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justanotherblonde23 · 3 years

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An Unexpected Surprise - A Marcus Moreno Story

Author’s Note: So with some encouraging from my friends, I decided to post my writing! I know that technically we don’t know anything about Marcus Moreno, but that superhero dad has been taking up space in my mind rent free all week. I tagged people that I know wanted to read this and a few that I thought might enjoy it. Please let me know what you think! -Kat

Content Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), P in V

Tags: @autumnleaves1991-blog @dindjarindiaries @frannyzooey @zeldasayer @hdlynnslibrary @jollyrancher87 @bisexual-space-slut @woakiees @scribbledghost @softpedropascal @catfishingmorales

Marcus trudged into the house, it was at least 2 in the morning, and he was absolutely exhausted. He was always exhausted these days; his age was catching up to him. He may be a part of the Heroics, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting older. He was balancing heroism, kids, a spouse, and trying to give them some semblance of a normal life. He was ready to retire, be involved in every aspect of the kids’ lives, and see his wife in more than just the middle of the night and before leaving for work. He had given enough of his life to the service of the world; now, it was about time to provide all of himself to his family. Missy, his eldest, was already 11 and getting older every single day. Jules, the baby of the family, was about to turn 5, just about to leave the toddler years behind her. He felt as if he had missed so much of their lives; he didn’t want to miss anymore.

Most of the house lights had been turned off, signaling that most of the inhabitants were fast asleep. He hoped that at least he could get a kiss or two from the woman he loved. Maybe she would still be awake. He made his way up the stairs, checking the kids’ rooms. He planted soft kisses on their foreheads, smiling at their serene expressions. What beautiful little girls he had, he was the luckiest father in the world.

He frowned, opening the door to the master bedroom; the soft glow of artificial light bathed the room in a yellow haze. There she was, his love, sitting in the middle of the bed, clearly wide awake, wearing her glasses and frowning at the hologram in front of her. Someone was working even later than Marcus himself. He took in her form; she still hadn’t noticed him quite yet. She was wearing a silky nightie that hit her upper thigh and a matching robe loosely tied around her. His cock stirred in his pants. Even as spent as he was from the day, the view in front of him made him want to take her to bed and fuck her senseless.

“Dr. Moreno, hard at work, I see,” he teased.

Her eyes shot up, smirking at him. I’m not quite Dr. Moreno yet, Marcus. You’d have to marry me first,” she teased.

“We had a ceremony-” he started.

“And someone still hasn’t mailed the marriage certificate, even though it’s been two months. All you gotta do is bring it to the post office, baby. I’d do it myself, but somebody insisted that he’d be the one to do it.”

Marcus groaned, falling onto the bed beside his wife (that’s what she was to him, even if he didn’t mail the marriage certificate yet). He heard some shuffling and a command for her AI system to file the holograms working on for the night. He’d lived with her for four years now, and he still hadn’t gotten used to all her tech. If he was a hero in name, she was the genius behind every piece of technology in his arsenal, as well as all of the other members of the Heroics. Her superpower was her mind, that gorgeous, intricate, genius mind of hers. Her ability to retain information, learn, critically think, and create was almost impossible to fathom truly. At 33, she had twelve doctorates in various fields, including engineering, physics, nanotechnology, and art history. Her thirst for knowledge and eagerness to invent was unparalleled, even among other enhanced individuals. He would never stop singing her praises; she was a wonder.

“Marcus, baby, do you wanna shower and go to bed? It’s late.”

He sighed, starting to relax into the feeling of her fingers carding through his hair. “Baby, if you keep that up, I’m gonna fall asleep right here and now. I took a shower at HQ before I left, so I’m good.” He opened his eyes when her fingers stilled, looking up at the beautiful woman with the soft smile leaning over him.

“Do you think you can stay up for a little bit longer, honey? I have a surprise for you.”

He sat up, scooting up against the headboard, kicking off his shoes. He felt wide awake now. His wife wasn’t typically one for surprises on any old day. He wracked his mind, trying to make sure that he hadn’t missed her birthday, their dating anniversary, or any other consequential, momentous occasion.

“I didn’t forget a special day, did I? Fuck, amor. I’m so sorry if I did. I’ve been spread so damn thin since the wedding; I’ve been running around like a madman.”

She placed a tiny cream-colored box in his hands, his wife sitting right in front of him, eyes sparkling with excitement. “You didn’t miss anything, Marcus, just open the box. You’ll like it, I promise.”

He nodded, pulling at the perfect bow holding the box closed, carefully opening the lid. For a minute, he just stared at the contents of the box, his eyes wide with shock. Ever so slowly, he picked up a pair of teeny baby booties, placing them in his large palm. He took the second item out, a pregnancy test that digitally read, PREGNANT. His hands began to shake; tears began to overflow, tracking down his cheeks. He looked up, his gaze locked on the woman in front of him.

“Sweetheart, are we-? Are you-? We’re- we’re having a baby?” he managed to choke out.

There was one more item in the box, at the bottom, an ultrasound labeled Baby Moreno. He studied the picture intently, his thumb moving over the little blob on the paper. That was his baby, their baby. They were having a baby.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, “we’re having a baby!”

A giggle made him raise his eyes once again. “That’s what I said, too. I’m about ten weeks along now. You’re going to be a daddy of three, Marcus Moreno.”

He scooped up everything in his lap, dumping it on the nightstand. He quickly grabbed his wife, flipping her so that she was under him. He covered her face in kisses, whispering how beautiful she was, how she was so loved, so treasured, so cherished. How their baby was made of nothing but love, how they were precious cargo, and how he would protect both of them every single day of his life. He kissed down her jaw, down her neck, eliciting breathy moans from the woman underneath him. His kisses went lower and lower until he reached her belly, pulling her nightie up around her waist so that he could get to her bare stomach. He planted dozens of kisses all over her belly, in awe of the life growing in there.

“Hey baby, it’s your daddy,” he cooed softly. “Your mommy and I already love you, little one, and you’ll have two big sisters that I just know will love you too. I can’t wait for you to be here, little baby. I promise I’ll be here for you.”

He looked adoringly at the mother of his youngest child, grinning as if his world had been made complete, and in all honesty, it had been. This baby, this tiny little one growing inside of the woman that he loved most, filled a hole in his heart that he hadn’t even been aware of.

He bit down on his lower lip, smirking while ever so slowly pulling off her panties. He would lavish the woman he loved with every ounce of devotion, adoration, and love he had to offer. A breathless Oh please, Marcus was all he needed to motivate him to continue. He opened her legs up, giving him access to her slit, wet and wanting. He groaned, the sight making his mouth water. If he had it his way, Marcus could spend hours between her thighs. Two fingers lightly toyed with her slit, moving up and down, collecting her slick.

“Look at you, baby, so wet for me, and I’ve barely touched you. If this is what pregnancy does to you, amor, I might have to start keeping better work hours so I can spend my time between your thighs.”

He could see her hips try to follow his fingers, desperate for more than he was giving her. “Marcus, don’t tease, please,” she whined. He chuckled, easily giving in to her pleas. He couldn’t say no to her, not tonight.

He buried his head between her legs, tongue coming out to lick a broad strip all the way to the top of her slit, his nose nudging her clit. She tasted like heaven, making him moan into her core, sending pleasurable shivers up her spine. He speared his tongue into her, getting as deep as he could, fucking her pussy with his tongue while her fingers tangled themselves in his curls. He kept exploring her folds with his tongue, hitting all the spots he knew would make her see stars.

He easily pushed in two fingers, causing her to buck her hips up, matching his pace. He focused his tongue on her clit, alternating between drawing lazy circles and sucking her into his mouth. His fingers hit that sweet spot inside her with every thrust, bringing her closer and closer to her release. Before he knew it, she was cumming around his fingers, squeezing him tight and pulling him deeper. His mouth flooded with the taste that was uniquely hers, prompting him to moan. He could feel himself rock hard in his pants, leaking with his arousal.

He crawled off the bed, swiftly ridding himself of his clothes, placing his glasses safely on the nightstand. He grabbed her glasses as well, placing them next to his own. She had shrugged off her robe and nightie, languidly watching him, her eyes blown wide with desire.

“Marcus, I need you inside of me,” she begged. His large cock rested heavy against his stomach, tip red and leaking. The thought of him inside of her was almost too much. She needed him, and she needed him right now.

He settled over her, catching her lips in a deep, earth-shattering kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, letting her taste herself. Marcus was intoxicating, enthralling, and all she wanted was more. Finally, they broke apart, panting slightly.

“Dr. Moreno, my lovely wife, mother of my child, let me make love to you. Let me show you how happy you make me, sweetheart. I want to make you touch the sky,” he whispered into her ear.

She beamed at him, cradling his cheek gently. “Yes, baby, I’m all yours.” He leaned back in, catching her into another searing kiss. He worked his length up and down her slit, coating himself in her slick, bumping her clit a few times in the process. At last, he began to leisurely enter her, inch by inch. They both groaned when he bottomed out, fully seated inside of her.

“Fuck honey, you’re just so tight, so wet, so warm for me,” he whimpered, moving inside her with slow, deep strokes. He wanted to make this last, to draw out her pleasure. With every thrust, he told her how good she felt, how beautiful she looked underneath him, how her pussy was made for him, how perfect she was. He could’ve gone like that for quite some time, slowly bringing her closer and closer to her high. Only her pleas of more, faster, harder made him speed up.

He grabbed one of her legs, placing it higher on his hip, allowing him to hit deeper inside her. Her hips moved in unison with his own, meeting each thrust into her. He would never get tired of the pretty sounds she made for him when he was fucking her. Those breathy moans she let out, the babbling it all spurred him on. He could tell she was close. She always got so fucking wet and even tighter right before she came. He dropped a hand between them, rubbing hard, tight circles around her clit. Not even a half dozen thrusts later, and she was wailing in ecstasy, clamping down on him like a vice. He wasn’t far behind, spilling himself deep within her, muttering her name over and over like a prayer.

He rolled off of her, panting, taking a minute to catch his breath as he gazed at her blissed-out form. Hair a mess, chest heaving, lips swollen from his kisses to Marcus, she was stunning. He couldn’t think of a moment when she was more gorgeous than right then and there. He could look at her forever, just like this.

Eventually, he got up and grabbed a warm cloth, gently cleaning her off. Turning off the light, he climbed back into bed, pulling her body to his, cradling her close. He let his hand wander, rubbing soothing circles over her belly.

“You’re gonna look so stunning, honey, all round with our baby. I promise I’ll take such good care of you. I’ll do whatever you need.”

He could feel his wife sigh, completely relaxed in his arms. He held her close, basking in her warmth and the love between them. He let his mind wander, thinking of the future, thinking of this baby.

“I’m gonna cut back at work, move more into an advisory role in the Heroics. As your pregnancy progresses, I’ll be able to work from home and take a solid chunk of paternity leave when the baby comes. I’ve given enough of myself to the world. It’s time for me to give everything I can to my family, to you, to the girls, to this baby. I’ll go drop off the marriage certificate tomorrow before I go into HQ to talk about restructuring my job. That way, you’ll officially be Dr. Moreno, even though you’ve already been that to me for a long time.”

She answered him with a happy sigh and kisses to his hand that entwined with hers. “I’d like that, Marcus. It might be selfish, but I want you here, with us. We love you so much; it’s nice when you’re here. It makes our family complete.”

They spent a few more minutes talking about the future, drifting off into deep, dreamless sleep. The thought of tomorrow was full of bright promises, just waiting to be embraced.

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x y/n #we can be heroes #pedro pascal

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calyxestra · 2 years

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End of year questions for writers and artists

Tagged by @heartoferebor, thank you! Answers under cut. Anyone who would like to answer the questions, please consider yourself tagged! :) (If you work on projects that don’t fit neatly into writing and artmaking, feel free to apply the questions to your work as well)

Questions:

1. What project are you most proud of and why? 2. Which project did you have the most fun making? 3. Which project was the most unexpected and/or challenging and why? 4. Which project would you like to receive more attention? 5. Is there a project you intended to work on but couldn’t find the time? If so, what is it? 6. Have you noticed an improvement in your skill this year? Did a specific project help? 7. If you could remake any project you’ve created this year, which one would it be and why? 8. What project would you like to make next year?

These are hard questions. When I have time to draw I blurt out so much stuff almost on autopilot and with barely any forethought that I rarely consider any particular drawing to be a “project.” That said...

1. most proud of

This was actually planned and executed over more than one drawing session. I hadn’t figured out how to color the figures until I filled in the background, then chose the colors for the figures based on that. Also, this was done in GIMP, so many layers (because of the way I work in GIMP, nothing inherent to the program). It’s not the prettiest drawing I’ve made in 2021, but I certainly put effort and care into it and didn’t give up, so I’m proud of that.

2. most fun

Everything under the tag “silliness” and especially “reblog with a drawing” is fun (hooray for audience participation, you all leave very entertaining tags which inspire me—sometimes I have to hold the idea for a response in my head for hours and can’t wait to sit down and doodle it out).

3. most unexpected/challenging

I already had the base painting but animating it with the changing hair and eye colors and sparks and lighting was challenging: not because it was inherently so but because I took so very long to figure out how to animate things in Clip Studio Paint. Had already done some simple blinks/flickers/fades in previous animated illustrations, but forgot everything and had to regoogle it all. I was thinking I’d be done animating this really quickly and instead sat there clicking around the animation tools in CSP going “???” for quite a while.

4. would like to receive more attention

Geoffrey McCullum from Vampyr. I should draw him more. His facial structure is interesting and, like with Regis, I just can’t get it right intuitively.

5. wanted to work on, couldn’t find time

I want to learn to draw comics (the whole shebang, backgrounds and figures and lettering and everything) and do a couple of comic-style pages for ideas I’ve held onto for a long time. Unfortunately I love drawing the same faces over and over again too much to have the motivation to put brainpower towards learning new stuff in my downtime.

6. improvement? specific project?

Yes, I’d gotten more comfortable with ArtRage then switched to Clip Studio Paint in mid-October and am finding my footing in that. I’m not sure how to quantify the improvement except that the art (most of the time) looks nicer (closer to ref? more coherent in thumbnail?). There wasn’t a specific project, just a lot of drawing the same faces over and over again, looking at different kinds of references (paintings, photos, video stills, game screencaps), and being very lazy (and hence finding shortcuts to do a reasonable amount of stuff within short drawing sessions, like my color blob way of starting color portraits; I could do a whole little post about how being lazy has shaped my way of drawing digitally).

7. remake?

Interesting question. Since most drawings are just a spur-of-the-moment thing, there are few drawings I’m invested in enough to want to improve them. I know just about as soon as I post something where the major flaws are that need fixing, but usually I just leave it be and move on to the next drawing. But I actually just redid Book!Dandelion (Oct 2020 vs. Dec 2021):

First one was in the Calyxestra Copies series (i.e., pastiche), done on my old drawing tablet and in ArtRage. Second one was done with reference to an Artbreeder pic I generated last year; drawn as the first complete piece on my new tablet (with a screen!), in Clip Studio Paint. Fabrics are still out of my comfort zone, and that poor hand looks so muddy, but at least the face isn’t so blurry this time, ha. I think drawing directly on a screen where I can see where the pen tip is going on the picture itself is going to result in a lot less imprecision and fluffy edges :)

8. next year?

I would really like to make those two little comic projects that I have in mind at some point. But again, I’d have to learn to draw more than just faces reliably... One "project” I’ve been keeping for when I got my new tablet is tracing some penciled lineart and turning it into a complete piece digitally. Nothing big, just have to remember to do it.

#about my art #ask game #end of year asks #I don't know how to tag this

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i-stan-nct-and-satan · 3 years

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Not Broken (Jaehyun Mafia au pt 16)

Not Broken Masterlist

Jaehyun X Reader

Y/N is a burlesque dancer living in Seoul. Jaehyun is one of the most powerful mafia men in Seoul. How will Y/N survive when Jaehyun suspects that she is involved with a rival gang?

Reasons to read this story: Ten’s a cross-dressing madam so….. yeah read it ya freaks.

Trigger Warning: mentions of past abuse

Beep! Beep! Beep!

My head instinctively turned to stare at the alarm. I watched as it continued to beep. Usually, the harsh tones of the alarm were enough launch me out of bed. Every morning I somehow managed to reach the ungodly contraption to silence it before it even began to muster out its third beep.

Not today though.

I had been lying awake long before my alarm started to sing its first note. I had just been staring at the ceiling, anticipating the events that were to come. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get at least a bit of sleep. I probably managed to get in a few hours before waking up to see that the neon green numbers I had gotten used to seeing read, 2:46 a.m.

My mind was too anxious to fall back asleep, but my body was too stubborn to leave the comfort of the satin sheets which were messily draped over my body.

I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about what awaited me and I felt as though leaving my bed would be what put said events into motion. Thus, when my alarm began ringing, signaling to me that it was time to get up, instead of rushing to towards it, I merely stared at it. I continued staring until the digital clock changed from 4:00 to 4:01 and then to 4:02 and finally to 4:03 before I decided it would be best to put an end to the incessant beeping before it caused a disturbance to those who still might be sleeping.

I dragged my body towards the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked dead, not like I cared. In a way, I felt as though I might actually be dead; that perhaps I died long ago and that every event since my death was the result of divine punishment. Punishment for what, I didn’t know.

I chuckled at the overly dramatic thought.

I splashed cold water onto my face in an attempt to return my rationalities, though it was no use. There was nothing rational about my situation, so how could I think rationally while in it?

I instinctively began brushing my hair, before stopping midway to curse myself. It was like I could see into the future. That narcissistic scumbag, Jaehyun, would interpret any step I took to freshen up as an attempt to impress him, something I definitely didn’t want him thinking.

When I trained with Jeno, it would take me roughly an hour to fully wake myself up, get dressed, and freshen up before heading down to the training room around 4:50. I could tell that today, I wouldn’t need as much time to ready myself.

I quickly tied my hair up in a ponytail, simply to keep it out of my face. When I opened my closet, Jaehyun’s words found themselves at the front of my mind.

“You should wear something blue. The color suits you.”

I scoffed to myself as I grabbed the first blue piece of clothing I saw and threw it to the side, missing the trashcan by more than a few feet. I instead picked out a yellow workout shirt and grabbed my regular leggings from the floor. I only had a few pair of leggings so I would often re-wear the same pair, not wanting to wash them after every use. I brought the leggings up to my nose and smelled the already worn-out fabric. They were definitely reaching the point where they needed a wash. I put them on anyway. A part of me hoped that the smell of old sweat would keep Jaehyun from making any advances, or at least turn him off from the thought.

It reminded me of how women would skip shaving their legs before a date to prevent themselves from going home with a guy, though in my case, it was like putting my legs on display to keep the guy from thinking I’d want to go home with her in the first place.

I looked at the clock.

4:34.

I definitely finished getting ready much earlier than usual, but I didn’t want to make any steps towards the door just yet. I even considered waiting until it was after 5:00 to leave my room, just to spite Jaehyun for telling me that being late wasn’t an option. This thought lost traction as soon as I remembered the things Jaehyun was capable of when even just the tiniest bit annoyed.

Better not to anger him.

<><><><><><>

“Right on time, babe,” Jaehyun welcomed me in the most unwelcoming way possible.

He was already on sitting on one of the weight machines. From the beads of sweat that dripped down his jaw on onto his white t-shirt, I could tell that he had already gotten in quite the workout. I wondered how long he had been there for.

I didn’t want to ignore him, but I didn’t want to exactly engage with him in conversation either, so I gave him my best “fuck you” smile and proceeded to set my water bottle down on the mat.

“What? No greeting? Not even any pleasantries?” Jaehyun asked as he stood up from the machine. He stared back at me using one of the gym’s towels to wipe his red tinted face.

I silently scoffed, smiling at his audacity.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Hello Jaehyun! How are you? Still holding women captive and forcing them to be your bride? Oh, you are? Well, isn’t that just swell?”

I expected Jaehyun to snap at me for such insolence, or to at least look a little upset, but he just smiled back at me and laughed.

“That’s funny,” He said wagging his finger at me.

“Just remember, who’s training you for the next hour.”

I froze, unconsciously biting my tongue. He was right. I shouldn’t push my luck too much. I had no idea why Jaehyun was in such a good mood this morning, but I knew it was in my best interest for it to stay that way. At least until after our little competition.

Like a beaten dog who’s finely entuned to their master’s change in mood, I noticed a sudden glint of disappointment in his eyes. I watched them trail over my body in search of something he just couldn’t find.

Once he noticed my noticing, he exhaled abruptly as if he were expelling his thoughts along with his breath.

“Let’s start by going over yesterday’s match.“

I stared at him silently, waiting for him to elaborate further.

Jaehyun looked away briefly, clearing his throat in order to break the silence.

“I am of course, referring to the tactic you used...”

I continued to stare at him not quite sure where he was going. He stared back, gauging my reactions.

“-or am I just assuming that your decision to storm me was a strategical one?”

“Does it matter? It didn’t work,” I responded.

Jaehyun relaxed a little.

“Ah. So, it was thought out.”

I silently sighed to myself, ready for him to explain why my strategy was flawed or how my impulsiveness is what led to my defeat. I already began piecing together my response. I’d probably ask him how else I was supposed to fight against someone much stronger than myself, or if there even was such a tactic. I could feel the words bubble in my throat waiting for the criticisms, he was about to list.

“You surprised me. That’s not something that happens very often. You should be proud.”

“Wait, what?” I blurted out, suddenly breaking my façade of nonchalance.

Jaehyun’s eyes widened a bit only for them to crinkle as he laughed.

“What? Were you expecting me to say something else?”

I reached my hand up to rub the back of my neck. Once Jaehyun understood that I wasn’t going to give any more of a reply, he flashed me a smile that seemed too genuine to have come from a man so... well, ingenuine.

“I’m being serious. I was really quite impressed. You were fighting against someone you had no chance of winning against, at least not with physical prowess, so you came up with a strategy and not just any strategy, a good one. You understood that I had certain expectations of you and you somehow managed to subvert those expectations in your favor. I had expected you to be hesitant in your actions and assumed that you would wait for me to make the first move. Yet, as soon as the whistle blew you came at me full force. I mean-” Jaehyun stopped abruptly to stare at me.

I was smiling.

I hadn’t meant to. I just wasn’t thinking about it. I mean, could you blame me? Maybe it was just my ego. What can I say? I’m the type of person who likes being praised. Sue me.

As soon as I realized why the sudden pause, I forced my face back into one of disinterest. I silently prayed that he would let it slide just this once.

He didn’t.

“Don’t get big-headed on me now. Just because a cat learns it has stripes, it doesn’t suddenly make it a tiger. You still have a long way to go before you’re ready to use your claws,” He said with a smirk.

I couldn’t tell who I was more embarrassed for; me, for having come across as a girl who just got called pretty by her crush, or him, for having used such a cheesy metaphor, one he was somehow proud of.

“Now let’s go over some technique. Yesterday, when you charged me, I used a simple maneuver to use your own force against you. Come over here, I’ll show you,” He explained, walking towards the center of the mat.

I hesitated but opted to follow suit as he had instructed. I stopped when I was roughly 4 feet in front of him.

He took a few steps closer, causing me to back away.

He paused.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to slam you down this time. I’m just going to show you what I did so that you can learn how to avoid it next time, or perhaps even do the same to me.”

I didn’t back away because I thought that he would slam me down on the mat. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. I just didn’t really feel comfortable with being handled by him, even if it was for instructional purposes.

He stood there, waiting for me to come closer. When I didn’t, he took another step towards me instead.

Again, I took a step back.

Jaehyun let out a sigh.

“How am I supposed to teach you if you won’t even let me touch you?” He asked, obviously annoyed.

“Can’t you just explain it to me verbally?”

“Of course, not. Even if I were to show you the move by doing it on someone else, that doesn’t mean that you’ll be able to recreate it when push comes to shove. Muscle memory is important. You should know that as a dancer.”

I quirked my head to the side.

“You can learn to dance from watching others dance.” I retorted.

Jaehyun stared at me as if he were a teacher waiting for a disruptive student to stop acting out.

I looked down at the floor.

“That may be true when preforming a solo act,” He began.

“But what about when you’re learning a choreography that includes more than one person?”

“Then we practice the choreo on our own. Even when we practice together, it’s not like we really need each other,” I asserted.

Jaehyun groaned.

“I’m talking about dances that directly rely on being in sync with the other person’s moves. Like this.”

Before I could dodge his advance, Jaehyun wrapped his arm around me, capturing my waist and pulling my body into his so that our chests were practically pressed together. I tried to wriggle my way out of his grip but before I could, he used his other hand to grab mine, tightly squeezing it as if warning me that he was not in the mood to play games.

“Can you waltz?” He asked.

“Never tried it.” I answered.

Without any other warning, Jaehyun began moving his feet dragging me along with him.

As he moved in precise uniform movements, I stumbled around awkwardly, somehow managing to step onto his feet with every other step. Instead of scolding me, Jaehyun continued to waltz, ignoring my steps as though I were merely a ragdoll he was throwing around as he danced to a song only he could hear.

“The Waltz is a uniform dance with very little room for variance. One could learn the steps and even master them on their own only to flounder around like a fish when matched with a partner.”

“Yeah, but you can’t exactly learn the steps from practice alone. You need some sort of instruction,” I complained.

Jaehyun’s steps came to a sudden halt. Instead of releasing me like I had expected him to, he let my body fall, catching it in what I recognized as a “dip.”

“I completely agree, so why don’t we do a little of both? I’ll lead.”

He released his grip on me and I fell flat onto the mat.

I sat up, seething with annoyance. Jaehyun stared at me, arms crossed and with a grin so wicked, it’d make the devil anxious, though I’d be surprised if a devil greater than Jaehyun truly existed.

<><><><><><>

Jaehyun showed me exactly how he managed to pin me down so fast. When I came running towards him, he applied a heavy pressure to the top of my chest, thus using my own force against me. He explained that by stalling my upper half, I actually did half of the work for him in knocking me down. Because I had charged so fast, my legs barely had any time to catch up as my upper half was held in place, so they continued to run, flipping me onto my back.

Once I understood where exactly I went wrong, Jaehyun spent the first half of our session showing me different ways to keep myself guarded against an attack so that I could, in his words, “not be used as a weapon against myself.” The second half of the session was spent showing me examples of ways I could use someone’s force against themselves as he did had done to me. This part was my favorite because Jaehyun let himself fall to the mat every time I followed his instruction in order to show me exactly how the move would work. Even though I knew he was letting me take him down for practice’s sake, I still enjoyed hearing the loud smack it made when his body came in contact with the mat.

When we finished, he tossed me my water bottle. I quickly down the remainder of its contents.

“Here, toss it back,” Jaehyun called out, his hand outstretched.

I did as he instructed.

He began walking away motioning for me to follow.

Once we made it to the water fountain, Jaehyun opened my bottle and filled it, tossing it back to me before taking his turn to drink directly from the fountain.

I stood there watching him, unsure of what else I could do.

Once he finished, he turned to me.

“How’s your rib feeling?”

“My rib?”

I looked down at my torso having remembered where Taeyong had touched it. The pain, which was sharp and sudden at the time, had now turned into a dull constant.

“It’s alright, I guess. Better at least.” I informed him.

Jaehyun looked at me, navigating whether or not I was lying.

“Good, that’s good. I was worried that after yesterday I might have made it worse.”

It was strange. I knew that he was the one who broke it in the first place, but that didn’t keep me from seeing his sincerity.

“I’ll try my best to avoid damaging it any further during our match. I’m sorry that’s all I can do for you given the circumstances of our bet.”

I knew that his statement was bullshit. I mean, he knew about my rib when he decided upon the terms of our bet. I knew that fighting him on the matter would be pointless though.

“Will it go back to the way it was before it was broken?” I asked.

Jaehyun seemed caught off guard by the sudden question.

He took a second to think.

“Are you trying to ask if it will heal properly, or if it’ll go back to the way it was before it was broken?”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” I asked.

Jaehyun gave me a look that seemed to question if I really didn’t know already.

I quirked my head to the side showing him that, no, I really didn’t know.

“When a bone breaks, it's because the bone’s developed a fracture.”

“Okay?” I scoffed, asking if he was really trying to explain what a broken bone was to me.

“Just, listen,” He continued.

“During the healing process, a callous of extra strong bone forms around the fracture, bonding it together again. This new extra strong bone is meant to protect the fracture as the bone heals but once the bone is fully healed, the area of the fracture is stronger than it was before the break ever occurred so-”

“So, bones heal stronger?” I interrupted.

Jaehyun smiled gently towards me and took a step closer.

“Y/N, I can’t tell you that your rib will go back to the way it was before, because that wouldn’t be the truth. What I can tell you though, is that maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

Jaehyun reached a hand out towards me. Before I could think about it, I jerked away from his touch.

Jaehyun hesitated before reeling his hand back. He looked away from me for a second before returning his gaze to mine.

“We should probably start today’s match so that you have enough time to get ready.“

<><><><><><>

Just like the day before, Taeyong blew the whistle and shortly after, I was pinned to the ground. This time I didn’t charge at him, instead I chose to go on the defense. It didn’t take long for Jaehyun to make his move, pinning me instantly. Luckily for me, I didn’t suffer any pain, just frustration. It was like Jaehyun had just picked me up and set me down, easily managing to hold me there until Taeyong called the match.

I wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still disappointed. The Jaehyun’s newly discovered tenderness from before the match had disappeared, immediately replaced with his usual dirtbag self. Not more than a second after the match had ended, he instructed Taeyong to escort me back to my room to catch me up on today’s plans. Before he left the room, he turned back towards me as I just gotten back on my feet and said, “Don’t be late now, Honey.”

I scoffed at him. He laughed at my reaction which made me want to do a lot more than just scoff at him. I was caught off guard by his sudden usage of the pet name I had called him at dinner the night before. It became clear to me that that’s why he used it instead of opting for “Kitten,” like I had come to expect from him. When spoken by him, the word felt less like a term of endearment and more like a taunt, though a taunt was still better than a threat.

“At least he’s in a good mood,” I thought to myself.

Taeyong brought me back to my room, instructing me to shower and put on the dress he left for me on the bed. Once I did as I was asked, I opened the door to let Taeyong back in only to see that both Haechan and Jaemin had been waiting there with him.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Wow, Y/n. You aren’t gonna ask why I’m here?” Haechan pouted over-dramatically.

“I already know why you’re here, Dongfuck. You don’t have a life and so you like to drop in on mine,” I quipped lightheartedly, suddenly realizing that I had to come up with a new nickname for Haechan now that I’d discovered that his name was, well... Haechan.

Fuck, what insult even rhymes with Haechan? Faketan? No that’s stupid and probably problematic. Besides, Haechan’s darker skin tone is literal perfection. Even I have to admit that.

I physically shook my head before going on.

“I’m asking why Jaemin’s here because he normally takes care of Jisung and Chenle around this time of day.”

I turned to Jaemin who simply laughed as Haechan stuck his tongue out at me.

“Wow, you really were close friends before this, weren’t you?” He commented.

“What do you mean were? Haechan demanded wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

“Y/n and I are still as close as a pair of conjoined twins.”

“Please, never use that metaphor ever again.” I sighed already exhausted from the encounter.

“Anyways, today you’re going to be officially meeting Chenle and Jisung as their soon to be sister-in law. Jaemin is here to make sure that it goes well,” Haechan explained, answering for Jaemin before the poor man even had the chance to open his mouth.

“Wait, what?”

Instead of explaining further, Haechan guided me towards the vanity, sitting me down in the chair, and immediately going to work on my hair.

Taeyong and Jaemin both sat on the bed and got to explaining the situation.

“So, as you already know, Jaehyun has two younger brothers, Chenle and Jisung. I believe that you’ve already met them before, but as a hostage, not as their sister-in-law.

My mind flashed back to meeting the two younger boys back when I still had horrible bruising all over my face. I recalled the image of a queasy Chenle, asking if his brother really was the one who did that to me.

“I can’t tell them the same story, I told Jessi. They already know that Jaehyun was the one who nearly beat me within an inch of my life!”

Taeyong and Jaemin looked at each other, obviously aware of something I was not. Haechan on the other hand, continued to act like a dumbass.

“Ooh! Already on a first name basis with the former lady of the house, are we? So, I take it you’ve successfully gained Jessi’s approval, not that I’m surprised. Personality wise, it’d easier to believe she was your mother than Jaehyun’s. I mean-”

“We’ve already taken that into consideration,” Taeyong began, cutting Haechan off right in the middle of his rant.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just leave since I’m just gonna be a nuisance,” Haechan pouted.

When no one acknowledged him, he scoffed in annoyance, but stayed quiet.

“You see, the boys actually know a lot more than just that,” He continued, glancing at a now sheepish Jaemin.

“The boys have a habit of eavesdropping and while they were supposed to be in my care... I accidentally fell asleep and they listened in on one of the group’s official meetings.” Jaemin admitted.

“At the time, you were still under suspicion for IU’s death.” Taeyong explained.

A look of horror took over my face, causing one to come over Taeyong as well.

“D-don’t worry! Everything has been cleared up. They know that you are not responsible for the death of their sister. They have also been informed that you are responsible for the death of Lucas. They know that you killed him on accident in an attempt to fight for your life, though out of respect for you I didn’t going to any other details of what you went through that night.” He said in an attempt to reassure me.

“Wait, but if they know the truth then what about-”

“Mrs. Ho? She is to remain in the dark about the true nature behind Jaehyun’s and your relationship. They understand the gravity of the situation and have been instructed to speak as little as possible about anything that might rouse suspicion. Jaehyun and I have also decided that it would be best to pretend as though you’ve become something of an older sister to the two of them, but that this is the first they are hearing about your engagement. That’s why Jaemin is here, to help you learn as much as you can about the boys to make this ruse as believable as possible.”

“What the fuck?” I exclaimed, dumbfounded as to how on earth Jaehyun and Taeyong could have decided that this was the best route to take. Having me pretend to know about and be extremely close to a pair of teenagers that I met once and talked with for all of like, what? Five minutes?

“I know it sounds daunting, but Chenle’s been feeling a bit under the weather lately and Mrs. Ho is aware of that, which gives us an out if anything goes wrong. We even have a signal in case Chenle should need to bring up his condition as an excuse to cut the meeting short.”

“Still though,” I hesitated, not fully convinced.

“Listen,” Jaemin interjected.

“You don’t have to act like a big happy family, giving them hugs and stuff. If anything, that would make Mrs. Ho really suspicious. Just act like how you would any other teenager. Act snarky, roast them, I don’t know. There are more ways to show closeness than acting like you're in a lifetime Christmas special. Besides, it makes sense for you to not know everything about them since Mrs. Ho still believes that you and Jaehyun met only a few months ago. We just have to get you knowledgeable enough for Mrs. Ho to-”

“Knock! Knock!” Someone called from outside the door.

“Why say ‘knock?’ Why not just do it if you’re gonna say what you’re doing?” Haechan groaned, almost unreasonably annoyed by the knock knock-er’s chipper demeanor.

Taeyong scowled at Haechan before walking toward the door.

“Who is that?” I asked.

“That should be Momo with the boys,” Jaemin answered.

“Wait, what? Why are they here? I’m not ready.”

“It’ll be fine. Think of this as a practice round. You’ll do great!” Jaemin gave me two thumbs up as Taeyong opened the door.

I definitely was not ready and by the looks of it, neither were they.

Momo and Taeyong stood by the door as Jaemin motioned for Jisung and Chenle to come over.

It hadn’t been more than a couple days since I had last seen the two of them yet I wouldn’t have recognized the yellow haired boy had I not been expecting to see him. While Jisung looked almost exactly the same as the day we met, Chenle looked as though he were the one who had been locked up in the estate’s basement, not me. The dark spots that lay wrapped below his eyes took up more space on the young boy’s face than the eyes themselves. The state of his cheeks made it obvious that what he lacked in sleep, he definitely wasn’t making up for in calories. The chubby cheeks I had remembered were long gone, now sunken in to the extent one might mistake the boy for a character in a Tim Burton movie. He looked less like a teenaged boy and more like an old man, hair loss and all.

To describe him as a bit under the weather as Taeyong had only moments prior would be like saying that Hitler was kind of a douche; not necessarily untrue, but definitely not the most accurate way of portraying the severity of things. Chenle looked sickly, though I couldn’t think of any sickness with symptoms so... apparent.

Neither him nor Jisung looked particularly excited to see me, which is of course understandable since to them, I’m practically that one distant relative who your parents made you hug as a kid despite your apparent discomfort. Though, while Jisung just looked awkward and unsure of where he should focus his eyes, Chenle looked at me as though I were the cause of his illness.

It looked as though simply being near me was physically painful for him. I kept his gaze, trying to uncover the cause of his extreme discomfort towards me. It was strange. There was no hatred in his eyes, something I should have been relieved by given that we were going to have to act all buddy-buddy with each other, but I couldn’t help but wonder why he was looking at me like a child who’s about to be told on to his parents.

“I thought we could start with you guys telling Y/n your interests. Does that sound good?” said Jaemin.

The two took turns telling me about which video games were their favorites and about what sports they played at school. It was awkward at first, especially since it felt like the first day of school and our teacher decided to make everyone takes turns introducing themselves and saying three things about themselves, something which teachers don’t understand is actually torture in its purest form.

Though I was lost as fuck when Jisung tried to explain this game called Amoungus to me, Jaemin interjected to ask the two of them what their favorite show was. That was when things started to look a bit brighter.

“Well, right now, me and Chenle are watching this show called HunterXHunter.”

“HunterXHunter?” I asked, suddenly more serious than was necessary.

“Uh, yeah. Have you heard of it?” Jisung asked, confused.

“Which one? The 1999 one or the 2011 one?”

Both of the two boys lit up a bit.

“Wait, there’s a 1999 version?” Chenle asked, this being the first time he spoke without being needing to be nudged first by his brother.

“Uh, yeah. And get this, it’s better. Don’t get me wrong, the newer one is great. I love the art style, but the 1999 verion includes more from the manga that the 2011 version completely leaves out.”

“You read manga?” Chenle asked, excitedly, and for a split second, he resembled the boy I met before, still strung out, but not as much so.

“No, I just read an article comparing the manga to the show- Of course I fucking read manga,” I replied, probably laying the sarcasm on a little too thick.

I paused as the two boys looked at each other and nodded.

“Do you like shoujo or shonen better?” Jisung asked, though it sounded more like a demand.

“I won’t lie, I like shoujo a lot. Don’t roast me though I like both. It depends on my mood. Sometimes I wanna read a high-stakes power fantasy battle palooza with fucking lasers, and other times, I just wanna read about a high-schooler asking out his crush.”

“I get that,” Jisung nodded.

“Yeah, that’s because you get all your dating advice from playing dating sims,” Chenle snorted.

Jisung glared at Chenle and raised his hand, but quickly lowered it as though reconsidering hitting him when the older is in such a weak state.

The four of us started laughing only to be interrupted by a concerned voice.

“Mrs. Ho, what are you doing here?” Taeyong stuttered.

Momo quickly bowed to her, prompting Jaemin to stand up and do the same.

“Is it strange for me to be walking around my own house?” Jessi asked eyeballing Taeyong.

“No, of course not ma’am. It’s just that I was expecting for us all to meet at the dining room table later today like what was planned.”

“I too thought that that was to be the case, but when I heard my son’s laughter from Y/n’s room, I figured I’d stop by.”

Jessi walked further into the room. Everyone did their best to hide any signs of the shock, nervousness, or stress they were feeling, though nobody did a good job.

I let out a soft laugh. To think that I was going to have to rely on them, they’re the ones who’ll be depending on me to make this go smoothly.

“Jessi! What’s up?”

Jessi wipes the back of her hand over her forehead as if wiping off an imaginary bead of sweat.

“Whew. Thank god. I thought you were gonna be all formal with me again just because there were others around.” She laughed, taking a seat on the vanity table

“You know, this might actually be better having a formal meeting anyway,” Jessi said, switching to Korean for the rest of the room’s inhabitants.

“Oh, uh... sure. Why not?” Taeyong replied.

Jessi stared at him silently, making Taeyong even more nervous.

“Well?” She asked.

Taeyong hesitated, unsure of what to do.

“Yes?”

“Go get him.”

“Pardon?”

“Jaehyun. Go get Jaehyun. He should be here for this shouldn’t he?”

“Ah. Yes. Of course. Right away.”

Taeyong gave me a look as if to ask if I’d be okay while he was away. I gave him a little nod and made a “shoo” motion in response.

Both him and Momo disappeared, her bowing once again before making her exit.

Luckily, the moments that were filled with Taeyong’s absence had been taken up by the exchange of simple pleasantries. I asked Jessi how she slept, she told me she slept well. She asked me the same, I replied the same. Then she turned to Jaemin to ask whether Chenle had taken his medicine yet, to which he responded with a simple, yes.

Taeyong returned as quickly as he came which was surprising given how Jaehyun must have been busy with other matters given the meeting’s spontaneity of the meeting.

He entered the room following Taeyong and stopping to rest his hands on my shoulders as he stood behind my sitting place. I had expected him to do something physical since his mother was here, so I was able to mentally prepare myself and refrain from flinching away from his touch.

The meeting was short, with Jaehyun announcing that he and I were getting married. Jisung and Chenle reacted with surprise and then faux excitement. I hadn’t needed to do much except for sit there, which was a relief. Jaemin and the kids were the first to leave, with Jaemin announcing that it was time for them to work on their homework. Taeyong escorted Jessi back to her room leaving Jaehyun and I to be the only ones left.

“Good job.” Jaehyun said, now having sat directly in front of me on the bed.

I nodded trying my best to hide my anxiety.

“Tomorrow I’ve arranged to have several dresses sent to the estate for you to try on. You may pick whichever one you like. My mother will be there to aid you.”

“Dresses?”

Jaehyun laughed at my reaction.

Jaehyun set his hands onto the bed and leaned back slightly.

“I do believe that it is tradition for the bride to wear a dress on her wedding day,” He mused.

“Oh.” I muttered.

Jaehyun stared back at me with a relaxed smile.

I took the time to get a good look at Jaehyun, something I hadn’t thought to do during the meeting. He wore a simple white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his forearms. I remembered walking in to find him sitting on the weight machine only a few hours earlier. It made sense that he worked out given his build. Body types like that don’t just happen naturally. Even his hands were muscular.

I felt conflicted. If I had seen this man on the street a month ago, I probably wouldn’t hesitate to imagine those arms wrapped around me, or maybe even his hands digging into my hips, but after what I had experienced, all I could think about was the feeling of losing consciousness as their grip tightened around my throat.

I did my best to be subtle as I looked down at his thighs. I wasn’t surprised to see that the light grey slacks did little to hide that they, like his arms, were... large.

We sat in silence just staring at each other until Jaehyun stood up from the bed, now at least 3 heads taller than my sitting form.

He leaned forward resting his hands on the armrests of my chair. Trapping me.

I froze.

“It’ll probably take the entire afternoon to finish all the work I have left, so I likely won’t be joining you all for dinner.”

And with that, he left.

<><><><><>

Jaehyun was right. He wasn’t be able to attend dinner. I wasn’t surprised by his absence; It was everyone else’s absence I was surprised by. Not a single member of 127 nor Jaemin or Jeno attended dinner that night, leaving Jessi, Jisung, Chenle, and I to awkwardly sit around theorizing about what business they had that kept them away.

<><><><><>

Jaehyun could feel his blood boil as Taeyong and Jeno made him aware the sudden turn of events.

“And you’re sure the messenger was unaware of the message’s contents?” He asked the two men.

“We’re sure,” Taeyong answered.

“Since we don’t usually receive deliveries directly to the house without being made aware of them in advance, I took every precaution in questioning the man myself,” added Jeno.

“His story checked out. We quickly confirmed that he was a registered courier at a local delivery service within the district. I opened the letter in front of him and once I realized its contents, I demanded all information regarding the letter’s origin. After informing Taeyong, we sent over several men over to inspect their security footage, but it seems that the letter was actually delivered to them via a different delivery service. We have men over there as well checking their footage and all, but it seems as though they managed to send the letter through a system I’ve never seen before. The letter was put into several other envelopes, each one containing instructions and payment for the next delivery. Since each company only opened the outer envelope, we were unable to see any past instruction that may had been included before the letter reached each individual company.”

“How long will it take to trace the source of the letter?” Jaehyun inquired.

“We don’t know. It depends on how many companies they went through. We won’t be able to locate the original sender, especially if their trail is long gone by the time we reveal any trace of their identity. We might not even be able to discern how long the letter has been in transport for quite some time. Our best guess is that it’s only been in transport for 1 to 2 days.” Taeyong sighed, showing his frustration at the situation.

Jaehyun dragged his hands down his face, his good mood now a distant memory.

“Two days, huh?” He pondered, staring down at the piece of paper he held in his hands.

If you fail to hand Y/N over to us, then prepare for a red wedding.

“Call everyone up here, now.“

Jaehyun watched silently as his office began to slowly fill with the members of 127.

Taeyong and Jeno made sure to inform them all of the gravity of the meeting thus ensuring that none of the members were to speak until Jaehyun officially started the meeting.

“Where is he?” Jaehyun demanded.

Everyone began exchanging glances, not yet sure of who exactly it was that Jaehyun was referring to.

“We’re here,” Taeyong announced as both he and Winwin entered the room.

“And where exactly were you?” Jaehyun asked, making it obvious that his question was directed more at Winwin than the both of them.

“He was in the library, reading,” Taeyong answered for him.

“If he was that close, then why was he the last to be found?”

Winwin approached Jaehyun. He reached his hand into his pants pocket, retrieving a pair of earbuds before placing them on the oak desk.

“I had them in, so I couldn’t hear my name when it was being called,” Winwin smirked, staring straight into the eyes of the man sitting in front of him.

Jaehyun scowled.

“You know, Winwin. Ever since I relieved Johnny of his duty to keep an eye on you, I often spent my time wondering where you were and what you could be off doing.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet?” Winwin commented, his tone filled with mockery.

Instead of getting angry, Jaehyun smiled, catching everyone, including Winwin off guard.

“As it turns out, my musing was pointless,” Jaehyun explained, as he placed the letter on the desk, directly on top of Winwin’s earbuds.

Winwin read the letter without needing to touch it or lean closer to it.

He frowned but said nothing.

Jaehyun continued.

“I don’t have to ask myself where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing because I already know.”

Winwin already knew what was coming.

“You’ve been telling Wayv our secrets.”

The meeting went as one would expect. Jaehyun showed the letter to the remaining members, had Taeyong and Jeno go over what they had gone over earlier with him, and then Jaehyun posed the very important question, “How come only days after Johnny stopped watching over you, we receive a letter from Wayv confirming that they found out about the wedding?”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Yuta interjected.

Everyone looked up at him expectantly. Yuta froze, as though he came to Winwin’s defense without having even thought of what he was going to say.

Before Jaehyun could move on, Taeil began to speak.

“Wait, he’s right. Didn’t Taeyong and Jeno say that we have no way of knowing for sure how long the letter has been in transit? It’s possible that the letter has been in transit since before Johnny stopped keeping watch over Winwin.”

“Yeah,” Yuta exclaimed, having regained his momentum.

“And besides, wouldn’t Winwin have known that updating Wayv this soon after regaining his freedom would put him under suspicion?”

Jaehyun paused.

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t out rule the likelihood that Winwin’s loyalty is with Wayv. It’s highly probable that he prioritized his mission to leak information over his own safety.”

“No, that’s not necessarily true. If that were the case, then why would Wayv have sent such a message? If they knew that the wedding going to be announced in five days anyway, then why would they put Winwin under suspicion? Wouldn’t they want us to trust Winwin so he could leak information more easily?” Taeil pressed on.

Jaehyun, Taeil, and Yuta continued arguing with each other as Winwin and the others watched in silence.

“I’ve made my decision,” Jaehyun announced.

“Winwin will be removed from any NCT related activity until further notice and will be placed back under heavy watch.”

“Will I be the one to watch over him again?” Johnny asked.

“No,” Jaehyun answered.

“This time, Taeil will be the one to watch over Winwin.”

“But sir, I thought you said you didn’t want me to watch over him given our close relationship.”

“I am aware of that Taeil, but given how eager you are to prove Winwin’s innocence, perhaps that will motivate you in making sure that nothing gets past you. If Winwin were to fall under suspicion again, just know that you’ll be the one to we turn to in confirming his innocence. I also doubt that if Winwin were to display suspicious behavior that you would try to cover up for him.”

Jaehyun looked at Winwin.

“Today cameras will be set up in your room. You are not to leave your room without Taeil there to escort you. You will not be permitted to use any electronic devices without Taeil either. As for the rest of you,”

Jaehyun looked around the room.

“From this moment on, no one is permitted to speak to Winwin regarding anything NCT related.”

174 notes · View notes

my-own-oracle · 3 years

Note

Could I get a fluffy Drift romantic Valentine thingy?

Of course! Every bot deserves some love. You didn't specify any specific version of Drift, so I'm going with the MTMTE version. If you wanted RID15 or something else, just let me know. Sorry, this kinda got long; I've been without power for the majority of 3 days, this was one of the few things I could to do.

You still kept track of the days that passed on Earth. At first, it was for your own amusement. Wanting to keep track of the time on Earth, but as some holidays came and went, you kept track to keep the connection to your home alive. You kept track of the calendar changes, making a special note when you entered the month of February

You planned, quietly and carefully, gathering spare datapads and using your little stash of credits to purchase a small gift for a particular bot. It was hard keeping the whole thing a secret, considering most of the things you had to hide away were significantly larger than you, but by the power of pure determination, you managed.

You spent hours locked away in your hab-unit, carefully typing out cheesy Valentine's poems for your friends. Most following the 'roses are red, and violets are blue' format. And when they were done, you beamed.

You spent the day dragging different data pads around to other bots. Tailgate had even decided to help you for a while, flying you around on his hoverboard, laughing and talking with you as you made your way through the large ship. Even with his help, the event took up most of the day. Slowly everything was handed out. All but one Valentine remained.

You bid a farewell to Tailgate as he dropped you off at your hab-unit. You had to do this delivery alone.

This was the Valentine that mattered the most.

**** Drift had spent most of the day with Rodimus, talking about everything from different tactical plans to the many ways the Co-captain could encourage and rally his mechs with a more powerful aura. Or at least Rodimus pretended to listen to that last part. Either way, Drift had spent several hours with his friend. During that time, the spectralist had spied an unusual sight, a datapad in Rodimus' personal quarters. "Did someone slip that in here when you weren't looking?" Rodimus laughed good-naturedly before shaking his helm.

"No, the Space Cadet dropped it off. She's celebrating an earth holiday today and is passing out some gifts to bots she thinks will appreciate them. Rodimus passed the datapad over to Drift, letting him read the short poem written on it.

"Roses are red, And you are too. I am so thankful, To be friends with you."

Drift found himself smiling as he reads the blurb of text below it, where you explained Valentine's day and its significance to humans in your own culture.

"So this day is used to express love and gratitude to those around you?" Drift clarified, smiling a little wider as Rodimus nodded.

"She told me humans also use this day as an excuse to express more romantic kinds of love too."

A feeling of jealousy settled in his tanks.

"(Y/N)- she is truly a wonderful person. Did she pass out many of these?"

"She had a large stack. You'll probably have one waiting for you in your room," A servo pushed into drifts shoulder plating.

"I doubt that we-" he calms his spark before speaking again. "We may be friends, but we hardly spend time alone together. I think she's frightened of me."

"Uhhh I-"

"She must have learned about some of the things in my past. She can hardly look at me in the optics when we're together, and if we are alone, she can't speak. I fear that I may be terrifying to be around.."

"Okay…. Have you ever thought that maybe your being," Rodumis rolled his optics, "I don't know, a little overdramatic?"

Drift pondered the thought. But no matter how he looked at it, the hesitant gaze, the fidgeting when together, the quietness she only had around him, all signs pointed to her fearing him.

"Drift, please, don't make me be the responsible one. It goes against my entire being."

Silence lapsed again.

"I am not spelling this out for you," Rodimus stood, pulling Drift to his peds and shoving him out the door. "Come back when you're done being a sparkling. Go talk to her," the door shut, leaving Drift to walk back to his hab-unit.

****

You could feel your heart racing under your ribs. Thundering with each step you took, leading you to pause every few meters. 'This is so stupid. I can't do this.' you told yourself for the hundredth time.

"You alright there, Space Cadet?" you snapped your head behind you, spying Rodimus standing maybe a few feet away. When had he snuck up on you?

"I'm fine, just lost in my head." you face back towards Drifts unit, your confidence waning with each passing second.

"Is that another one of those valentines?" Rodimus squatted down to you your level, a servo reaching out to the special datapad you had placed on the hall floor.

"No," you dashed in front of his hand. "Nothing of interest, really. It's just like the one I gave to you and everybody else."

"And I suppose the box next to it is nothing too," you took a large step to the right, standing between the white and red wrapped box you had next to the Data-pad, before sharing a small, shy smile with the co-captain.

"It's- it's nothing." your voice was softer than you wanted it to be. The smug look on Rodimus' face told you he didn't buy it. "I wanted to give a gift to someone, and if I was on Earth, I would give a special someone candy. I found out Cybertronians can eat energon candies, and I bought a crystal of it as a gift. But it's stupid. He probably won't like it anyways."

You sunk your head closer to your shoulders. "Just giving him a poem and a piece of candy isn't going to make someone like him notice me." Your fingers worked at the hem of your shirt, rolling the worn material as a means to work out the lump you felt forming in your throat.

Rodimus held his servo out to you, a silent invitation to 'climb up' as he so often said. You took it, settling down into his palm. You watched as he carefully gathered your measly gift into his other servo and began walking in the direction you needed to go.

"So, you like this mech, and you're worried he doesn't like you." You nod. "Who is it?"

"I'd rather not say."

"It's not Ultra Magnus, is it?" You snap a playful glare at your friend. "I just needed to know, I'd still support you, but I won't be thrilled."

"No, it's not Magnus." you heard his vent of relief. Thundering footsteps filled the hall as Rodimus carried you farther a small way.

"so…"

"It- I, Drift," you whispered. "It's for Drift." You were thankful Rodimus didn't outright laugh. He did his best to stay composed. You could feel it in the way his digits curled for a moment, him gasping for air as he tried to talk.

"You think, he- you dont realize-" giggles filled the space between each attempted sentence.

"Yes, I like Drift. Go on, get it out. The little silly human is in love with a bot who probably couldn't care less, who's so far out of her league it's embarrassing." The lump in your throat returned, this time accompanied by a burning feeling behind your eyes. You took a few calming breaths, refusing to cry in such a frustrating situation.

"Oh stars, you're hopeless." Rodimus was smiling, oblivious to your emotional turmoil or not caring about it. "Trust me," he lifted you level with his politics, "He'll be thrilled."

***** Drift sat in his hab-unit, wondering how he could use this Valentine's day thing to his advantage. Find a way to earn some positive affection, and talk to you.

He was coming up blank; you were beloved. There was no way you would give up your time to talk to a bot who terrified you. If only he knew a way to quell your fear and maybe show that he wasn't such a bad bot. Drift heard his door open but didn't turn from his desk. His EM field told him it was Rodimus.

"Yo." Rodimus walks over to Drift, and before he can turn, his friend grips the closest servo to him. Drift feels you more than sees you, as you're practically tossed into his servo. His optics widen monetarily, and he throws his other servo around you, desperately trying to keep you from falling.

You have his full attention, so much so that the sound of Rodimus putting your gift down on Drift's desk before walking out hardly registers in his audials. Rodimus' smug "You'll thank me later" rings aloud and as the door slides shut behind him.

Drift cautiously checks you over for injuries. Slowly you roll over, sitting up and trying to look up into Drift's optics.

Your eyes can barely go past his chassis.

"Are you alright?" Drift questions. His optics take over you again, first your body, then your aura.

"Hi Drift, I'm alright" you raise your hand in a little wave, you sound a little frightened, and he watches as your body tenses. "I'm sorry for-uh- barging in like this. But I wanted to bring you a valentines gift." you waved your hand to the small offering on the desk beside him. "It's been delivered, so I'll stop bothering you now, I'm so sorry to have-"

"You are not bothering me," he smiles down at you. You're nervous; that much is plain to see. He turns his attention to your gift. While the box interests him, he takes the datapad first.

"Roses are red, And you are kind. I hold you in my heart, always on my mind."

He watches from the corner of his optics as you become red, the color complimenting the flustered pink in your aura.

"The poem is beautiful," he smiles, but you don't look at him in the optic. He puts down the pad and reaches for the box. The lid removes easily, and he is touched by the piece of energon candy you had inside.

"Thank you for my gifts, though I will say I'm surprised you gave me one," your eyes snapped to his optics wide and hurt.

"Why, you're my friend." Your question was soft, so quiet should he had been organic, he wouldn't have heard it.

"You're frightened of me, so I didnt think you would take the time to make me a gift."

"I'm not frightened of you," your hand reached our reassuringly to one of the digits around you, "What gave you that impression?"

Drift listed the clues he had gathered over the few months you'd been aboard, noting that with each one, a look of guilt took form over your face.

"Drift- I-I am not afraid of you," you stood abruptly, hopping from his hand to his desk "do you know what valentine's day is all about on earth?"

"It's about showing your affection to those in your life," your smile made his spark hum. It was soft, there was fear, but he focused in closer and saw in your aura; it wasn't a fear of him.

"Correct, but only half correct. It's also about telling people who don't know you lo-" you took a breath. "Some humans use this day to confess their love for another person." He could see the struggle you had to keep your eyes at his optics. "Those things I did, the ones that made you think I was scared of you, I did them because I was nervous. I really like you Drift, I would go as far as to say love, but I'm frightened at what you'll do, what you'll think."

He brought his servo to you again, two digits brushing your cheek and your hair. "If I were human, and it was Valentine's day, what should I do to quell your fears? How am I supposed to respond if I feel the same way about you?"

You leaned into his digits, your body relaxing from a tension he hadn't realized you had been holding in.

"You just did."

#valentines requests #drift x reader #mtmte drift #Transformers #transformers x reader

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reidingandwriting · 3 years

Text

Chapter Three: “Your Obedient Servant”

“You’ve kept me from the room where it happens for the last time.”

Word count: ~2450 words

Warnings: Shitty parent, verbal abuse from mother, language, bullying, brief mention of alcohol, mention of guns, implied murder, typical Criminal Minds-esque details towards the murder but nothing graphic.

Characters mentioned: Neutral!Reader, Jennifer “JJ” Jareau, Aaron Hotchner

Original characters: Reader’s mother and father, Este and her family, Lara, Andrew Walker, and Abby.

Mentions of: David Rossi, Erin Strauss, and Penelope Garcia

A/N: And here we are! Chapter three! I think I have marked all warnings but if there are any I’ve missed, please feel free to let me know! As always, feedback is always appreciated. This chapter is kind of background of reader focused and I’m so sorry for that. I hope y’all can enjoy anyways and enjoy the turn made towards bringing everyone in. Next chapter will fully bring the team in and I’m excited! That’s enough out of me, enjoy the chapter!

Previous chapter

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Eight years old…

“What in fresh hell are you doing?” A voice came from your doorway, one that belonged to your mother. You didn’t look up from where you laid on the floor, a colored pencil in your hand and a coloring book was spread out in front of you. Your room was illuminated by the lamp on your bedside table, it being well past your bedtime.

“Coloring. Couldn’t sleep.” Footsteps got louder as your mother approached and you flinched as she snatched the book up.

“What time is your bedtime?”

“Eight-thirty.” She cleared her throat. “Ma’am.”

“And it’s midnight. So your ass should be where?”

“But I wasn’t making any noise.” Your eyes met your mother’s and her harsh glare made you look back down. “In bed.”

“That’s right.” She grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet, and you tried not to wince. “If I come check on you and catch you out of this bed again, you’re gonna be in so much trouble, kid.”

“But what if I can’t sleep?” You asked as you climbed back into your bed.

“You’ll fall asleep eventually.” Your mother turned off your lamp, the warm glow of the room now being replaced by total darkness. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Your mother walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. You listened for a minute to make sure she was really in bed before you pulled your stuffed animal to your chest and screwed your eyes shut.

“Unfortunately.”

Sixteen years old…

“Happy birthday, kiddo. The big sixteen.” You smiled as you held your phone, sat on the bench outside of school as you waited for your mom to pick you up. Your dad was on the other end of the phone, and you had to admit you missed him. “Still up for your visit this weekend?”

“Are you? You pulled a Mom and bailed on me last time.” Your words could sound harsh to anyone passing by, but there was no malice behind them, just a teasing smile. And you could practically hear your dad rolling his eyes.

“Brat.”

“Yours truly.”

“I promise, nothing will stop me from seeing you this weekend. It’s not every day your only child turns sixteen.” A sigh from the other end makes your heart clench. “I miss you, kid.”

“I miss you too, Dad. I can’t wait to see you.” “Ditto.” Muffled voices were heard in the background before your dad spoke again. “I have to go, but I expect to hear all about your birthday extravaganza Saturday.”

“You mean my trip to the bookstore with Este and dinner with her family? Mom’s too busy with her new fu-”

“Uh uh. It may be true, but don’t finish that sentence.” You could hear the smile in your dad’s voice, mixed with irritation. “I love you, sunshine.”

“I love you, Dad. See you Saturday.”

“See you then.” You hung up and tucked your phone into your pocket, opening the book that sat in your lap to read as you waited for your mom to pick you up from school.

You were delved deep into your book, the sound of the athletes practicing in the nearby fields fading into silence as you let yourself become entranced in your book. You didn’t notice the looming shadow of Lara standing over you.

“Well, thanks, Y/L/N! I’ve been looking for a new book.” You jumped when you heard her voice. She snatched the book from your hands and you reached for it, but she was quicker.

“Give it back!”

“Really? David Rossi?” Lara scoffed and tossed the book over her shoulder where it landed in a pile of mud by the sidewalk we were on. “Whoops.” Lara walked past you, her shoulder knocking harshly into yours. “It’s too easy with them.” Lara said to herself and you ran to your book, and your eyes watered as you knelt down to pick it up, the book being covered in mud.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.” You whispered to yourself as you held the book and tried your best to wipe the mud off it. You sighed in resignation and walked to the trash can a few feet away and set the book in. You were going to the bookstore tomorrow, you could replace it then.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when a car honked and you looked up, noticing your mother’s car. “Come on, we’ve got places to be.” Your mother yelled from the open window and you nodded.

“Coming.” You called out and jogged over to the car, throwing your backpack into the backseat before you got into the passenger seat.

“What’s wrong with you?” She gestured to your red eyes before she noticed your dirty hands. “Gross, how old are you?” She slapped the back of your head and you digged for napkins in the glove compartment while apologizing repeatedly.

“I’m sorry. Lara threw my book in the mud and I tried to save it.”

“Those were weird books anyways. She did you a favor.”

Twenty-two years old…

“Look at our college graduate, Jess.” Este’s father, Phil, smiled from the head of the table. “Look out, world, you’re not prepared.”

“I will not be taking over the world until Y/N is. They still have one year to finish their master’s degree. So I’m taking a gap year. Maybe I’ll go husband hunting.”

“Or, you know, do something that’ll look better on your job applications.” Este’s sister deadpanned.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You nudged Este with your foot and gave her a playful warning look. Este stuck her tongue out at you and you mirrored her expression.

“I wish Y/N would have majored in the same thing as you, Este.” Not even fifteen words out of your mother and the whole atmosphere was brought down. Why couldn’t she be with Joe? Jonah? J-something. “Instead of aiming for the FBI, where you’re not even guaranteed a job.”

“Which is why I majored in criminology. Minored in digital forensics. And I’m earning my masters in forensic psychology.” You responded, not sparing her a glance.

“And if you still don’t-”

“I think my credentials will be impressive regardless.” You paused as the waitress stopped by, setting everyone’s plates down. You thanked her as she left, before looking at your mother. “Even if I don’t immediately get offered a job, I don’t mind. I can work my way to the FBI. I don’t get bored of something within a month.” Bella’s eyes widened and Este smirked to herself as she took a sip of her drink.

“I would sure hope not! College would have been a bad idea if you couldn’t work at something for a month.” Jessica, Este’s mother, tried to joke but your mother was relentless.

“I hope you fix your personality before you apply or they’ll never let you in through the door.”

“You don’t like it? I learned from you.” Your mother stood from her chair, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“I’m done.”

“Drive safe.” You called out to your mother’s retreating form and rolled your eyes as you turned to Este. “Drinks?”

“Drinks.”

Twenty-five years old…

“So, you’re about halfway done with your training at the Academy.” You sat across from your field counselor, Abby. “How have things been?”

“Andrew and I had some… creative differences with firearms training.”

“Creative differences?” Abby asked and you thought back to the day.

You had missed the vital shots multiple times, and you and Andrew both were getting irritated at each other. What was meant to be motivating turned snarky, which had started to turn condescending. You started off getting close to your vitals, and with each negative comment, your concentration turned to frustration which led to further off shots.

“If you could make these three shots so I can leave, that would be great. Come on, how are you going to ace rifle training but not handgun? I might as well talk to our program director and tell her your future in the Academy and FBI is a deadend. But if she ever needs a sharp-shooter…” And something snapped inside you, and you shot the five targets in front of you perfectly. Alternating between head and chest shots, straight in the middle. Bullseyes. You turned to face Andrew, walked towards him and set your gun in his hand.

“You may leave now.” You walked towards the doors of the firing range and called out. “See you tomorrow.”

“I see.” There was a hint of a smirk on her face as she spoke. “You know you can’t let people get to you like he did. It may have benefitted you this time, but there will come a time where you’ll reach your breaking point and lose your temper at your superior and risk your job.”

“You know about my parents, it’s kind of genetic.” You sighed. “But I will work on it. I know I need to.”

“Good. And I’ll have a word with Andrew about his motivational methods.” You let out a laugh before your session continued.

Thirty-one years old…

You sat in Hotch’s office and your body language screamed ‘angry.’ Your arms were crossed over your chest, your foot tapped against the floor, and if that wasn’t enough, the saying if looks could kill truly applied to you right now. If looks could kill, Aaron Hotchner would be a pile of dust in his chair. But like usual, Hotch’s body language was as usual. Professional, stoic, cold. He’d warmed up to the rest of the team, surprising you that he wasn’t truly emotionless after all. But that persona never came out around you. All that came out was indifference at best. Disapproval at worst, often paired with anger. Disappointment. That’s all you’d ever be, huh?

You had been called to Hotch’s office after you got back from your latest case. You’d never seen Hotch as mad as he was then. To anyone else, it might seem like he got mad because he cared about you and your wellbeing. But that was not the case today. You didn’t follow his orders, and now you were to pay the consequences.

“I am slow to anger, but I toe the line as I think about the effects of your choices on the team. I look back on where we failed, but in every place I checked, the only common thread?”

“Let me guess, me?” You interrupted.

“Your disrespect.” Hotch narrowed his eyes at you.

“You call me inexperienced, a danger to the team.” You leaned forward as you began to speak.

“Agent, if you’ve got something to say-” You raised your hand, cutting him off.

“Name a time and place, face to face. Then we can really talk.” You rested your hands on his desk, matching the expression he was giving you.

“That is enough, Agent Y/L/N.” Hotch spoke after a minute of your stare-down, and you settled back into your seat.

“I’m just an agent, trying to do my best for our team. I don’t want to fight but I won’t apologize for doing what I believe was right.”

“Careful, Y/N, or it’ll be the end of your career at the BAU. Not mine.”

“I won’t apologize for my actions, if that’s what you’re looking for.” You shrugged.

“Then be prepared to meet with me and Strauss tomorrow morning to discuss your placement on this team.” Hotch leaned back in his chair.

“Are you fucking serious? Every agent on this team has gone against orders. Even you have given the middle finger to direct orders several times. I make one call that goes against your orders, one that allows us to save the hostage and take in the unsub, and now you’re threatening my career?” You scoffed and looked your boss in the eyes as you stood up. “Unbelievable.”

“Nine sharp, agent.” Hotch kept eye contact with you as he spoke.

“Oh, I have the honor to be your obedient servant, sir.” You turned on your heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door as you left.

Today…

You sat outside Andrew Walter’s house, lying in wait. Andrew lived in Baltimore now, having quit his job to work at a local FBI field office. You think a federal agent would have been more private about his life; it didn’t take Penelope Garcia to figure out where he worked. Where he lived. You had been waiting for the perfect moment to revisit him, and now you had it. Now was all waiting for the window of opportunity to hit. The window to open just enough for you to seize your chance and show him what all you had become since you graduated from the Academy.

The last light flickered off in his home and you looked down the street. No cars moving, no sounds of laughter or conversations could be heard from your spot. It was almost eerily silent, but there was a rush of an unknown emotion flooding through you. You tucked your gun into your waistband, snapping your gloves into place, and adjusting your hood over your hat. You got out of your car and walked up to the house, a smirk on your face.

---

“Come in.” Hotch glanced up from his paperwork, JJ standing in his doorway.

“I know we don’t typically take cases only involving one person.” JJ said as she walked over to Hotch’s desk. “The detective thinks there is a possibility it could be related to the Fairfax murder.”

“And do you?” Hotch held his hand out for the file and JJ set it in his hand before taking a seat.

“The possibility is there, but the similarities are basic. Both victims were men who died by gunshots. But our Fairfax victim was married, this guy is single. And in Baltimore. There’s a bit of distance between the two cities, but definitely a doable drive.”

“We’ve seen further.” Hotch opened the file and his brows furrowed. “And he died by gunshot?”

“There was some blunt force trauma involved, but the M.E. says the cause of death was the gunshot wound. All the other injuries were sustained antemortem.”

“Personal?”

“Or was our unsub physically incapable of subduing him before injuring him?” A beat of silence.

“Everyone else is here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We have a case.”

Taglist: @spideyspeaches @ssa-sugar-tits @willowsbendtothewind-blog @lazy-bird-fanfics @spencerhotchner @lolychu @ajeff855 @averyhotchner @meowiemari @liagzs @herecomesthewriterwitch @colorful-quinn @haylaansmi @theroyalsaikou @boring-yet-creatively-odd @drreidsconverse @notyourcupofteax @catherine-nelson @reids-mismatchedsocks @lieswithoutfairytales @devilswaldorf @panhoeofmanyfandoms @sassiest-politician @yoshigguk @httpeacewitch @feedthemadness-sweetie 🤍 Taglist and requests are OPEN, send an ask/message/whatever makes you comfortable to be added or send a request :))

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

Not Necessarily a Virtue

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2021 Practical Magic AU

There hadn’t been a plan when Obi picked up the phone.

All it had taken was one rogue text-- another case assigned to his social worker, one that was enough of an emergency that it his behavioral issues seem tame in comparison. Her chair rattles when she stans, its plastic back hitting the filing cabinets with a metallic tang, but her hands tremble more.

“This will be just a minute,” she says, smile plastered tight to her face. And then she leaves him there alone, his file open on her desk, flaws left out for the world to see.

It doesn’t bothered him. There’s no point, not when he already knows: he’s trouble with a capital-T, each failed family drawing him closer and closer to being unplaceable. Some people have a face only a mother could love, but Obi-- Obi has that for his personality. Though considering how each of his six almost-moms signed him away with a sigh of relief, walking out the plate glass doors without even a glance back, maybe he has the sort of personality that makes people reconsider whether they could be a mother.

So here he is again, freshly abandoned, back in the sterile halls of social services for the seventh time without a place to call home. He’s not even twelve.

Not that these people aren’t trying to change that-- he’s not some cat left at the shelter, free to a good home. Unless Kerry or Janine or the girl at the desk he didn’t get to read the name tag of wanted to sleep on their couch, they have to find someone to take him for the night. And he knows from experience, there’s always a family that believes they can change him. A young couple who thought all problem children needed was just a little extra love. By the time Kerry came back, there’d be good news waiting, a miracle crafted by three people who didn’t want to miss the Masked Singer finale. They’d pack him into the back of a car and ship him off to a new place to fail. Because no matter how many homes they tried to make for him, it’d never change how he felt.

Obi had tried, at first. He was just a little kid, wanting to be loved, but every home he went to itched like hives in his head, a constant buzz that set his teeth on edge and made him do anything, try anything to leave. He belonged somewhere else, somewhere not here, and he knew it like he knew Kerry’s other case had overdosed on a bottle of sleeping pills in his foster mother’s cabinet-- with an inexplicable certainty.

He waits thirty seconds after she leaves before he slides off the the plastic seat she’d put him in. They love these things, oddly shaped and in primary colors that make the little kids giddy, but Obi hates them. He’s undersized, and putting him in these kiddie rooms always makes people treat him like he’s eight instead of eleven, asking him about Blue’s Clues.

But that’s not why he gets up, not entirely. There’s a buzzing in the back of his brain, a knowing, and it makes him stand, his hand straying to the glass door. He can’t see anything outside, at least not anything besides more kiddie chairs and offices, but he steps out nonetheless. He steps out and, unerringly, turns to face the girl waiting for him down the hall.

“It’s you.” Her tawny hair stresses the elastic she’s trapped it in, too thick. It’s not one of those hair ones either, but one of those thick rubber bands they use on the produce in grocery store. It hurts; he knows because it’s common sense, but also because he just...Knows. Their eyes meet, and even though he doesn’t her name, they’ve known each other forever.

His mouth is dry when he asks, “Do you know me?”

“I saw you in a dream.” She takes a step toward him, her sneakers scuffed and worn, just like his. “You’re Obi. I’m Torou.”

He doesn’t know this girl. There’s a hundred ways she could get his name; one of them is sitting on a desk behind him right now. But when she looks up at him with eyes he’s only ever seen in the mirror, he holds out his hand. “Come here.”

His heart pounds with each mincing squeak of her sneakers on the tile. She’s taking too long and she’s coming too fast; each terrible second convinces him he’s making a mistake at the same time he’s doing what he was always meant to do. By the time she slips her hand into his, he’s trembling, but it doesn’t matter because they both are and this--

This is right. And he knows exactly what to do.

It’s holding her hand that he picks up the phone. He fucks it up the first time-- he gets that gross digital buzz before he notices the sticker beneath the speaker, informing him 9 dials out-- but the second one his fingers guide him, releasing the number he has no reason to know. A number he has no reason to believe will work, that could have just come from the weird recesses of his mind but--

But he’s not surprised when a man picks up. “Who is this? Do you know what time--?”

“We’re here,” Obi says, and it shouldn’t be enough, but it is. “Come pick us up.”

A specter arrives on the front walk at noon.

Obi knows by the hush in the office. Or really the weight of it-- it’s been quiet like this since last night, since he and Torou sat down on the big bean bag couch in the waiting room, and Obi announced they wouldn’t be letting go. His case worker had crouched in front of them, that sweet smile plastered to her lips, and told him that they’d only have to be separated for a night. But he’d known-- the way he always did-- that every word was a lie. His fingers tightened in her grip, narrowing his eyes until the woman shivered, and that was that.

Kerry stayed with them, of course; she’d slept in her office, under a blanket it’s clear she’s never used and had only just discovered wasn’t comfortable no matter how many Sesame Street characters were on it. They’d been tucked under another by a younger girl with trembling hands, her eyes darting between them as she smoothed out its edges. He’d heard them through the walls this morning while the rest of the office filtered in-- government buildings like this were always cutting corners, leaving things like this paper thin, stuff that would go up like tissue in a fire.

Do you think they’re twins? one asked. Trembling hands, he guesses, since her voice does as well, like a chihuahua in a sweater. I’ve heard about this happening with twins. They look and just know.

Can’t be, we have their birth certificates, says another. Kerry, probably; she might be a liar, but she’s one of the only people in this place that has her head screwed on right, too. Two different sets of parents.

And the man they called last night? This one is stern; their manager maybe. He’s not really sure how this all works; he’s not even twelve, and he can only just know so much. Who is he?

There’s a heavy pause. I...I don’t know.

So when he arrives, dressed like an undertaker and holding an umbrella beneath the bright New Mexico sky, the whole place goes quiet. When he walks it’s stiff, like it took a hundred volts to get him up off the table and he’s only just gotten used to the idea. Obi casts a look down at Torou, at where her hand is white knuckled in his, and thinks about how he knows things, and wonders just what she might be able to do.

The man enters, umbrella folding in a single neat motion, before he says. “I am Lata Forenzo. I believe you have my...niblings.”

Niblings, Obi learns, is like siblings, only sideways.

“It was a simplification,” Lata says, his voice a deep, hesitant gravel. He casts a speculative look at the taxi driver, adjusting the gloves on his hands. “Niece and nephew is an unwieldy phrase, and time, after all, is of the essence.”

“Is it?” Torou’s eyes are wide, and for the first time since last night, her hand leaves his, gripping on to the cloth at Lata’s knee. “Is there something after us? Those bugs, they’re not--”

“No.” Obi’s known his uncle for barely more than a half hour, but he knows he isn’t a tactile person. Even still, Lata looks down at Torou, his not-gold eyes somehow softer, and puts two fingers over the bones at the back of her hand. “But it is time to bring you home.”

Home is an island. It takes the whole night to fly in, and when they land the sun is just barely scratching the sky. Even still, there’s no stopping; Lata bundles them straight into a cab, shushing them before they can make much more than a peep.

“We’ll be home soon,” he says, and the next time he wakes them, salt stings Obi’s nose, and he’s being carried over a threshold.

“Are we here?” he slurs. The house is weird-- angular, really, with a hall so narrow he could kick out a leg and stop them up like a cork. He nearly does, just to be cussed, but he catches Torou still wrapped up in her blanket, lolling on the couch, and says instead, “Can you let me down?”

Lata hesitates, fingers stiff where they wrap around his knees and shoulders, but he nods.

Obi’s feet-- just wearing socks now, somehow-- press on the floor, and he knows: he’s home.

“Oh,” he breathes, hands flying out to steady himself. “Oh.”

When he looks up, Torou’s eyes meet his, round and wide. “I felt that.”

Her own feet swing down-- bare-- and the moment she touches the wide old planks--

“Oh.” Lata braces himself against the wall, the sound bitter on his lips. “So it’s true. There will always be two.”

They aren’t his words, Obi knows, but they’re important. They’ve got that feel, the same as when Torou said she dreamed of him. The sort that are going to be life-changing, one way or another.

But Obi’s had enough of that today. Enough of it for a lifetime. He glances over at Torou, and she nods. “Can we go outside?”

Lata blinks, eyes pulling from the wallpaper to fix on him. After a long moment, he says, “You know where the door is.”

Obi does, somehow, and when he opens it--

It’s paradise.

Home has rules too, loads of them. It’s quiet time from nine to eight, though Lata doesn’t much care if they’re sleeping, so long as they’re in bed. Teeth have to be brushed twice a day-- he’d glowered when Obi said he had good teeth and only needed the once, standing over him for a week morning and night to see the rule stuck. There’s only one dessert after dinner; Obi balked at that one, until he’d learned that a limit on quantity wasn’t the same thing as size. He and Torou find three old sundae dishes in the cabinet and pile them high with ice cream and every topping they can find, and when they slap Lata’s down in front of him, cheeks bulging with their own towers of sweets, all he’d does is give them that small, reluctant twitch of a smile and dig in.

They have to make their beds and pick up after themselves-- this house has treated us well, Lata tells them, it’s only right we take care of it in return-- and they have to tell him if they plan to play in the yard; but in return their sheets are always clean, and dinner’s promptly at six. When they come back in, sweaty and exhausted from the summer heat, there’s always a bowl of fruit waiting for them and cold drinks.

He’d known, in the way he always does, that this couldn’t last. So when summer’s heat began to cool, he’s not surprised to see Lata waiting on for them on the veranda, mouth pulled into an even grimmer line.

“It’s time,” he says, “for a Family Meeting.”

“School,” Lata says with the sort of relish and derision only a professor like him can summon up, “is starting. Which means there are new rules.”

Fingers brush at Obi’s, and when he reaches out, Torou’s fingers knit in his. He knows what rules these will be-- his parents had them to, the only ones they’d ever made. His mother had gotten down on her knees the night before kindergarten, nails digging into his shoulders, and used a voice so dark, so unlike her, he’d dreamed of button eyes staring into his for a week. His father had tossed out their Coraline DVD after that.

“Forenzos,” Lata starts, already sounding weary, “look after each other. So you’ll walk together, both ways, and if one of you gets into trouble--” he fixes them both with a stern look-- “I expect both of you to run.”

Obi stares. “What?”

“You’ll come back right after school, unless we have previously discussed plans,” Lata continues. “You’re far too young for...cellular phones, so I expect that if you make plans with friends, you will discuss them with me the night previous, or you will come home first and ask permission. Not,” he murmurs, just barely audible, “that I expect you’ll have much trouble with that.”

“Is that...” Obi’s jaw works. “Is that all?”

“I expect you to keep up your grades.” Lata’s brow furrows, taking them in, as if he’d never once questioned whether or not they would be stellar students. As if most people don’t look at the both of them and see future high school flunk outs. “If they are slipping, I’m afraid I’ll have to limit your free time until we are able to bring them back to an acceptable level. Homework is to be done at the table, and once you are done, your time is yours until dinner.”

Torou’s hand squeezes his. “We?”

Lata blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You said ‘we.’“ She clear her throat, eyelashes fluttering with nerves. “If our grades are bad, you said we would, uh, fix them.”

“Of course.” His mouth pulls at the corners, annoyed. “How could I possibly ask you to rectify such a thing on your own? You’re already doing the best you can, if you still struggle, then it’s clearly something we both-- oh my,” he murmurs mildly, “she’s leaking.”

“Sorry,” she sobs, pink burning on her cheeks, the way it never did on his. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” Lata flails out, yanking a tissue from the box, shoving it into her hand. “I just...hope that you find this all fair. I was always quite good at school, but my sisters--” he glances at them, wary-- “varied. I hope I can only...encourage you to your best.”

“But what about...” Obi snaps his teeth around the words. If he doesn’t ask, then it won’t become a rule, and his uncle can’t be disappointed when he breaks it.

The pictures on the wall prove that they’re family, that Lata truly is his mom’s brother, even if they don’t share much more than a hair color. But Obi’s never seen it, the way he does in pictures of Torou’s mom, where there’s a flick of the hand or a cock of a hip that says they spent their childhood together, inextricably intertwined forever in ways they would never understand.

But Lata raises a brow now, and he sees it, that small thread that ties him to his mom, that says brother. “About...?”

“The other stuff,” Torou blurts out, coughing down a sniff. “He wants to know what we...”

Her words peter out too, like she can’t figure out what to do with them. He can’t stop knowing, and she can’t stop dreaming, and the thought of having to pretend they can is...tiring this time, in a way it never was in the system.

His mouth wraps around the words with a curious sort of wonder. “Other stuff?”

“You know,” she mutters, so small. “The weird stuff.”

Lata jolts in his chair, spine as straight as a poker. His hands press flat against his knees, and when he looks at them, the gray in his eyes in thunderous.

“This is the most important rule,” he tells them, voice oddly resonant, “you must follow it. Promise me.”

Obi’s heart sinks into his stomach, but he nods, fingers squeezing Torou’s tighter.

Lata’s hand presses heavy on his shoulder, leather flexing over cotton. “Don’t ever hide yourselves. Not for anything. Not for anyone.” Obi dares to look up, and Lata’s gaze is waiting to catch him. “Being...normal is not necessarily a virtue. There is no shame in being who you are, none at all.”

Or what you are, he doesn’t say, but his eyes do, loud and clear. He doesn’t say what that is either, but--

Obi knows. Just like he always does.

And if he didn’t, well-- he would have found out soon enough.

It’s a small island; small enough that K-12 are all squeezed into one school, though Lata tells them that by the time they go to senior high, they might have built another. It’s still not small enough for Torou and him to be in the same class, so he drops her off at the door with promises to find her at lunch and moseys down to his own. It puts him a little behind schedule, the school bell ringing on his heels, and when he steps in--

The room goes silent. Twenty pairs of eyes stare at him, round and wide, not a single person daring to do much more than breathe.

“Forenzo,” the teacher says, faint. “You must be...the Forenzo boy.”

“Yeah.” He grips at his shoulder. “Obi.”

“You can take your seat...at the back,” she says, before hurrying to the board, eager to put her back to him.

“I thought my mom said all the Forenzos died,” a boy whispers as he passes. “Except the old man, of course.”

“No, they just left,” says the one next to them. “Chased out. Because they’re, you know...”

Obi does; he always had, even before he had a word for it.

“I don’t think a boy can be a witch,” a girl says, thoughtless and thoughtful at the same time. “They’re wizards, or something.”

“Warlocks,” scoffs another. “Don’t you know anything? And they do blood magic with little girls--”

Obi grits his teeth, eyes forward. There’s two empty chairs in the back, one in the corner by the window, and the other next to it, and he steers toward that one-- window seats always get him in trouble--

And the boy next to it scoots away, fear bright in his eyes. Obi looks back at the teacher, but she’s writing her name on the board real slow, like she’s hoping this might solve itself.

Fine, he can take a hint. He takes the window, sliding in behind the desk. The girl in front of him scoots forward too, making sure her chair doesn’t touch his desktop, and he sighs. At least they’re all getting this out of the way first.

A bag drops, right next to his seat.

“Ms Kino!” There’s a girl there, smaller than everyone else, though her voice makes her twice as tall. In the morning sun, her hair burns bright like the horizon. “Can I change my seat?”

“Shirayuki?” The teacher blinks back at them, and Obi could swear she breaks into a cold sweat. “Shirayuki, I’m not sure that’s--”

“I can’t see the board from over there,” she says, every syllable digging in its heels. “There’s glare. Because I’m so small.”

Ms Kino squints back at her, and really-- there’s no denying how small she is, at least a head below Obi and he’s nothing to write home about either. “If you’re sure...”

“Great.” She drops into her seat with a thump as loud as thunder, setting out her notebook and pencil with the sort of purposeful efficiency that says there’s no doubt she’s here to stay.

Obi slips his out of his backpack too, so quiet so the other kids will stop looking at him like he’s going to set the place on fire, but he hears, “You’re new, right?”

He looks down, and there’s the girl, smiling across the aisle. “Yeah. I’m--”

“Obi, I heard.” She leans toward him. “I’m--”

“Shirayuki.” His mouth twitches. “I also heard.”

Her smile stretches towards a grin. “You know, Ms Kino likes group projects.”

He blinks. “Does she?”

She nods. “Would you like a partner?”

“She hasn’t assigned one yet,” he says, a little lost.

“She will,” this Shirayuki says, confident. The way he is, when he knows.

He nods, slow. “All right, so for the next one.”

“To start.” She fixes him with a look he can’t get out from under. “Are you eating lunch with someone?”

“Ah, yeah.” He feels guilty about it now, for some reason. “My um. Cousin.”

She brightens. “Great. I’ll show you guys the best place to sit.”

He’s been adopted, he realizes, like the way the cats around the house aren’t. And this girl means to keep him.

For once in his very short life, Obi doesn’t mind knowing. Just like he always does.

#obiyukibingo21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #practical magic au #ans #there is so much to be written for this fic and i desperately want to write all of it #like honestly consider this a teaser for a fic i COULD write #one that would involve shirayuki obi and torou being childhood friends #and obi casting a spell of forgetting #and later shirayuki finding obi and torou again #after they have possibly murdered the resurrected then killed again torou's ex #and obi trying to hide that secret at the same time he's trying to keep shirayuki from remembering #while also desperately wanting her to remember because sure this Zen guy seems rich and nice but ALSO MAYBE YOU COULD LOVE ME???#like the notes i have for this potential multichap are CRAZY i wish to UNLEASH them #also LATA/GARRACK #and also Lata ruminating on love and loss and the complicatedness of inherited trauma #but uhhhhh with magic you know how it be

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xumos-hoe · 4 years

Note

Mlqc boys jealous of boys flirting with Mc

Mmm hot guys fighting over you😌✨💅 hope you enjoy babe❤️

MLQC crew react to MC getting flirted with

~~~~~~~~

Victor

It happened to be one of LFG’s top executives, who’d attended a conference regarding the annual financial reports

These type of things didn’t concern you, but if Victor hadn’t promised you a dinner date afterwards, you wouldn’t have been waiting in the lobby until the meeting wrapped up.

A swarm of finely dressed businessmen flooded the exit of the conference room—led by none other than the man you were waiting for; marching forward with so much dignity and authority, no one in their right mind could mistake this man as anything besides the CEO.

You raised your hand to wave him over, only to lower it slowly when you realized he was already in deep conversation with someone (other than Goldman).

Goldman was trying his best to keep up with the duo, furiously scratching notes.

The third man was someone that blended in with the environment perfectly—tailored suit, sleek shoes that glimmered with every step, and a handsome face to top it all off (obviously not as handsome as Vic’s but a close second)

It seemed Victor was already aware of your presence because he’s begun to walk towards your exact direction, both Goldman and the stranger following suit.

Goldman is the first to give you a meek greeting, but says nothing more. The conversation reaches a lull as soon all three men have reached you.

“We’ll discuss this in greater depth at the next briefing, but for now, I believe I’m needed elsewhere.”

He makes a subtle gesture towards you, catching the attention of both men—especially the stranger who does a quick double-take when he glances at you.

The stranger’s gaze flitters between you and Victor before landing on you with an out-stretched hand.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

The attractive smile on his face is anything but welcoming. In fact, it puts you off a bit, but you return the gesture anyway

“Ah! I don’t actually work—”

Victor cuts you off swiftly, saving you from the embarrassment of explaining your position.

“MC is the president of a production company LFG is currently funding.“

Remembrance flickers in the man’s eyes. “That must mean you’re the producer of Miracle Finder!”

Before you can say anything more, he takes your hand in his and grins.

“I’ve been a fanatic of your show since I was young—you have no idea how much it means to finally meet you.”

He pauses briefly, taking a few seconds to stare at your more intensely than earlier, before adding: “I didn’t realize the producer of Miracle Finder was such a beautiful, young woman.”

Though you don’t see it, because the stranger has practically blocked Victor from your view—your boyfriend’s perpetually stone-cold expression has hardened into displeasure and annoyance.

And Goldman is looking nervous as fuck.

To say the man’s comments and enthusiasm are uncomfortable is an understatement, but you can’t seem to do more than politely continue to shake his hand and smile.

You almost say something before an arm snakes around your waist and tugs you to Victor’s side.

The sheer strength of his grip gives you absolutely no reason to question his sudden movements.

“And this ‘beautiful woman’ and I were just about to head out for dinner together.”

Victor’s voice dips an octave deeper as it leans close to your ear:

“Weren’t we, MC?”

The blush in your face practically speaks for itself—you nod slowly before Victor calls over his shoulder.

“Goldman, cancel the rest of the today’s agenda.” He gives your side a little squeeze, before dipping down to press a sound kiss to your lips.

“I intend on spending the rest of my day with my partner.”

And suddenly, the two of you are stalking past Goldmab and the executive without another word—thoroughly stomping on the man’s pride along the way.

You don’t need to see it for yourself to know the color has drained from every inch of the his face and he’ll probably be standing in place for a long while...

But a certain something about Victor’s actions felt empowering—the satisfaction that you managed to make one of the most powerful men in the country jealous.

Rather than feel embarrassed, you revel in the sweet feeling and lean into his grasp with every intention to fulfill your boyfriend’s wish of spending the day with you.

Lucien

Whenever jealousy entered the equation, it was typically you who was feeling jealous over the fact that your boyfriend was a natural chick-magnet.

This was the first instance it had ever gone differently, though.

You didn’t care much for his lectures nor the students that attended—you fell asleep more often than you cared to admit and hoped he wouldn’t mind.

Maybe it was your appearance or clothing that had somehow fooled the red headed student beside into thinking you were also a student because he immediately takes that impression after seeing you for the first time.

You had felt a heavy gaze on you during the entire lecture—no doubt coming from the student beside you.

Towards the end of the lecture, just as Lucien was beginning to wrap up, you felt someone tap your arm with a pen.

You turned towards the source of the tapping to find that very student staring back at you fondly.

He slides a tiny piece of paper in your direction, containing a row of digits that spoke for itself.

Instead of accepting his number, you shook your head gently as to say ‘no, sorry’

And you think he’s understood, nodding to himself with a thin smile before taking back the paper. His gaze returns to the front of the room and says nothing more for the rest of the lecture.

6 o’ clock strikes and students begin to file out. You lose track of Lucien amongst the crowd, and rise up from your seat to look for him when an unfamiliar grip pulls you back.

“I haven’t seen you around campus before—are you a student?”

The arm belongs to the redheaded student. You meet his smiling gaze, to find that it feels so much colder than before.

“Ah, I’m sorry, but I’m in a bit of a rush...”

The smile on the student’s face is replaced with an impatient frown before he pulls out the same piece of paper from before.

“Aw, don’t be like that—what’s it gonna take to get a pretty girl’s number?”

You’re almost about to pull your arm back before a third voice interjects:

“For your information, Mr. Lee—she happens to be taken.”

Both you and the student turn to find Lucien observing the situation a few aisles away—but even distance cannot conceal the coldness in his gaze when it flickers towards the redhead: ‘Mr. Lee’

You’re stunned silent by how quickly Lucien makes it to your side, pulling you back himself before snaking a protective arm around your waist.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from touching my girlfriend—unless you’d rather have campus security interrupt next time.”

If the atmosphere hadn’t been so tense, you would’ve laughed at the expression on the student’s face the moment he made the connection between you and Lucien.

Pure, unadulterated shock and embarrassment.

The glimmer of superiority and danger in Lucien’s gaze juxtaposes the smile on his face as he stares the student down until he leaves the lecture hall entirely.

You breathe a sigh of relief and allow Lucien to walk you out afterwards—just before he pauses by a trash bin to discard of a familiar piece of paper.

As the paper glides to the bottom of the bin, Lucien’s grip on your waist tightens before he whispers something by your ear.

“I realized he was moving on you from the very beginning... If I could help it, butterfly, he’d never have the chance to lay a single finger on you.”

Kiro

You learned to live with Kiro’s favor in the public eye—which came with a barrage of fan girls and thirst tweets that used to bother you in the beginning of you and his’ relationship.

But you were long past that jealousy and learned to even take pride in your boyfriend’s popularity.

Kiro’s label arranged for a collaboration between him and another popular singer that you happened to be a fan of.

You were excited when Kiro first told you the news and begged him to bring you along to the recording studio for a chance to meet the star in person.

Unfortunately—Kiro would soon come to regret this decision as soon as the star seemed to be taking interest in you.

Besides Savin and Kiro’s execs, the nature of you and his’ relationship was relatively clandestine.

It was only expected that the star would also be under the impression the two of you were nothing but business partners.

The star was mostly laid-back and pleasant. But even after the starry-eyed pleasantries and introductions, he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but you.

“It’s pretty inspiring that you’re running a whole production company by yourself.”

You smile timidly as the star stared at you fondly—and all the while, Kiro is mentally seething.

Who the fuck gave pretty-boy the permission to talk to his girlfriend like that? And why’d you seem to be enjoying his company so much?

The final straw is the moment he dips down to whisper something in your ear, but the telltale pink in your face afterwards suggests that it was much more than friendly..

He steps out of the room to compose himself and grab a bottle of water, but when he returns, he’s greeted with the sore sight of the star’s arm around you shoulders.

“Do you happen to be seeing anyone? I doubt anyone as gorgeous as you is still single...”

The unease in your expression is a far-cry from all the excitement it held earlier. You seem to be tripping over words to tell this man that you’re actually very taken without revealing your relationship with Kiro.

And luckily—you don’t need to struggle any longer, because a hopeful hand smacks away the one currently violating your personal space.

“—And too bad she isn’t!”

You’re instantly thrust into Kiro’s embrace, who wraps you safe in his arms. You peer up at his face to find his pupils constricting dangerously and a deep-set frown on his face.

“It’s dangerous to mess with another guy’s girl, so don’t let me catch you touching her again.”

Surprise and irritation is written all over the other man’s face as his gaze flitters between you and Kiro.

He finally lets out a dry laugh and raises his hand in defense.

“Hey man, look—”

Without giving him another second to speak, Kiro turns towards you with a bright grin.

“We have a couple hours before recording starts—how about grabbing a bite before, yeah?”

He pulls you out the studio, slamming the door shut with a bang that resonates throughout the empty corridor—effectively cutting all the previous tension and giving you a chance to feel at ease once more.

Gavin

Birdcop never thought he’d feel jealous over a simple exchange between you and the guy working the counter at clothes store the two of you were currently in.

But there he was!

Originally, he’d offered to drive you to the mall so you could pick up a few outfits—but upon endless insistence, he wound up accompanying you the entire day.

With a heap of clothing in his arms (because of course he offered to carry all of your bags), and you holding nothing but your purse and a drink—the two of you made way to the register to check-out everything.

The only person working was a tall, smiley man that brightened up upon seeing you. He only turned to look towards Gavin once before focusing on you for the rest of the checkout

“Hi. Will this be everything today?”

You smiled and nodded before beginning to open your wallet.

Though you didn’t see it but Gav sure did, the cashier was sneaking in glances at you every so often as he scanned each article of clothing with a smile that was beginning to look anything but pleasant.

He watched the way the stranger’s eyes raked every inch of your appearance, taking advantage of your obliviousness as you searched for your card.

“Ah, this will definitely look great on you! Oh, this too...I believe we just received a shipment of this yesterday...I think I have a couple extra discounts for you!”

You giggled at his attempt to spur conversation until the cashier finally turned towards Gavin—who, all the while, watched the scene play out with a clenched jaw and urge to punch the guy.

“...This your brother?”

oop—

You paused awkwardly and almost corrected him before Gavin slung an arm around your shoulder.

“Nah—her boyfriend.”

The atmosphere turned icy in an instant. Even the cashier’s movements had stilled as the seemingly-perpetual smile on his face became sheepish.

With his free hand, Gavin fished for his own credit card before laying it flat on the counter.

“I’ll pay—and we won’t be needing any discounts.”

The cashier’s shaky movements, along with Gavin’s cold gaze that seemed to be telling the man ‘hurry the fuck up’—you wanted to shrink away from the whole situation and the awkwardness of it all, but a small part of you found it a littleee funny.

The man had finished scanning and bagging everything in the blink of an eye, shoving them in your direction with a mumbly “have a nice day”.

Gavin grabbed all the bags in one swoop without so much as glancing at the cashier, who was already looking anxiously for the next customer.

You scolded Gavin lightly after the two of you had left the store, to which he responded with a defensive: “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you!”

You rolled your eyes and continued to walk with him before mumbling,

“You should’ve at least accepted the discount...”

Shaw

It was a sleazy fucker at the club who thought his comments were actually piquing your interest.

You had to admit that you dolled up a little extra when Shaw invited you out dancing—so you should’ve expected that your boyfriend’s eyes wouldn’t be the only pair on you that night.

He left you on the floor to grab a couple drinks, and the high-energy of the club was beginning to tire you out, so you left to find a place to sit.

There were two empty seats by the bar counter—originally meant for you and Shaw, but it didn’t take long until a stranger swept in to take the seat instead.

His sudden presence caught you off guard, but before you could say anything about the seat being reserved—he shot a grin in your direction.

“Did you come alone, beautiful?”

The way the stranger’s eyes scrutinized your figure put you off immediately.

“Actually, no, but I was saving that seat for someone...”

“If it’s for your friend, then I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if I stole you away for a little.”

The man’s voice lowered slightly, and the sparkle in his gaze spoke for itself.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take long—just saw you dancing earlier and just wanted to say how great you looked...”

A beer bottle slammed by your side before you felt a familiar presence intrude upon you and the stranger.

“It was fucking hot, wasn’t it?”

Tendrils of lavender hair and a piercing, gold gaze caught your eye as soon as Shaw shoved himself between you and the man.

“I was actually just about to tell my girlfriend how good she looked as well.”

You hardly have a second to react before Shaw’s lips crash into yours—earning not only the surprise of the man, but the gaze of several onlookers.

But he didn’t care. Shaw kept on kissing you; thoroughly ravaging every region of your mouth with his tongue—saliva dribbling and teeth clicking until you felt yourself becoming dizzy—as though Shaw were trying to subdue you.

in reality, it was all an attempt to tell the bastard “fuck off my girlfriend”.

He peered over his shoulder while kissing you, making sure the man was long gone before pulling you out of the passionate frenzy.

You were surprised to find that the man was no where to be seen, but Shaw was smiling to himself—adjusting the collar of his leather jacket before downing his drink.

While settling into the barstool by yours, he took quick notice of your wincing as you lightly touched the bite marks on your lips.

You still seem dazed and so thoroughly kissed, he’s honestly pretty impressed with his work.

Clicking his tongue, Shaw leans on the back of his chair before slinging an arm over your shoulder and pressing a sound kiss to your cheek.

“Sorry, doll. But I didn’t want that fucker getting any ideas.”

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

Text

Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone.

Spoilers!

So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.

What is that tone, you ask?

To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.

THE STORY:

Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.

(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)

But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden.

Genocide, basically.

As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)

The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.

Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.

The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara.

Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.

That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD

But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!

I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)

Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.

It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart.

Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.

(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)

Anyways.

I dig the PJs!

And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:

We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!

Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable.

I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?

Where do I BEGIN?!?!

EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.

From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:

“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG.

Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.

To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.

And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.

Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.

Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.

One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story.

And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.

As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...

I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.

*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!

Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.

(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.)

(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)

(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)

I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play.

(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)

Anyways.

Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:

THE ART:

I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?

I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.

There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!

Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR.

Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.

The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.

(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)

Anyways.

LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops.

And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+.

And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.

Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots.

And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.

(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)

Okay I think that’s everything.

Ah, nope, wait.

MISC.

Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD

This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD

It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.

(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.)

Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!

#supergirl: woman of tomorrow #long post #dc comics #supergirl: woman of tomorrow spoilers #kara zor el #comic thoughts #comic opinions #just occurred to me I should be crediting the creative team in these things #I think thus far I've included every title page?#still #will try to be better about that going forward

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thelukesalvez · 4 years

Text

Luke Alvez x (daughter) Reader: Through Flames

Request: @literallyprentissstwin requested; an imagine where Luke’s teenage daughter gets kidnapped and the team has to save her.

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau , @alvezstan , @saintd0lce , @ogmilkis , @reidswords , @akimagies, @literallyprentissstwin

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Kidnapping tw

A/N: this was emotional writing, luke as a single, super protective dad makes me rly soft so thank you so much for this request!

Luke has to excuse himself from the round table when the call comes through his phone. Normally, he’d let calls go to voicemail when he was at work, but you were always the exception.

“Hey, we’re in a meeting,” Luke begins to explain, but he’s cutoff.

“Daddy-” your voice is a hushed whisper. It’s enough to make Luke freeze in his tracks, his full attention shifting to you and the phone call.

You had turned seventeen years old a little over a month ago, and only ever called Luke ‘Daddy’ when you were either trying to evade trouble or get something you wanted.

Suddenly, Luke remembers you being ten years old again. That was the first time he ever remembers you calling him “Dad” instead of his coined title.

“Dad?” he had raised an eyebrow at you in the car as he drove you to school. “Since when do you call me dad?”

“I’m not a baby anymore,” you had said, crossing your small arms in front of you. “Daddy is for babies.”

“Well you’re still my baby,” he’d assured you.

After dropping you off, the smile Luke had been wearing faded. He was secretly disappointed by your sudden declaration. Being called ‘dad’ was just another indication that his girl was growing up, something he’d been dreading since the day you were born.

For the longest time, it had always been just you and Luke. When you were only six, your mom had walked out. There was little explanation as to why she left, other than her wanting another life, which Luke could never understand. Who could want a life away from you? You were his life- his girl, the only one that mattered.

“What’s wrong?” Luke asked through the phone, his voice serious.

“Th-there’s someone in the house,” your voice is barely a whisper when you respond, but it sends shockwaves through Luke’s entire body. It’s enough to send him back into the conference room, where the rest of his team is gathered.

“What?” he spits. “Who’s in the house?”

When you answer, Luke can detect traces of panic in your voice, “I don’t know…”

He pulls the phone away from his ear, the attention of the entire team is trained on him after overhearing the last bit of his conversation. “Send units to my house,” he says, without explanation, before speaking to you again.

Luke swallowed, only now realizing how dry his throat felt. “Where are you?”

“I’m hiding- under my bed. I-I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Daddy.”

Your words shoot through Luke like a knife, twisting their way into his skin until they pierce through his heart. His head is clouded with a feeling of helplessness and desperation. “It’s okay. It’s okay baby, I’m here. The police are on the way. Stay on the phone with me, do not hang up, okay?”

Instead of answering, you respond in a hushed, terrified tone. “He’s coming- he’s coming up the stairs!”

Luke squeezes his eyes shut and can’t help the burning tears that are threatening to spill over. All he can do is coax you through the phone and pray to whatever God might be out there that you’d be okay. So that’s what he does.

“Stay on the phone with me,” he orders. He doesn’t even recognize his own voice, but he needs you to stay calm. “And be quiet.”

He hears your labored breathing through the phone. It’s choppy and uneven, but you do as he says.

There’s a pause, a moment of complete silence that was probably only a minute, but to Luke, felt like an eternity. He doesn’t even realize he’s been holding his breath until now.

When you finally do speak, your voice is still quiet. “I think he’s gone.”

Luke’s shoulders visibly relax, and he’s about to exhale a sigh of relief when there’s a crashing sound on your end of the line, followed by an earth-shattering scream that makes Luke’s entire body go cold.

He yells your name through the line, but there’s nothing else he can do, there’s no way he can help you.

“Daddy!” you scream, “No! Daddy, please!”

Even after the line goes dead, Luke doesn’t hang up. He just listens to the empty dial tone, unable to move or think or do anything at all.

…

When in doubt, always revert back to victimology. That was the first rule of profiling that Luke had learned upon joining the BAU. The team spent hours on cases examining and comparing the Unsub’s victims. They’d look for commonalities or links between them, anything to link it all together. They’d assess the reason that person was targeted and any known connections among other victims.

Most often, perps would choose their victims based on some sort of fantasy. That person would fit into a mold, or have certain characteristics that match what the Unsub was looking for. Generally, these were distinguished attributes; hair or skin color, age, profession. Sometimes, the links weren’t so obvious and the team had to work a little harder to connect the dots.

Then, there were the surrogates. These people were chosen because they resembled someone in the Unsub’s life; a scorned lover, an abusive parent. Someone the perp needed to recreate for one reason or another. Once you found out who the victim resembled, you could narrow down your suspect pool and catch your guy.

Oftentimes, Luke’s favorite part of a case was to examine the victims. He liked how concrete and factual it all was. Victimology was so important- it had solved so many of the BAU’s cases.

The second rule of profiling was: don’t forget that this is a job.

Level headedness, clear thinking, and a calm demeanor were essential in finding an Unsub. It was never a chance to be a knight in shining armor, or a way to get fifteen minutes of fame. Sometimes cases ended well and sometimes they didn’t, no matter how well you profiled it and no matter how textbook they were. But no matter what, you couldn’t take it personally.

But Luke had known from the get go of this case that he was never going to be able to follow that rule. This was a different situation, completely uncharted territory for him. Since Garcia had been digging, she had found four other missing girls in Virginia, D.C., and Maryland that were all the same age as you, all taken from their homes in the middle of broad daylight. God knows how many of them were dead. And one of them was his kid.

“You know I have to take you off of this. You can’t be in the field.” Emily was suddenly standing in front of Luke. “But as a courtesy, I’m letting you stay in the BAU. You can help Garcia here.”

“Emily-” Luke started to protest, but she cut him off.

“No,” her voice is firm, it’s final. “This one is too close.”

He knows he can’t defy her orders, so instead, Luke hangs his head. First, he couldn’t help you over the phone. He’d stood by, helpless while you’d been abducted out of your own home. But now he couldn’t do so much as his own job to help save you. What kind of father was he?

Emily senses Luke’s uneasiness and places a reassuring hand on his sunken shoulder. “Luke, we will find her.”

She sounds so sure of herself.

“We will not rest until we do.”

…

When your mom still lived with you and your dad, she had a painting of a potted plant hanging in the hall.

“Why don’t we just get a plant?” you’d asked her, imagining a real snake plant would be much prettier than this dull painting of one.

But she’d shaken her head, “I can’t keep a plant alive for the life of me. Plants die. But a picture will live forever.”

You’re staring at a similar painting now hanging up on an unfamiliar blue wall. It’s wild and green and the leaves are all spilling over the edge of it’s pot. They’re growing in all directions, some combing towards a window, some stretching towards the sky. There was no logic or gravity or sense in it. But that plant was going to live forever.

The same couldn’t be said for you.

…

“Are you sure, Garcia?” Emily asked. Her, Reid, and Luke were gathered in the conference room, sitting in chairs around the table.

Garcia nodded, her laptop clutched tightly in her hand.

“I’m sure, the other four girls’ families all received distressed calls roughly six hours after the initial abduction.”

“Why did no one tie these crimes together until now?” Emily wondered out loud.

“Because he crossed state lines, there was no communication between the stations, so no one made the connection,” Garcia explained.

“Wait-” Luke interrupted, not entirely sure he heard his coworker right. “You’re telling me that I’m gonna get a call from her?”

Garcia nods slowly. “If he follows the pattern.”

Luke’s mouth feels dry. “Can you trace it?”

She shrugs, shifting the laptop into her other hand. “I can try- I mean, I’ll definitely try. It just depends on if it’s a disposable, how many cell towers are in the area, how long the call is-”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you,” Luke mumbles.

Luke watches the clock like it’s his job for the next hour. He concentrates his eyes on the digital numbers on his phone screen, trying not to let his mind think about anything else. By anything else, he meant you and whether or not you were still alive.

When six hours past your abduction came and went, Luke was beside himself.

“Why isn’t she calling?” he asked, there was a knot in his throat reminding him that he was on the verge of tears any second now.

“Some of the calls were made up to seven hours after abduction,” Emily reminded him. “She’s going to call.”

Luke continued staring at his phone and his lockscreen. It was a picture of you and him he’d snapped at the park from earlier that year. You were both sitting in the grass, you with your phone in your hand, leaning into Luke, and a cheerful grin spread wide across your face.

“You take selfies at the wrong angle!” you’d laughed at him. “You’re supposed to hold the camera higher.”

“What? Like this?” he’d asked, extending his arm.

“Yes! Perfect!”

That’s when he’d taken it.

Luke’s thoughts are interrupted when an unknown number suddenly flashes across his screen. For a moment, he can’t believe what he’s seeing and he freezes in place. Garcia clicks a key on her computer, then gives Luke a thumbs up, indicating that she was ready to begin tracking the call.

Luke’s hesitation is short lived and after only a moment, he hurries to answer the phone.

“Daddy?” he hears your voice say. .

“Hi sweetheart,” he answers, trying to decompress the emotion in his voice.

Luke remembers when you were a baby, learning to walk, and were stumbling all over the place. You would always look up to him when you’d fall, and if Luke looked concerned, you’d burst into hysterical tears. But, if he seemed calm, you’d pick yourself up and keep going.

“Are you hurt?”

“N-no.” You pause. “Daddy, I’m scared-”

Luke bit his lip. “I know you are, baby.”

He looks to Garcia, hoping to see any indication that the tracking was successful. She shakes her head and mouths to Luke, “I need more time.”

Luke nods. “I want you to know how much I love you,” he says.

He could practically hear the panic rise in your voice when you responded, “Are you telling me that because I’m going to die?”

“No,” he says sternly. “No, baby. You got everyone looking for you, we’re going to find you..”

“He says- he says that he’s going to take good care of me-” he can hear that you’re crying now in the hiccups between your words. You always hiccuped when you cried.

Emily slides a note towards Luke from across the table just then. He peers at it and reads, ‘try to speak to the Unsub directly.’

He nods.

“Baby,” he says calmly. “Can you ask the man-” he swallows. “Can you ask the man if I can speak to him?”

Luke hears muffled voices on the other line, then a shuffle, before it’s quiet again.

Garcia, meanwhile, is staring at her screen and typing frantically. She mouths to Luke the word, “almost.”

When Luke hears shallow breathing on the other end of the line, he knows it’s his daughter’s abductor. His insides fill up with rage, but he muscles it down. He needed to remain calm.

“My name’s Luke Alvez-” he speaks into his phone. “I just want to talk.”

There’s more muffled sounds and then a deep, male voice speaks. “I have nothing to talk about.”

“What about Y/N?” Luke spits out, desperate to keep the Unsub on the phone. “You must want to talk about Y/N. It’s very clear that you care about her.”

The words taste like poison in Luke’s mouth. But he was willing to say or do whatever it took to get her back.

“More than you ever have!” the Unsub shouts.

“You don’t think I care enough about my daughter?” he asks, trying to keep the conversation open ended. As long as Luke kept him on the line, you had a chance.

“No!” he hollers. He sounds agitated and unsteady. “I’ve been watching her for a while now. I see the way you leave her alone, sometimes for the entire night!”

Luke continued to press. “You don’t think seventeen year olds should be left alone?”

“No child should ever be left alone! That’s when accidents happen. You can’t protect them.”

“Protect them from what?”

Luke has to swallow back the bile that rises in his throat when he hears the Unsub sneer, “Men like me.”

With that, the line goes dead.

…

When you were little, you used to be scared of the dark. You’d make your dad come in, after you were tucked under all the covers, and check out the whole bedroom- in the closet, under the bed, all the drawers of your dresser. Sometimes, you’d wake up crying in the middle of the night, convinced that you’d seen something hiding in the shadows of your room. Your dad would hurry in, quick to sit on the edge of your bed and hold you tight.

“Monsters aren’t real,” he had assured you, his large hand tracing circled on your back.

But now you knew he was wrong. Monsters were real.

Now, you sat in the dimly lit room of your capture’s house. The sun was setting outside, soon it would be completely dark. You were sitting against a wall, your hands now tied tightly together in front of you.

Your capture paced rapidly on the opposite end of the room. He ran his long fingers through his blonde hair and muttered to himself. Whatever your dad had said to him over the phone really rattled him.

You had faith in your dad. He knew what he was doing. But you wished he would’ve just stayed on the phone with you just a bit longer. Just the sound of his voice made you feel safe. You closed your eyes and tried to hear it in your mind.

…

“Were you able to track it?” Emily is hunched over Garcia, gazing at her laptop screen with intent.

“Not completely,” she says, frazzled. “I was able to narrow it down. It was a cell phone, and it pinged off from one of these two towers.” She points to the screen.

“That’s what? A thirty mile radius?”

Garcia nods solemnly.

Luke huffs out anxiously. “So what?” he barks. “What? We have nothing?”

“No-” Emily interjects. “We have the profile.”

Hours passed since your abduction, and Luke was desperately trying not to lose hope.

He’d attempted to call back the number you reached him on three times now. Each time, it went straight to an automated voicemail.

He tried to help the team, but his mind was too scattered and he couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than a few moments before he was worrying about you again.

Currently, he was slouched over in the same chair he’d been sitting in all day, his arms crossed across his chest and staring up at the vision board Reid had created. Your driver’s license picture was taped to the board, your smiling, eager face looking back at him.

He remembers the day he’d brought you to the DMV. He’d secretly been hoping you’d fail, but only because he was so worried about you driving on the road. His biggest fear was one day receiving a call that you’d been in an accident.

Turns out he should have been worried about other things.

His thoughts are once again interrupted, this time by JJ. She’s bursting through the conference room door like she’s on a mission.

“Guys-” she announces. “They just ID’d the remains of three of the four victims. They were burned in a fire pit in the radius Garcia narrowed down.” She crossed the room and put a tack in the map Reid had taped up. “Here,” she said.

“Burned?” Rossi asked, narrowing his eyes. “That’s an odd means of disposal. Do you think it’s a forensic countermeasure?”

“I don’t think so,” Reid mused, narrowing his eyes like he always did when he was in deep thought. “There were fingerprints and DNA all over the crime scene. The Unsub just wasn’t a match in CODIS. If he were so concerned with hiding evidence, he wouldn’t have left so much more behind.”

“So why burn the bodies?” JJ asks.

Reid shrugs. “Maybe it’s part of his ritual that we never considered.”

Luke thinks back to his conversation with your capture on the phone, trying to uncover any incriminating evidence in his words.

“He was really upset that I would leave Y/N home alone,” Luke stated out loud. “That bothered him more than anything, he said she could be harmed.”

“What if our Unsub lost a child?” Reid mused. “Think about it- he’s more concerned with Y/N’s safety, than anything else- which indicates that he sees her as a surrogate daughter.”

“And the taunting phone calls, to the parents- it’s to make them feel guilty for not being able to protect their children,” JJ adds.

Reid continues, “What if that represents guilt he felt? For not being able to protect his own child?”

“I can narrow down child deaths in the radius I was able to locate,” Garcia suggests. She’s already typing away at her laptop.

“Did the Unsub mention anything else?” Rossi asks Luke.

Luke bites his lip and thinks back to the line that stunned him the most. “He told me that ‘No child should ever be left alone,’ and that ‘that’s when accidents happen’.”

The team mused over the quote for a moment before Reid spoke up. “Garcia, narrow your search to child deaths by fires.”

“What’re you thinking?” Tara asks Spencer.

“The burning of the bodies,” Reid explains. “I think he’s making these families experience what he did.”

“Bingo,” Garcia announces. “Megan Charles burned to death in a house fire just over a year ago, three weeks before the first victim disappeared. Her father, Doug Charles, came home late from work one night to find the house in flames. Firefighters couldn’t get her out in time. She was eighteen years old,” she finished sadly.

“You know what to do-” Emily said, as she and the rest of the team were already standing up and charging out the door.

Luke stood up from his chair but she shook her head.

“You can’t Luke-”

“Emily-” he pleaded, the tears he’d been holding back all night finally threatening to spill over. “Please, she’s my kid, I can’t just sit here-”

“Luke,” Emily said sternly. “You don’t have to be a hero.”

Luke shook his head. “I’m not. But I am a father.”

Luke watches as she truly considers his plea. “Fine,” she says, her voice softening. “You can come, but your gun stays here and you're waiting in the car.”

“Thank you,” Luke mouths. He strips his holster and gun from his belt and shoots after the rest of the team.

…

I didn’t do the dishes, you thought as you waited for your imminent death.

You wondered if your dad would get home and be mad to find that you didn’t do the one thing he’d asked you to do while he was away at work.

Now that you think about it, your dad rarely got mad, he got disappointed. You hoped disappointment wasn’t the last thing he ever thought of you.

…

As Luke rode towards you and the Unsub, he thought about the day you were born. He and his wife had been at home watching HGTV when her contractions started. They were getting closer and closer together as Luke drove like a maniac to the hospital. He left the car in the loading zone while he hurried his wife into the delivery room.

As soon as the doctor placed your bundled blanket in his arms he knew that you were the very best thing that would ever happen to him.

Your first word was ‘dada’. And you’d cry if he ever left the room. He taught you to ride a bike and he let you paint his nails all the colors of the rainbow. He took you hiking through all the trails in Virginia and would always bring the ingredients for s’mores on your camping trips. He’d watch dramatic teenage TV shows he had absolutely no interest in just to spend time with you. You’d talk about everything from which character from The Office you felt best represented you to why mothers leave their children sometimes.

When the SUV pulled into the driveway of the Unsub’s house, Luke unbuckled his seatbelt by habit. He was about to open the door to the SUV when Emily stopped him.

“Alvez, stay here.” She ordered.

Luke wanted to protest, but deep down, he knew she was right. He wasn’t sure what he would do upon seeing the man who had taken you away from him. And what if the team was too late? Luke knew he wouldn’t hesitate before killing Doug Charles with his bare hands.

He nods while biting his lip harshly. “Bring back my daughter,” he pleads.

Emily nods. “We will.”

…

This wasn’t how, or when, you thought your life would end. You were only seventeen, afterall.

As this complete stranger walked towards you with a knife and a devilish look in his eyes, you thought about how much you wanted to do. Like go to Europe- or see Niagara Falls. You wanted to skydive and snorkel in the ocean. You wanted to drink coffee in Paris and ride a camel in Egypt. You wanted to fall in love.

You were running through the list in your own head when you heard a smashing sound from down the hall.

Your eyes went wide with fear while the man above you snatched you into his arms. He hoisted you to your feet and barreled his arm across your chest, the knife pressing into your throat threateningly.

“Doug Charles, FBI!” A familiar voice boomed. You recognized it as Matt’s.

Footsteps grew closer until the door between you and the hall was opened hastily.

A handful of known faces filed into the room. Your eyes first land on Rossi. You’d been to his house before for spaghetti dinners. He’s holding his gun out in front of him, much like everyone else in the room. You searched their faces frantically for your dads. But you quickly realized that he wasn’t there.

“Drop the knife,” Emily says slowly.

You struggle to breath against the pressure of the man’s arm over your chest. You feel the blade against your skin, it’s sharp and ready to slit your throat at any minute. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remain as still as possible.

“Doug- we know what happened to your daughter.” You recognize the voice as Spencer’s. “But what happened wasn't your fault.”

You feel the man’s grip tighten on you. “Shut up!” he boomed.

“What happened to Megan was horrible,” Reid pressed. “It was horrible, but it was an accident, and it wasn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself. Killing Y/N isn’t going to bring Megan back.”

“Look at her,” Emily interjects. “She’s a seventeen year old girl. One year younger than Megan was. She’s innocent, Doug. Just like Megan was. Don’t hurt her, let her go.”

To your disbelief, after a few moments, you actually feel the grip on you loosen before it’s released altogether. You use the opportunity to launch yourself forward towards what you presumed as safety. Spencer was the first one to catch you. He wraps his arms around your shaking shoulders and shields you as he hurries you out of the room before you can see anything else. You barely hear Emily’s voice as she reads the man his Miranda Rights in the distance.

“M-my dad-” you spit out, your voice wavering.

“He’s outside,” Spencer assures you, his grip around your shoulders tightening as he feels you growing unsteady. “I got you,” he assures you.

Before your eyes could even adjust to the darkness of the outside, you hear a voice calling your name.

Dad, you thought.

Your legs, despite being wobbly, stepped forward towards the voice, until you could see him pushing past the other officers and EMT’s on the scene.

“Dad!” you shouted.

“Y/N, oh my God,” he took three giant steps forward before crushing you into his arms. He held you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. But you noticed that as soon as he touched you, you stopped shaking.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded against him.

“You’re not hurt?” he pulled away, holding you at arms length. There was worry and concern written all over his face, and he stared into your eyes as if trying to gauge the damage done.

“I’m okay,” you told him.

Luke nodded only once before pulling you back into his embrace, and at last you felt at peace. Luke realized that holding you in his arms felt like a plane touching down in his own city again, when he’d realize that the only reason he ever left in the first place was to remember what it felt like to come home.

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