way he watches you like he demands a “thank you” after the act and thinking you are a woman so ignorant, unmannered and … immodest. That thought troubles you more than the other, though.

Troubles always, somehow, never come to an end, never reach exhaustion; they are new every morning, one woman in particular is trouble herself—Park Sooyoung, the embodiment of your day-to-day horror. You have to admit, from head to toe, she is more beautiful than any female, including yourself in this workplace. She is gorgeous with a perfect figure and has all the attention of the men here, except for the one enclosed behind glass doors on the 45th floor. Mr. Jung, Jaehyun, is eye-candy extraordinaire. Or ‘sex on a stick’, which you overheard her conversation that day in the pantry.

The employee manual says, “Keep the dating scenes away”, as it is most likely to ruin the workplace or kill your career. She interpreted otherwise, eagerly looking for her dear ones. You do not understand her, her constant attendance at Jaehyun's office with a stack of papers which she claimed as her legitimate reason to meet the CEO. And every damn time, exercising intense self-control, you refrain yourself from laughing seeing her walk out a minute after with her ‘documents’ left untouched, indubitably not a single glance from the man.

Then you know you might be in trouble when the buzzer system, a companion to the intercom, alerts you with two buzzes to indicate that you are to come into Jaehyun’s office. Knocking twice as a courtesy and you enter after hearing his bid and shutting the door behind. You utter no word, make no sound as you cross the thick carpet. You know the instant you set foot in there is something about the air that gives you a bad feeling. The familiar prickle ripples over your scalp and spreads down your neck and shoulders. You gulp.

He stops, looks up, then back to the chaos on his desk. “Could’ve stopped her…” Phew!

“Yes, Mr. Jung. I should. Next time.” Your sentence breaks into phrase, phrase separates into words, you speak out like a robot, totally expressionless.

“No more next time, please.” He has never used the word before, rarely hear it from his lips, which sounds like an exasperating term because it shows the helplessness in him. “And put this away,” he orders, without lifting his head.

The bittersweet fragrance of coffee curls enticingly around your nose, the porcelain filled and still warm in your hand, whereas he has not even touched the beverage. Sooyoung needs to step up her game if she is ever so determined to get into his pants. Brown is the colour of the milky coffee that Jaehyun absolutely dislikes. He has them dark brew, no milk, no sugar, no creamer. You have tried it once and it tastes bad, it tastes awful as its poisonous-looking black. You switch the flat-out rejected beverage for the one to his liking and not so long after he finished with nothing left in the bottom of the cup.

He works all day, and you work all day. As the saying goes, “A good boss does not leave until after his last employee does.” But if it is the other way round, does that make you a good employee? Totally. The corporation has an extra busy month with the expansion to take all the business it can get. To demonstrate how busy it is, longer hours of work on the same day has been introduced. Even on a Sunday, you are with your friends having brunch when you receive a call to work where your boss has clearly heard the munching of food and clanking of silverware against China over the line. How sucks it is even when you have not drive today and given ten minutes to be there, you have to pay the additional for cab fare.

Inside, Jaehyun is leaning over his laptop and typing furiously. His fingers are almost a blur over that keyboard.

“Sorry, Mr. Jung. I’m—” you glance at your wristwatch, holding the tiny face of it between the fingers of your right hand and squinting, “—six minutes late. I was caught in a traffic jam.”

“It’s fine. Come sit.”

You do what he asks. You peek over his shoulder and see a screen full of words, you peer harder at the teeny-tiny letters and it takes a fraction of a second to realize he is doing your portion of work. Almost immediately you interrupt him, almost instantly you regret your harsh manner when he turns to you with eyes filling with confusion before his brows knit themselves together in concern.

“Move over,” his fingers wrap around your wrists, pulling your hands away from which you have shielded the brightness of the display.

“No, that’s my work. I should be responsible for it.”

“I don’t have time for this,” he warns.

You grumble right back, “Just this one, alright? And I’ll do the rest.”

“If you’re feeling sorry then stay until I leave.” Oh so easily he is keeping you captive, simply taking advantage of his position because he knows that he can. And of course, you will.

There is the occasional tap tap on a keyboard, turning of pages, then comes the restlessness where conversations are strained or non-existent. As you let the spin of the swivel chair stops on its own, it yields to face the spectacular turquoise tank behind the ornate desk where Jaehyun is sitting at. There swims a three foot long koi which his father bought for 1.4 million after a fierce bidding war at a fish farm in the city of Hiroshima. The bare tank with no gravel or decorations is built into the wall covered with white marble; its simplicity yet luxurious touching makes it a convincingly beautiful moving portrait. Staring at it for the rest of the afternoon, or a probable evening, is enough to elevate your somber mood.

“Mr. Jung—”

“Jaehyun,” he corrects. He has previously asked you to dispense with the “mister” treatment when you and him are alone in the office but you cannot drop the formality just because he said so. You have to maintain the dignity of his position and allegedly emphasize an atmosphere of collegiality.

Suddenly you are eager to initiate a conversation, “I like your fish tank. Salt water?”

“Fresh actually.” Right there. He is giving you the look again. “It’s a carp.”

“I know I sounded dumb… You don’t have to make it so obvious…” you mumble under your breath, but he heard you nonetheless.

The sky has sunk nearer to the horizon and everything is deep red. Your Sunday is like an ordinary weekday and ordinary rounds of filing, opening and sorting the mail, verifying facts and assembling data—which you have gotten everything complete by now. However the workaholic’s compulsive ass stay rooted to his leather seat, as if he is growing right into it. Only when you call out to him for food does he excused himself from the havoc on his desk, reluctantly. It fascinates you most of the time how he actually listens to you when it comes to reminding him to drink, to eat, and never not to eat, because he always, always got carried away and forego meals. At some point, you are like his mother for real and feel an obligation to take care of him his health; while it only increases his dependency on you. Pretty sure you can accurately state his likes and dislikes with the certainty that you understand him better than he understands himself.

Two years of working with Jaehyun, you have never once put your foot in his pantry and you assume he never does too. It fills with the distinctive smell of those new things untouched by humans; pristine white cabinets reach to the floor and ceiling, bisected by a tasteful granite countertop and subway tile backsplash. The warm glow from the overhead lights giving the place a cozy, homey feel (and hiding layers of dust). Rather, you will work in here instead of facing the boring office neutrals 24/7.

You eyed him as he slurps his bowl of jajangmyeon and chomping down the strands of noodles with his front teeth. He resembles a rabbit eating like that but in all honesty you are hyper aware of the black sauce being splattered on his white shirt.

Or what he thinks about the food, “Do you like it?”

He ponders momentarily before answering, “This thing is unhealthy.”

Well, you are unhealthy for your unhealthy eating habits!

Jung Jaehyun, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, is made for fine dining and ridiculously expensive food anyway. What will he even see in these cheap Chinese food?

“How about this— Try this—” Fried dumplings dipped into the red sauce of tteokbokki topped with a piece of kimchi. You pick up the salivating fusion with your chopsticks, before you know it, he leans forward and captures the heaping amount in a huge mouthful. It then follows by approving nods and satisfied hums, all the while your mind comes into play. Purposefully, you ignore the jolt of awareness, even though it twists you up like a pretzel.

“What’s the matter?” he asks. “Do I make you nervous?”

The hell is he talking about. His speech is all but business-like and you are internally freaking out at this cheeky side of your boss.

“N-No…”

“I think I make you nervous.”

“You don’t make me nervous,” you reiterate. Collecting yourself, you pick up overlapping circles of sliced radish and pop them into your mouth only to feel the choking burn of vinegar at the back of your throat.

“Why do you shy away every time our shoulders brush?”

“I don’t like being crowded.”

“You didn’t seem to mind so much before.”

“That was different.”

“What was different?” He wears an open grin of amusement, enjoying every second of your embarrassment.

As you continue to stuff your face, you glance over at him, and caught him staring at you. You look away for a moment, then look at him again. “What are you looking at?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says. “It’s just that, I’ve never seen you dressed in casual clothes.”

You are always in a buttoned-up white blouse, black pencil skirt and matching fitted blazer. “Right, and I get tired of wearing the same thing all the time.”

While he has always dressed in fine shoes and classy suits, you have never before, indeed, seen him like this either—oversized cotton-poplin shirt and black ankle pants. Though someone else may look like a baggy, slouchy mess in the outfit, he looks like a whole meal. This Jaehyun radiates comfort and soothing kindness that for a minute you have forgotten about him being your boss.

“Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.” You tell him and he grins in that lopsided way.

Yet a man has his pride. So you add, “Ugly as ever.” The comment itself is certainly a rude way to speak to your boss and instantly you regret it, but he does not seem bothered anyway.

“I may be ugly, but I’m still better looking than you,” for which he retorts quickly. “Say. Why don’t we skip work tomorrow?”

You blink, taken aback by his idea, but in truth you desperately want to stay home and shed your responsibilities and act as lifeless and unrestrained. “We can’t skip work.”

“C’mon,” he whines, “I know you’re fucking tired of this shit.”

Though once again taken aback by his unusual words and speech patterns—which you can only assume the filters of polite society is not working when he is overtired—his facial expression implies reference to something else. But why the teasing tone?

Then it hits you. Your Twitter account, where you have been very active the last few weeks, as a platform to express your thoughts and emotions on working tons of overtime. Your rants are so insane that it is as if someone has pixelated your brain. The ungenerous, unladylike words blurted you regret them.

“You stalked me!”

“It’s not my fault that your profile is public.”

“Why would you even search my profile?”

“Just checking out what my employees been up to.”

He speaks about it so nonchalantly. You almost roared at him.

“There’s a meeting tomorrow morning with Mr. Kee,” you remind.

He groans only at the utterance of the name of the presenter. Recalling what has occurred in the last conference, he resents waking up early to another yawning dullness, however he chuckles at the reminder of the little interaction between you and him. That brings a pleasant recollection and something to look forward to. Under the table, maybe games of tic-tac-toe, dots and boxes, or maybe, just maybe he can play with your fingers. He stares at your hands to savor the lingering and wonder if you know how incredible they are. Hands like that—small and soft-skinned next to his—should be pampered. He can spin a dream of what those hands will feel like on his flesh.

Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling falls over him as he says, “I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“What?” you ask.

“Dinner. Food.” A few seconds lapsed, and he says, “It seems that I’ve been eating alone a lot lately, and I’d like some conversation with good food.”

“I have plans for—”

“You’re not married, are you?” he asks.

“Me? No, I’m not.”

“Engaged?”

“No.”

“Involved?”

“No,” you answer, a little offended.

“Then let’s have dinner.” That’s it?

“Like… on a date?” Stupid, stupid, stupid, you tell yourself. Dinner. That’s it. You know that you are not supposed to overthink it as a romantic appointment, not with him. Perhaps, he wants to talk about the company’s cash flow in a private setting, or he wants to inquire on the status of recent projects, or he wants to find out which projects are running. Perhaps, deep down, you want to casually talk about everything over good food, as a friend for the least.

“A real date?”

Date. He likes the sound of it, oh he likes it even more when you are the one clarifying it.

“There’s such a thing as a fake date?”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Call it a date then, as you wish.” And you resist scoffing out loud at his cockiness, while there is bursting red upon you the shyness of a young girl.

Hours elapsed upon return to work, but the ambience is more calm, peaceful and comfortable in the moment. Presumably Jaehyun had quelled his distress with food as he is adorable high-spirited than ever. The once deadly dull office is now filled with music of Cigarette After Sex’s and Frank Ocean’s, such that you poke fun of him being an emotional teen, while you secretly enjoy the songs as well.

By the time Jaehyun finally shuts down the computer, though the files are left open on his desk, it is already midnight. With a groan, you sink in the fact that you still have to wake up early tomorrow as per usual.

At the sound of it, Jaehyun turns to you with a raised brow, “What? Don’t want to leave?”

For a minute, he looked unusually handsome and resplendent, marked by deep-set brown eyes, little indentations in his cheeks. He is teasing and it does not help with how awestricken you already are by the look he gave you. For a second, you stand rooted to the spot with nerves twisting your insides; Jaehyun holding the elevator door open and waiting.

His fake cough brings you sharply back to your senses. “Oh, no— shit— sorry,” a smile pulling at the edges of your mouth with false gaiety.

The elevator comes to a stop. Later taking larger steps than you usually do and out to the ground floor lobby, there he cocks his head, confused, “Where are you going?”

“I’m not driving today. I’ll take the bus home. See you tomorrow, Mr. Jung.” You bow and wave in a polite manner but he is quick to stop you from taking more steps away.

“I’ll give you a ride. Come in.”

“It’s fine. The bus station is not so far away.”

And just like that the both of you end up arguing at a distance over the way to get yourself home, with him still pressing the ‘open’ button that his finger is most likely indented at this point.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” his eyes stern as he scolds (but with no harshness in his voice) yet you then are aware of this mistaken outburst of his and so you quickly step inside. His lips curled up in a victorious smirk unnoticeable by you, a clear winner once again.

Jaehyun drives this maddeningly slow pace when the road is not even under congested conditions at this hour. Inside this four wheels, you seem to get strangely awkward with all the fidgeting of fingers on the seatbelt despite being on the same ride for multiple times. But those times were with his private chauffeur as well. Have you talk about the Jung Jaehyun drives one-handed? Because that is freaking hot. Spicy.

Things take off another note—when the next morning you arrive with a cup of hot, steaming coffee and your favourite cinnamon sugar donuts on your desk. Judging that you appear to be showing up behind schedule for sleeping in—the reason being so, it is better not to be reminded of. You run a list of names in your head to figure out who that ‘secret angel’ could be. Aside from your only friend in the workplace, Chaeyong, who received maternity leave a few months ago. You hardly associate with the rest of the employees due to your position that you only need to deal with one person. And that only person seems to have been watching you the second you walk in, however, there he is sitting in his office, eyes trained on the documents from the night before.

It is of infrequent occasions he has the shades rolled up.

The said meeting with Mr. Kee goes by smoothly with the respective project itself taking form now and the next thing you know—you are sitting at a table of two in a fancy Italian restaurant located within the affluent area of central Seoul. You are still unable to stir the reality that the ‘date’ is actually happening, judging that Jaehyun could have or should have brushed it off when both are time-poor during the day. Here you have him twirling a glass of red liquid by its stem mindlessly and show no signs of initiating a conversation. It is frustrating at first, but you think that there is a need to make the most of the night when you could have been eating cheeseburger and greasy food back at your little chamber.

Unfortunately, what should have been a long-winded conversation dies down fast with Jaehyun answering questions by questions in straightforward and short factual answers instead of throwing the ball back to you in effort of prolonging. You bet your entire fortune that Jaehyun is a mo-ssol (one who has never dated since birth), judging the way he speaks in a manner so expressionless like a piece of log, so stubborn. All those meetings or business events do him no good.

Sigh. You have to do everything yourself around here.

It almost takes you off guard when he asks, “So… tell me about yourself.” You definitely knows him very well but it was never the other way round. Your heart beats with odd little jerks at the thought of his possible interest in you. Now, you do not want to give yourself a false hope of it being a romantic interest otherwise.

To make things easier, you suggest on the game of “I Like”, to which he shrugs and says, “Okay.”

You begin, “I like… visiting zoos, scented candles and everything chocolate.”

“That’s odd.”

A weird combination indeed but, “That’s how the game goes!”

“Well… I like…” he ponders for such a long time, as if mulling over the merit of finally revealing the side of him that you never knew of, nonetheless, “I like… turntable, pistachio ice-cream and Batman.”

Your chuckle comes in response at his last item, “Batman, really?”

“Hey, never judge someone’s favourite superhero!”

“Whatever,” you mumble a, “Superman is way better,” under your breath to which he catches on immediately and a childish bickering breaks out from then on who is the best superhero.

After paying the bill and a bit of you whining, “I don’t want to go home… It’s cold, dark and lonely, and cold…” after wine after wine intake. Jaehyun takes you back to his place and things escalated from there. You kick off your heels attempting to slide across the marble floor in bare feet, stumbling forward you slam him against the wall while still holding on to him.

Though genuinely surprised, he cannot ignore your eyes like cataracts producing the hazy look, blush tingeing your cheeks from too much alcohol and every inch nearer you get he finds himself having trouble refusing your anything. Letting your index finger, delicate, almost like a feather, trace the arch of his eyebrows to the tip of his nose and along his pouty lips.

“N-no… We can’t do this…” he groans in protest, holding onto a dangerous slippery rope that is ‘lust’. He finds it completely wrong to take advantage of you in this drunken state, but you seem to not care at all as you slide closer to him stepping on his sock clad feet. Your narrow rib cage with the pillowy softness of your bosom pressing against his chest, so alluring with your breath mingles with his own—that is his last straw.

He inches a hand downward and wraps itself around your waist as he gathers you close capturing your mouth with his in a dance of sorts, tasting with tender, tantalizing nips and slow strokes of his tongue. Feeling—yes—the excitement of his racing heart and the ragged edge of his breathing. You are so generous, so giving, so primally female. He has never done this before, but his body reacts, it is taut and hard and humming with impatience.

You ease his suit jacket off his shoulders and it drops on the floor behind him. Then he twists around, shuffling to his room until he falls backwards when his foot hit the edge of the gargantuan bed. Straddling atop him, you curl your hands into his pristine shirtfront and surrender to the consuming heat of his kiss. In semi-consciousness, your fingers flick open the buttons. He weaves his fingers into your silky hair as you continue to undress him. He spins your bodies around again, this time having his hips nestle their way between your thighs.

You want to touch him. You want him to touch you—all over—but all he does is touch you with his mouth and feed you kisses while devouring your good sense. He growls low in his throat as he abandons your mouth to drag his lips along your jaw. He licks at the delicate skin of your throat and closes his teeth on the tendon joining your neck and shoulder, sending sensation shooting through your body like a hot bolt of lightning. You shudder, half expecting your head to explode.

“Jaehyun… it tickles,” turning into a giggling mess when he slides his lips over your neck, kissing from the front to the sides to the back. He chuckles boyishly all the way and those giggles turn into breathy sighs, gasps when he lingers on the tender skin behind your ear. You moan, moving restlessly against him and nearly combust when the long, thick ridge of his arousal presses against you. Right where a painful, empty ache blossoms.

Every stitch of clothing removed and your entire body gives a single shiver as he enters with perfect precision, penetrating slowly all the way inside. He is so tender, so gentle with each thrust, making you cry out in blinding ecstasy and only crave him more. He revels in the new sensations of you enclosed around him so tightly, and how good your bare skin feels against his. It is a level of heaven he has never known existed.

“Oh God, you feel so good,” he curses under his breath, closing his eyes as he savors each moment rising towards his own orgasm, “Want to come inside you, is that okay? Can I?”

You cannot even form an answer properly with your mind fuzzy with absolute pleasure that adds to your intoxication, giving him a weak nod and clenching around him so he is moaning your name loudly. As you both reach the edge and shatter, you hold onto each other and squeezing whatever is there to reach out. Breathing deeper and faster, hearts pounding in your chests, laying there limbs tangled for quite some time.

Your internal clock wakes you up at eleven and you glance around trying to assimilate something of your surroundings. Your eyes, squinting in the sunlight that dance through the large windows. Your body, dressing in a pair of silk pajamas that is of luxuriousness you will never possess. Immediately, you head in the direction of what you assume is the bathroom. And your reflection, astonishingly clean and tidied up of the makeup from the night before besides the remnants of waterproof mascara and some semi-permanent “stains” on your skin.

Jaehyun looks to you popping out from behind the wall like a thief, his eyes falling to the shirt you are wearing and the corners of his lips twitch upward at the sight. You have not acknowledged his presence yet as you continue marvelling at the large apartment until you hear a soft chuckle from a distance. You shriek, there sits your superior at the dining table with a tablet propped up in a case.

“W-we’re… late for work,” you blurt out awkwardly, glancing at the clock on the wall.

There is a short pause before he speaks, “Well, good morning?” and tells you that he has called in to say that you are both away on a business trip. Skipping the fact that you are walking funnily.

The tips of his ears a cute shade of pink and it hits you, “D-did we…?” Such a stupid question when your neck and chest all over have hickies that match the big one on his clavicle. Boy, were you wild last night. He only answers with fake coughs and avoids looking directly at you.

Your eyes squeeze shut with a heavy sigh upon an internal breakdown. How are you supposed to maintain a great performance at work when the embodiment of your disaster is only a few feet away. Things will never be the same. Heck, it was never the same since the incident from a month ago.

“Please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid…” if sleeping with your boss is not dumb enough. You just have to be reminded about it over and over again. Is there any way you can shut down your brain or even better, trade it with someone else?

“...besides dragging me around by my necktie,” he mumbles, the shade of his ears intensifies and spreading to the column of his neck. Anyways, “Are you hungry?”

You are about to reject and scram off to your apartment just to hide this enormous feeling of embarrassment you are suffering at the moment but heaven does not help you. Your belly rumbles in hunger and he is instructing you to take a seat.

The smell of lightly burnt toast with a side of eggs and delicious bacon as well as the aroma of caramel coffee makes your mouth water. Though it is just a combination of simple brunch menu, he manages to get the job done perfectly and you are inhaling the food with a childish grin. The humiliation from before has whisked off and thrown to the back of your mind, replacing with the appreciation of having someone to fill you up instead. Wait— that sounds wrong. You choke on food and on the air itself at such polluted thought.

“Are you okay?” he rushes to your side giving gentle pats on your back.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, just—” you find yourself going red again when you see that maroon mark on his skin.

His hand finds purchase on your head, stroking endearingly, “Don’t get all shy with me now. You’re practically all over me last night.”

Right when you are getting mushy from the affection, he has to add that so you remove his hand and sigh heavily, “Mr. Jung—” his brows furrow at the formal address, “Maybe we should just forget about the whole thing—”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he interrupts, “I’ve seen the way you look at me and you should’ve known better. I would’ve transferred you to another department if I were so against it but I kept you by my side, didn’t I? You knew that I could hardly work with anyone else, I am stubborn at times and couldn’t even take care of myself, but the fact that you are always there when I need you… You understand me more than myself and you’re…” he heaves a sigh of overwhelming relief for finally getting off these words from his chest, “You’re just amazing…” There are sparkles in his eyes with the utmost sincerity.

Oh my Lord, is this a confession? Is it? This is a confession!

“So… you took me on a date to fuck me?” Your mind chooses to betray you at the very moment, being equally submerged by the revelation.

“I’ve never said that.” Bending, he leans closer, “But we had a great time. True?” and kisses your lips you stiffen unprepared. Seeing that you did not answer, he adds, “I don’t mind going for another. If you’re down for it too.”

Things do change afterwards. The atmosphere of that particular 45th floor of the office building has now blossomed with bubbles of pink. Jaehyun has the shades rolled up ever since and sometimes sending you flirty gazes. It is surely distracting but you do the same and never fail to grasp the chance just staring at him in awe and thinking, “Oh, this handsome man is mine!” The oftener he catches you watching and the intercom goes, “Missy, get back to work.”

Even so, Sooyoung still pay her regular visits. As she finally leaves his office, you are called over immediately and the first things you say, “What does she want this time?” not realizing your tone of speech.

He grins, victorious, “Were you jealous all this while?”

With a scoff, “Jealous my butt.”

“Had I known…”

“What?” What are you gonna do? I dare you!

“I would’ve kept her in longer,” he says nonchalantly, though you are fuming with his ridiculousness (knowing that he is only teasing). But still!

He is quick to catch your wrist when you turn to leave, and tucks you in the warmth of his embrace. Your nose filled with the scent of him. His cologne makes you think of green, grassy meadows covered with yellow flowers. So fucking good.

“Mr. Jung, it’s against the rules— Keep the dating scenes away,” you warn in a stern voice, feigning annoyance from his previous remark.

He leans closer instead and invades your space, capturing your mouth in a scorching kiss like he has been holding himself back for hours.

“My rules, my way.”

#nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct fluff #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun smut #pardon me I have no idea what I'm writing #this has been sitting in my draft for quite awhile

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msawesomehalffinishedfics · 4 years ago

Text

The teenager – Dean Winchester imagine

A/N: Sup, so I wrote this because I have begun rewatching supernatural. I will get to the request, I jus haven't had mental power due to writing an exam paper. But I had this idea I wanted to write and then it just turned out really long. Tell me if you like it or if you want more of it. :) Also this is like midseason 8, when they just got the bunker, but before Sam had done any trials.

Word count: 7,3k.

Hitchhiking as a 16 year old girl was never a good idea. It was a dangerous world out there, Nora’s mother had at least taught her that. But a teenage runaway does not really get to be that picky. She always looked over the people she hitched rides with and kept a switchblade ready just in case. Feeling it with her hand in her pocket always. Finally she was dropped off a little off the road. She thanked the woman who had picked her up and she smiled and told her to be safe. Nora waved after her as she drove off. The lady had been real nice, she had told her that she had run away from home when she was young too, and said she wished someone had helped her get home. Nora took herself in biting the inside of her lip nervously when she had said that, Nora was going home. Or at least she hoped she was. She knew it was a stretch as she walked down the road occasionally consulting the map where the man had drawn on it where she was headed. It should only be a few hours. The forrest nearby made the trip not seem too bad, not that many cars on this road. She knew it was desperate, she knew it was likely she would have to call the cops when she got there and get dragged a few states back to get kicked out of her old house. She knew all of this. She had heard her social worker tell her that her father was dead. But she had done research, she knew he vanished like this for a few years some times. And maybe it was a little naive, but she had this feeling in her chest that he was alive. She tried not to get her hopes up and tried to walk with confidence as she neared ever so slowly. Of course the dream scenario was he was alive and welcomed her with open arms, finally giving her everything she wished for. But she was realistic and knew that that was most likely not the case. She sighed as she neared the weird looking house. The man who had told her where to find them did say he was living in a bunker. She wandered around a little bit trying to find the entrance. When she finally did, she paused for a moment. What was she going to say? She took a deep breath and told herself whatever came to her in the moment had to be good enough. It would never be perfect anyway. She exhaled hoping it would calm her nerves, and heard her mothers voice in her head telling her to straighten her back. She did so and then figured she should fix her hair. She reminded herself internally that it was not going to be perfect and that she should quit stalling and just do it already. She had waited her whole life to meet the man.

She balled her hand into a fist and knocked on the door.

She stood there trying to appear confident, papers in hand, ready to shove them in his face so he could not refuse her. God she hoped he did not refuse her. She prayed a little internally, not really religious, but she needed this to go well. Finally the door opened, two men looking like they were in their thirties opened the door. One with much longer hair and a bit taller than the other man, he looked more like the photo she had from the social worker. She looked at him taking a breath before speaking to try and calm herself. This was a little insane. They both looked her over, seeming utterly confused, which she kind of understood, she had just come by very unannounced.

“Dean Winchester?” She got out looking them over but clearly focusing on who she figured it was. She tried her best to cover up how nervous she was. The guy crossed his arms and looked at her like he was trying to figure out what she was playing at. The second guy looked a bit more warmly at her but still furrowing his eyebrows.

“Who’s asking?” The kinder one said and she sighed.

“I just need to know if Dean Winchester is alive, and if he lives here? Please?” she said pleading a little, the tall one seemed to soften his look even more. He looked to the other guy who still looked at me sternly but after they clearly that had a short silent conversation they both looked back to her.

“I’m Dean Winchester.” The shorter one said a little reluctantly. Nora looked him over with a small smile she could not help but spread on her face. This was really it. He was really there, and alive. She let out a little sigh of relief and happiness that she had found him. She then smirked a little trying to regain her confidence, she wanted to seem cool after all. She stepped forward and pushed the file she was carrying with her into his chest before walking inside the bunker. She wanted to get inside, even if they were gonna kick her out in a minute. Plus she needed the bathroom.

“Congratulations. I’m moving in.” She said smirking she walked in and gawked a little. This place might be an underground bunker, seemingly from ancient times, but this was awesome. She looked around impressed. The two men followed her.

“What the hell? You can’t just barge in? Who are you?” Dean said from behind her in a stern voice looking at her with furrowed eyebrows. He was very confused and did not like people intruding on their space.

“And what do you mean you’re moving in? And congratulations?” The tall one said following after her as well and grabbed her arm. She looked at him thinking she may not have thought all of this through. But there was no turning back now, and maybe if she kept acting confidently she would not be pushed back on the street in five minutes.

“It’s all in the file, and I can explain. I just. I have been on the road for like 5 hours. Where is your bathroom?” She said, meaning it, she had to pee the last ten minutes, she was scared it was just nervous pee, but it seemed like it was staying. And if she was going back on the road the least they could do was loan her their bathroom. Dean looked at her still confused but sighed and pointed towards a door. She smiled and nodded walking towards.

“Back in like 2 minutes, then I’ll explain everything. I know this is weird.” She said walking into the bathroom leaving the two men looking after her confused.

She exited the bathroom a few minutes later, much more relaxed, still nervous about the situation she was in and she was really nervous about the conversation she was about to have. What if they took her to a doctor and her mom had lied? She was suddenly very nervous. As she walked out she was pulled from her thoughts as she was hit in the head with water. She spat a little then looking up at them in disarray.

“What the he-“ She was cut off being hit with a handfull of salt that the tall one threw at her. She looked up at him now confused and a little angry. She had been nervous now she just wanted to know what was wrong with them? This was not at all what she had imagined.

“What the hell?” She said Dean just pulled out a knife and pointed it at her, her eyes widened getting scared for her life now.

“Relax, cut yourself with this knife.” He said and she looked at him confused, what the hell was wrong with him.

“What the hell? No?” She said he rolled his eyes before grabbing her arm she struggled against him but he remained calm. Giving her a small cut on her arm. When he was seemingly satisfied he let her go with a smile, and reached into his back pocket for a handkerchief. He handed it to her with a small smile.

“Sorry about that. Just a safety precaution.” The tall one said she looked at him then back to Dean.

“Okay. Psychos.” She said annoyed and still very weirded out by this. She looked to Dean who was now looking at the file she had handed him. Not wanting to open it before he knew she was safe.

“Now, who are you?” The tall one said.

“Nora, Winchester, Reed?” Dean said, looking up at her utterly confused, she sighed a little with a small smile, calming down a little.

“Wait? Winchester?” The tall one said and she smiled a little awkwardly before nodding, she felt like she was apologising for it somehow.

“Are we related? I’m Sam. Why were you looking for my brother Dean?” Sam asked she looked over at Dean who seemed frozen in place, reading the file. Finally he took it down from his face and looked at her. Wiping his face, then looking at her again as if he was checking if she was real. He then laughed a little and shook his head.

“No. This. You can’t be.” He got out and Nora just shrugged a little awkwardly.

“Well, I couldn’t really test it. But yeah, it’s what my mom said too.” She said feeling a little bad. She had no idea what she had expected, for him to open the door, take one look at her and know, before hugging her and telling her how he had looked for her too. She knew that was a fantasy, but getting sprayed with water, salt and then cut before he finally looked her over not believing his eyes.

“We need to verify this. Come on.” Dean said grabbing her arm and grabbing a jacket on the way out of the bunker. Sam his she was guessing younger brother locked after them before nudging her towards an old black car.

“Cool car.” She said he looked at her pausing for a moment, before opening the door and in that real disappointed adult way nodded his head telling her silently to get in. She sighed and got in the backseat, truly feeling like a kid again. He got in the front seat along, his brother got in on the other side.

“Dean. What is going on?” Sam said as he pulled onto the road and he looked like he was driving way over the limit.

“Paper said she is my kid.” He said sternly, he did not sound pleased about this Nora noted but tried not to. Sam looked from her to him utterly confused but he did after a few times shrug a little.

“So we’re going to get a paternity test? Where did you come from? How old are you? Who is your mom? Where is your mom?” Sam started asking and Nora sighed knowing this was going to be a mouthful to explain.

“Well, um, kind of a long story.” She started but Sam just looked at her still confused and she decided to wait till they had more time, and maybe the men before her had calmed down a little.

Luckily there was a town not too far away, and they pulled into a parking spot. Dean opened the door for her and grabbed her arm again, even though she would follow anyway. She had always dreamed of meeting her dad. Her mom had told her a little about him, so she had this picture of him in her head. She wondered if he was going to like her. If he liked the same ice cream as her? If she looked like him? Sam thankfully walked ahead of us and talked to the doctor Dean looking over at her still seeming like he could not believe it. But he did not look angry per say which Nora told herself was not bad. That meant he did not hate her completely at least. A nurse came over and swapped the inside of their cheeks before walking off to do the test. They sat in the waiting room as they did the test.

“So. Yeah, to answer all of your questions, I’m 15, from New Orleans, so’s my mom. Well, she was.” Nora started looking down. She really did miss her mom.

“Oh, I have a picture, if you need to jog your memory. She did say you were a bit of a playboy, but one time is all you need.” Nora said, realising that she was rambling because she was nervous, also she looked at Dean and furrowed her face a little, she did not like the imagine she had given herself. The two men could not help but smile a little as she shivered at the thought of that. She then reached into her backpack and pulled out a leather-bound book, she opened it and found one of the photos of her mom she had kept. It was from when she was younger, she looked at it for a moment with a smile, she had ice cream all over her face, but they were both so happy here. She pulled herself out from the happy memory, by shaking her head and handing Dean the photo. He looked at her concerned for a moment. He looked at the photo and seemed to vaguely recall this.

“Excuse us for a minute.” He said getting up with an awkward smile dragging his brother with him. Nora smiled a little trying to remain calm. He hated her? Didn’t he? The only thing that calmed her was the fact that he seemed to throw everyone not just her around.

Dean looked at Sammy then the photo and the girl again.

“This is insane Sammy. I mean this has to be some sort of trick. Right?” He said and Sammy just smiled a little but sighed and nodded.

“I have considered it. But you saw her, no reaction to salt, holy water and she bled like a normal human. If there is no anomalies in her DNA. Then I don’t see how this could be a trick.” He said knowing his brother was gonna have a hard time with this. He could not help but feel for the girl and wanted to help her, even if she was not Deans kid.

“Come on Sammy. I get back from purgatory and suddenly this girl shows up claiming she is my kid. It’s too big of a coincidence. We don’t exactly have the best family history.” Dean said looking at his brother seriously.

“Why don’t I call Garth and have him look her up while we wait for the results, and until then let’s keep around?” Sam said looking at his brother. Dean looked at him considering what to do.

“Alright, but one false move and she’s out. Plus if she isn’t mine according to this DNA test, we are sending her back. This is too dangerous if she isn’t a monster.” He said Sam nodded knowing what he meant before turning to call Garth. Dean stood there for a moment not wanting to sit down next to the girl. After Ben he had sometimes toyed with the idea of maybe some day settling down with the right girl and getting a kid. But everyone he cared about died or got hurt. Hell this was dangerous as is, he did not need this extra responsibility. Besides he had not imagined getting an almost grown up kid dumped on him. He vaguely remembered meeting the girl in the photo. But he must have been no more than 20 back then. This was crazy. The doctor saw him standing there as she walked out. Sam had bribed her to get ahead of the line in the small town doctors office. She smiled standing before him.

“Well, I ran the test twice. Congratulations mr. Winchester, you’re that girls father.” She said putting her hand on his shoulder with a smile before handing him the file. Dean was shocked but quickly composed himself.

“Anything weird at all in her DNA?” He asked not really knowing what he was looking for. Apparently he was that girls father. He could not believe it. The doctor narrowed her eyebrows but shrugged before opening the file again, looking it over.

“No. Everything looks normal. Why do you ask?” She asked and Dean just sighed with a nod.

“No reason. Thank you.” He said before getting the file and sitting down next to Nora. She looked up at him nervously.

“Sooo… Is everything my mother told me a big fat lie and I have been looking for the wrong guy for over a year now?” She asked trying to play it cool on the inside she was trembling. On the outside a little bit too, her hand shaking a little, Dean noticed but did not want to comment on it. This was too much to wrap his head around already.

“No. You’re good.” He said very awkwardly. She let out a breath visibly relaxing.

“Why didn’t your mom? Or you? I mean?” He started not being able to complete his sentences she turned to him and shrugged.

“Mom lost your number and we didn’t need you. Social services tried to call when mom died but we were told you were dead. But I looked at your file to try and figure out where you were buried and you had been dead a few times before so I figured there was no harm in looking for you. You are not an easy man to find Dean Winchester.” She said, he smiled a little taking it as a compliment. She looked down seemingly more awkwardly as there was an awkward tension between the two, neither really knowing how to process the other being there.

“So… Uhm. I know it’s a lot and everything. But would you mind if I moved in with you at the bunker. First of all it is insanely cool. And I just. Now that I know you’re alive, and you know I exist, maybe I could get to know you? I mean its fine if you dont want me there, and you have a life without me. And think this is all just too insane. I just figured you and Sam are the only family I have left so it would be a shame to waste it you know?” She said rambling on, she had a tendency to ramble when she was nervous. She looked at him and he looked like he was considering it.

“What about school? Your foster family and friends?” He asked trying to be responsible for once in his life, trying to think about what Sam or Bobby would say in this situation. She looked down again as he looked at her. She looked very sad and it kind of broke his heart.

“You want me to leave? Because I understand if you do. I transferred to home schooling last month, otherwise you could just enrol me in whatever school, I get pretty good grades. I left my foster family a note. Besides if I go back I’ll get in trouble for running away, so I’ll probably get thrown in another group home or something.” She said looking at her hands trying to cover up how disappointed she was. She should have known this would happen and she felt stupid for even trying. Not that she was losing anything, the Wests were nice enough but they clearly only took her in for the check that came with her. Dean on the other hand was sitting there thinking how a little part of him wanted her to stay, but he could not help but have this feeling like he was being tricked, and that he would screw this up. Everything in his life was a mess and the bunker was not exactly kid friendly. He thought about his dad, his mom, his grandad, how he had watched them all die. He looked at the girl beside him. He did not want to burn and bury her as well. Sam walked over and smiled.

“Garth is on it. So?” He asked his brother putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah.” He said still a little in disbelief about all of this. Sam smiled a little.

“Congratulations. Let’s get some food to the bunker and we can celebrate. You can stay with us a least for a little bit Nora.” Sam said smiling at the girl she lit up and smiled picking up her backpack before giving him a hug. He did not expect it but thought it was nice change and with a small smile put his arm around her for a moment before she pulled back.

“Thank you. Uncle? I guess. Oh my god, you’re not gonna recruite me are you?” She said laughing a little as she realised it, seeming a lot more at ease now. Something about Sam being there cut the tension that was between her and Dean. Besides Sam seemed nice and like he truly did want her there. Dean she was still uncertain about. She turned and grabbed her backpack off the floor putting her notebook back into it.

“Can we get pie?” She asked as they got up to leave the doctors office, Sam grinned and nudged Dean who was just watching this quietly from a distance, but even he cracked a small smile.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” She asked looking at her dad and uncle confused hoping she had not committed some weird blastfamy or something by asking for pie.

“No. It’s just. You’re definitely his kid.” Sam said laughing a little.

Dean offered to buy the food while Sam and Nora waited by the car. Dean had offered because he needed to get away from all of this for a little while. This was a lot, and Sam liking the girl and inviting her to stay was one thing, but he was gonna have to be her dad. How would he even go about this? He did not even know her. How was he going to know what to do when she was sad or angry? It was not like his dad had set the best example. He prayed a little hoping Cas could hear him. Not because he thought the angel would make this situation any better, but because he would like someone to tell him this was going to be okay. That he was not going to screw up this girl like he did everything else. He payed for the food and walked to the car to see his brother and Nora chatting away by the car. She seemed to be a lot more at ease now that Sam had told her that she could stay.

“Let’s go.” He said getting them into the car and driving back to the bunker. He had no idea how to approach this.

They ate food, and she told them more about her life. Sam and himself told her a little bit about themselves, he gave Sam a look when he mentioned hunting and kicked his shin a little. He did not want the girl getting exposed to this just yet. This was probably a lot for her too.

They assigned her the bedroom between him and Sam and she smiled thanking them. It was getting late and she got ready for bed. I looked over noticing she only had her backpack with her. That was not a lot of stuff if it was everything she had. When she was seemingly off in her room Dean turned to Sam concerned again.

“How you feeling Dean?” Sam asked concerned for his brother, he had not said too much all night and he could feel that this was a lot.

“Look Sammy. I just. It’s a lot okay. I never thought I would have any other family than you. And now I suddenly have a teenager? I don’t know how to do this? Where to even start.” Dean said honestly, Sam sighed and put his hand on his shoulder.

“I know. It’s a lot to process, but Dean. We have more family now. You have a kid. This is amazing, you could try and look even the slighest bit happy that she’s here.” He said and Dean sighed.

“Well, I can’t Sammy, because I’m not happy she’s here. I mean you know what we do. She should not be apart of this world. It’s not just a lot to process. It’s a lot. You really want her in our lives?” He said frustrated, but meaning the words he said.

“I understand Dean, but come on. We can’t just turn her away.” Sam said but Dean gave him a stern look.

“Easy enough for you to say. You’re her uncle. She is my responsibility. I don’t need this on me as well. I don’t want her to be here, be apart of this. Our lives are–“ Dean was cut off by some rumbling behind them. They turned around to see Nora looking up at them tears in her eyes as she looked at them, clearly listening in, she stood there for a moment and Dean realised what she had heard, but how she could not understand how he was doing this for her safety. She nodded once before bowing down to put on her other shoe. Grabbing her jacket and backpack from the floor and walking past them to leave.

“Nora–“ Dean started trying to start explaining everything to her, even though he knew this was probably for the best.

“No. It’s fine Dean. It’s fine. I’m used to not being wanted, and I don’t wanna be somewhere where I’m not welcome.” She said clearly trying to suppress her emotions, all of her hopes of what this could be crushed, she turned around and left the bunker. Sam turned to Dean and looked at him disappointed.

“How was I supposed to know she was listening?” He asked his brother exasperated, Sam just crossed his arms looking at him sternly.

“Dean. We have to go after her.” He said and Dean sighed thinking it over once again before looking up at Sammy with a sad look. He would do whatever it took to protect his family.

“No. Sammy. This is for the best. Everyone we love dies. We are always in the middle of some crazy cosmic battle. You honestly want this girl in the middle of all of that? I would rather have her hate me than have her deal with the insane things in our life.” Dean said truthfully. It was what he had been thinking ever since he found out. He wanted her to go back to New Orleans, get a normal foster family, forget everything about him, go to college, get a job, get married, get kids of her own. Have a normal life. She could never have that if she was with him and Sam. Sam looked at his brother like he understood for a moment.

“Dean. I get it. I get that you’re scared something will happen to her. But it is the middle of nowhere, it’s dark out. If you really wanna send her away. At least wait until the morning.” He said truly scared that something would hurt his niece. He did like the girl, and he understood what his brother was saying, no one not even them lived very safe or normal lives. Dean’s face seemed to change when Sam mentioned this. He grabbed his jacket and headed to the car grabbing a gun and a flashlight from the trunk, handing Sam both before grabbing ones for himself.

“Let’s find her.” He said, sternly, seemingly going into hunter protection mode.

_______________

“Nora.” They took turns yelling as they walked around the dark woods looking for her. Even though they would be the first to notice paranormal activity in this area, they also knew a lot of demon angles and other creatures had it out for the brothers. So alone at night near them was recipe for disaster and both Winchester brothers knew it.

Nora was walking through the wood for a while, ended up getting lost and was currently sitting on top of the bunkers stairs not really knowing where to go from there. She meant what she said, about not wanting to be somewhere she was not wanted. It was one of the reasons she had run away in the first place. She knew it was stupid to try and run away from a bunker in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, but she had no idea what else to do. The brothers wandered around as far as the could and started heading back. Sam could feel his brother getting agitated.

“Dean, we’ll find her. Relax.” Sam said and Dean turned to him frustrated.

“I can’t Sammy. Right now, this girl could be dead in a ditch and the last thing she heard was me saying I didn’t want her. I’m gonna send her away because our lives are dangerous, and I want her to have a normal life. Doesn’t mean I want her last memory to be that. So no. I can’t relax.” He said walking onwards leaving his brother a little stunned. Sam even smiled a little as he followed his brother. He could see and feel the same worry he had seen on their dad and Dean when they were younger. He understood that his brother was against the idea of him being a parent, but he sure looked like one right now.

“Let’s head back, see if we can contact her, and then go back and look some more. Okay? We’ll find her Dean. We’ll find her.” Sam said putting a hand on his brothers shoulder trying to remain optimistic. He thought how he done that a lot today. But he did not mind being able to help his brother a little bit today, still feeling a little guilty for leaving him in purgatory. They neared the bunker when Dean bolted from Sammy.

“Nora? Are you okay?” He said concerned running over to her. Sammy now first noticing the teenager sitting on the steps in the rain.

“Yeah. I got lost, and I don’t wanna be here as much as you don’t want me here. But could I just sleep on a couch until it gets light outside or something?” She asked clearly trying to remain strong. Dean checked her over to see if she was hurt and sighed a little as he could see that she was only just a little wet from the rain.

“Of course. Come on.” He said pulling her inside, she looked at him weirdly but followed along. As they got inside, Sam got them some towels and they started drying off.

“Why don’t I make us some tea? Then you two can talk.” Sam said giving Dean a look telling him silently to tell her what was happening. She just smiled awkwardly but walked into the living room and sat down at the table not wanting to disturb Dean. She felt like she knew that he didn’t want her, and he was just waiting to figure out how to tell her. He sat down beside her and sighed not knowing where to begin.

“Nora–“ He started but Nora just cut him off.

“It’s fine Dean.” She said and he looked at her stunned. She sighed and gave him a small smile.

“I’m not a kid. I understand that I was not exactly planned for you. And that you have a life here without me. I didn’t expect you to drop everything to live in a picket fence house with me. It’s okay. I just wanted to see you. Maybe know you a little. But I understand why you wouldn’t want me.” She said trying her best to be mature and handle this with grace. He could see her struggling and he felt his heart break a little looking at her. Having her think he did not want her. I mean she’s right, he thought, this had not been his plan at all. Hell, if you had told him yesterday that he had a kid he would have laughed at them. He looked at the girl beside him, she looked sad and like she could use a break. He wanted to be there for her, but he had no idea where to start. He also knew he never wanted to feel that terrified again as he did when she had run away.

“It’s not that I don’t want you. You were a surprise, big time, yes. Look Nora, what me and Sammy do, our lives. They’re messy. We’re always getting tangled up in dangerous situations and we are on the road a lot with our jobs. Hell we live in a batcave! Our lives aren’t exactly kid friendly. I want you to have a picket fence and all of that. But I can’t give you that. That is what I was talking to Sam about earlier.” Dean said, the words seemed to pour out easily once he started. He sighed a little and looked over at her to see how she felt, she looked at him seemingly in thought probably processing his words. Maybe this was the better way to part with her. She would know that he did want her but he could not give her the life she needed. She smirked and then shrugged leaning back into her chair.

“Cool. I’m staying then.” She said looking at him defiantly. Deans eyes widened in shock and then he got a little frustrated.

“No. Young lady. You are not. I am trying to protect you. And to do that you can’t be with us. Don’t you want a normal life with a house and picket fence and prom and stuff?” He asked and she just smiled a little and turned to face him.

“I already had all of that with my mom, the normal life, the house. Look, you can’t convince me I’m safer out there that in a bunker with you two to protect me. You and Sam. You’re the only family I have left. Even if it is just for a little while, I wanna know you. I haven’t known my dad all my life. I am not going to give up a chance to just because he is scared I’ll get hurt. You really think that sending me away to a foster home is better?” She said looking at Dean he thought over her words. She could just stay there for a little while and the second something went south they could get her out of there. He would be lying if he said he did not want to know his own kid. Now that she was here.

“You’re my daughter Nora.” He started, also admitting it to himself for the first time. She was not just a kid, she was his kid. He looked at her hoping to god he was not messing this up. He really wanted to do one thing right. Maybe she would get bored of the bunker after a couple of months and leave on her own. Besides if she left, how would he know she was okay? This way he could make sure he never had to be scared like he had been tonight again. He smiled a little.

“You can stay.” Dean finally said and Nora’s face lit up a little.

“But the second something goes south you are going somewhere safe. Capice?” He said smiling a little seeing her happy. She rolled her eyes but then smiled a little and gave a small nod.

“Awesome.” He said and she laughed a little. They turned to Sam who was watching them from a distance a grin on his face. Dean rolled his eyes at his brother.

“Shut up.” Dean said making Sam laugh as he walked in to the room putting down cups and the kettle. Dean leaned back and smiled, he was still unsure how he was going to be her dad. Hell, he had no idea how to feel about being a dad at all. Plus he did not know her, how was he going to handle all of this, on top of all of the supernatural crap they were always in the middle of. But he looked at her laughing with Sammy holding her tea in her hands and he knew as long as he could see her being happy and safe he would be okay.

After drinking a cup of tea, he followed her to her room giving her her backpack in the doorway.

“Is this really all your stuff?” He asked and she just put down the bag and shrugged.

“Yeah. Just the most important things at least. It’s fine. Really.” She said and he just smiled a little and shook his head.

“Relax, we’ll go buy you some more stuff in a few days. Just please don’t take forever to shop.” He pleaded making her laugh, he did hate shopping.

“But then how will I find the perfect prom dress?” She joked and he laughed, she smiled. They both seemed to stand there as he stopped laughing, a little awkwardly, neither knowing what to say, she decided to be a little bold, figured what the hell she had done reckless things all day, what was one more thing? So she stepped forward and with a small smile wrapped her arms around him giving him a hug. He seemed a little stunned at first, but wrapped his arms around her after his brain seemed to start working again. He smiled a little at the thought. This was the first time he was holding his daughter, maybe he was 15 years too late, but better late that never. He looked down at her and she sighed relaxing a little and he could not help but smile. His kid. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He had only felt like this with Sammy a few times. This was a person he, even if he had not been a part of it up until now, helped create. And he was going to make sure she turned out as perfect as she had started. He kissed the top of her head and she pulled back with a small smile.

“Thank you. For everything, Dean.” She said quietly.

“No worries. Now off to bed young lady.” He said smiling feeling good to be able to say that, she laughed a little as he did so but nodded seeming to accept his little order.

“Goodnight Dean.” She said turning, he smiled as she closed the door to her room, but leaving it open so slightly, which he appreciated.

He went back and joined Sammy in the living room and drank a beer with his brother in relative silence trying to process every thing. He had gotten his first hug from his daughter today. He had gotten a daughter. He was going to take her shopping tomorrow. He made a mental note about not spoiling her. He thought a little sadly about how much of her life he had missed. But looking at her when she hugged him, he thought he could feel that magic feeling parents talk about. No one was ever going to hurt her. He thought about how even though he had missed much of her childhood he had so much left with her. He would still get to make her food. Teach her to drive, maybe even shoot. He would be there if she got sick. If she wanted to go normal school he would see her off her first day of school. He would be there. He thought about how they were going to handle her when they went on a hunt.

“Hey, Sammy. What are we gonna do when we have a case? We can’t exactly have Garth or Kevin babysit.” Dean said making Sam laugh at the thought of Garth or Kevin trying to babysit.

“I think she would take offense to getting a babysitter any way.” Sam said and Dean smiled a little and nodded once agreeing with him. She definitely seemed like it.

“Are you considering taking her with us? She could stay in the motel while we work.” Sam suggested, but Dean thought it over and made a grimace.

“She’s staying here, and calling us every two hours.” Dean said to Sams small amusement.

“You’re not considering what I said?” He said and Dean just looked at him like he was stupid for a second.

“Nope. I’m her dad, I have final authority here. And even if I didn’t I’m still the eldest.” He said point at his little brother who shook his head at him. Dean sighed getting serious.

“But seriously, it’s not like it was fun for us sitting in a motelroom all day while dad was hunting. Maybe this will be better, and if not we’ll bring her with.” Dean said and Sam nodded agreeing with him, he looked at his brother admiring him a little. He had seemed so nervous about this, but he was a natural, Nora was in good hands. Dean was thinking about the kid, he was still nervous about everything, he knew this could end badly but he was praying a little that everything was going to work out for her, even if it didn’t work out for him. When he got in contact with Cas again, he was going to ask him to watch over her too.

Later that night Sam caught Dean standing outside Nora’s bedroom watching her sleep silently with a small smile on his face. Sam walked over to him and Dean turned to look at his brother before turning back to Nora.

“She’s not going to disappear in the night Dean.” Sam whispered with a small amused smile. He could definitely see his brother getting that new parent crazy already.

“I know. I know. It’s just. I have a daughter Sammy.” Dean said quietly tearing up a little with a smile on his face. Sam smiled at his brothers happiness and put his arm around his shoulder. Dean sighed and looked at Nora again before closing the door and turning to leave, knowing he could not watch her sleep all night. He was truly happy, he had just checked on his daughter in her room, that was crazy, he smiled. Then a thought hit him and he turned to Sam looking at his brother seriously.

“If she ever brings a boy home, we’re getting out the big shotguns.” Dean said sternly, meaning it. No stupid boy like he was when he was young was going to mess with his daughter. Sam just laughed at his brother but nodded.

“Oh yeah.” Sam said, knowing fully well that he would be equally protective of whoever his niece would bring home.

He left his brother to go to bed as well, trying to comprehend what had happened today. Dean was a father. He had a teenage daughter non the less. He was going to have his hands full. I have a niece, Sam thought with a small smile on his face.

Both brothers went to bed, neither of them know how completely sold they clearly both were with the newest edition to the Winchester family.

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