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sundrop-writes · 10 months ago

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Figure It Out

A Criminal Minds Casefic

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.” -Friedrich Nietzsche

Summary:

Since you joined the BAU, you have been keeping a terrible secret from the team.

When the team takes a case in your hometown - your festering secret comes to be known with a vengeance.

Fem!Reader x Gen!BAU Team (Platonic). General Casefic, modelled after a Criminal Minds episode. Angst, Mystery, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Criminal Minds Season 3.

Word Count: 18,000

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed Warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is a general casefic - there is no romantic pairings in this fic, it is more about the mystery of the case and how the reader character fits into it (if this were a real Criminal Minds episode, this would be the episode named after the reader) - with that being said, the main relationship focuses are between Emily and the reader and Spencer and the reader (because I am biased and I love them) but there isn’t any romantic threads or romantic tones, it is all platonic; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and is described as a woman, but I went out of my way to make sure that there is no descriptions of the readers looks or body type; there is use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); mentions of the reader being from Georgia (because the case takes place in her hometown); smoking/cigarettes - mentions of the reader character smoking tobacco; mentions of the reader character being injured (severely in a past incident, and minor injuries during the course of the fic); mentions of vomit/mentions of the reader character throwing up; lots of warnings for general Criminal Minds topics; murder, killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, violence, guns/gun violence, mentions of rape and sexual violence, mentions of systematic violence towards women; there is no graphic depictions of rape/no rape scenes in the fic, but there is mentions of the event of rape happening to certain characters, references to rape culture, and the shame/guilt/self blame a rape victim feels; mentions of stalking/stalking behaviors - including the delusion mindset of a stalker, obsessiveness, sending someone unwanted letters, mentions of a ‘one sided’ relationship; mentions of trauma/PTSD; descriptions of symptoms of PTSD; themes surrounding the cycle of violence; I did kind of purposefully make the warnings a bit more vague than I usually do, because I really don’t want to spoil the plot of this fic. But as lot as you are okay with the maturity of all these themes, you should be okay with this fic!!

A/N: This is pretty much 100% inspired by the music video for Figure It Out by Royal Blood - which the fic is named after. I highly recommend watching the music video, because it is fucking art in my opinion, but I have taken such heavy inspiration from it in terms of the style, tone, and even storyline - so the music video kind of spoils this fic. So probably watch it after you read the fic lmao. I also feel like the instrumental version of the song goes very well with this fic. This fic is not at all typical and I am terrified that people won't like it, or that they won't 'get it'. But I am very proud of it, so I am going to put it out there and hope that people enjoy it. So - please enjoy!! I really love writing Criminal Minds casefics and coming up with the details of a case, and writing it in this style was so, so exciting and interesting for me, and I really do hope that you can enjoy reading it.

...

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche

...

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret more palpable in your lungs.

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would soon be resigned to a cage.

You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand.

Ten more minutes.

“I just want to talk.”

So caught up in your thoughts, your mind so foggy from the hectic night - you had almost forgotten that there was someone sitting in front of you.

He looked so entirely stiff - wearing his cookie cutter suit and his carved-in scowl. He did nothing to shift your mood.

“This is just a conversation. Nothing more.”

He continued on, using a monotone, would-be soothing voice when you didn’t say anything.

The metal chair felt stiffer underneath you, and you felt further suffocated within that small, concrete box.

You felt inclined to call it an interrogation, but you wouldn’t be so quick to tell him that. It’s not like you were going to tell him what he wanted to hear.

“You can smoke in here if that makes you feel more comfortable.” He added on, pushing something from the middle of the table toward you.

A pack of cigarettes and a lighter. There was also an ashtray. A collection of things that someone had put there, knowing that you would be resigned to this tiny, tiny room.

“You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Hotch.” You huffed, saying his name, using the same technique that he would likely be using on you. You could mirror him, get ahead on the mind games. “I’m not as crazy and detached from reality as you think I am.”

Perhaps that was a false statement. You weren’t even sure how crazy he thought you were. Perhaps, that in itself made you detached from reality. You couldn’t be sure.

Nonetheless, you took him up on the offer. You reached out and eagerly picked up the pack of smokes, ripping off the outer plastic before you took one out, shoving the tip between your lips and lighting it up.

You took a heavy draw, and the nicotine throbbed through you. Seemingly adding to the headache you already had from the large gash on your forehead that they had hastily bandaged before bringing you in here, rather than relieving it. Still, you sucked on the cigarette like it was your only lifeline - taking a moment to tap some of the ash into the small ashtray while you stared at Hotch carefully.

You wondered if you should really tell him all the gory details.

“Just tell me what happened. Tell me your side of the story.” Hotch said, trying his best to sound warm and convincing. It didn’t work. “I’m just trying to figure it out. Just like you are.”

Perhaps your biggest regret was that you were here, cooped up in this hole - and he was in the hospital somewhere, laying in a soft bed, being attended to by nurses, being comforted. The fact that he was still breathing - even with the assistance of a tube down his throat, and not in a body bag.

“You’ll never look at me the same if I do tell you.” You managed to find these words, and these words only. Ominous, almost threatening - more so than you intended.

“I won’t.” He returned. Shallow, fallible.

Suddenly, a crash from the hallway broke the tense silence that was brewing between the two of you. The door was thick, but it wasn’t enough to disguise the ruckus coming from outside.

“No! No! You have to let me through! I have to be in there!”

The voice was familiar, but that tone of desperation certainly was not.

“Reid, he specifically told us to sit this one out-”

“Sit this one out?!” Reid repeated the words back, his voice warping with pure shock, the inability to conceptualize such a thing. “You expect me to just sit out?” He scoffed. “If it wasn’t for me, two more people would be dead, and there wouldn’t even be a ‘this one’! Now let. Me. Through.”

“Reid-”

With all his bolstering stubbornness, he shoved past whoever had been trying to stop him, and as you took another heavy puff off your cigarette, the interrogation room door came flying open.

Hotch stood up, rushing to block the door, but you smiled. Though you were numb from the day’s events - it was your natural instinct upon seeing him.

“Reid-” Hotch choked out, trying to block the gangly man from even entering the room.

“Good evening, Doctor Reid.” You greeted him gently.

Upon seeing your reaction - so much more open and warm - Hotch allowed him in. This was the wedge that he needed to pry you open. Reid closed the door behind himself with an indigent huff and a glare toward his superior.

Reid crossed his arms, hovering near the door as he turned his stiff-jawed glare toward you now. Your cigarette turned to a hot cherry in your hands - sucked to death already, and you stubbed it out in the tray before starting a new one. You knew chain-smoking was an even filthier habit than the occasional ciggy, but you had one hell of a day under your belt. If there was ever a time, it was now.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Reid asked, his voice stiff and oppositional.

“Oh, so many things.” You said, your tone clever and unphased. Hotch let out a sigh as he sat back down in his chair. He was glad that you were talking openly now, at least. “Shall we go in alphabetical order, or start at my birth and work or way back from there?”

Reid let out another nasal thick sound. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for banter.

You were met with nothing but a stony wall of silence, and cold glares of disapproval. It almost made you feel guilty. Almost.

“Let’s start with this,” Reid corrected you. “Why?”

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself.

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.”

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

Prentiss led the team as they searched through the house. It was the only solid lead they had as to where you might be. It was a house that your parents used to own - a place of significance because you had lived there the summer when it first happened.

“Clear!”

She went through the living room, the kitchen, the entire first floor, leading the team with Reid at her side, guns drawn.

“Clear!”

As she crested the top of the stairs, she heard sobbing.

It was distinct - something that tugged harshly on her heartstrings.

Even though it was against protocol not to clear the rooms in order, she rushed toward it. Reid continued to flank her - obviously he had heard the noise too.

Prentiss landed a sharp kick on the door’s handle, causing it to fling open.

The picture on display in front of her almost caused her to drop her gun.

Hotch had been right.

You were on top of the man, straddling him. Both you and the man were badly beaten - but right off the bat, Prentiss could tell that he was far worse off. Clearly, you had bested him in the fight this time.

The contents of the room strewn about; broken glass, busted furniture, the curtain rod torn down. It looked like the remnants of a bad WWE brawl. You were the picture of desperation - heavy, hot tears coming from your eyes, blood smearing down your face from a gash on your forehead as you stared down the man beneath you with fiery madness in your eyes.

You had a knife to his throat. A large hunting knife - the same kind that all the other victims had been stabbed with.

You had the tip of it poised to his throat, just barely touching his skin. If you put any amount of pressure on the blade - if you bared down, then you would slice right through his esophagus. It would take almost no effort from you at all to end his life.

From what Prentiss could see, the man was unconscious. He was completely slack, his body still on the ground. He was bleeding from a small head wound. His life was entirely in your hands. He couldn’t fight back.

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of the confrontation with your life’s biggest monster.

Though it went against everything inside of her, Emily kept her gun raised. She kept her arms stiff, keeping her gun pointed at you. As much as she detested that man, knowing what he had done - it was her job to shoot you if you tried to kill him. Right now, she hated that job.

“Put the knife down!” Prentiss ordered sharply.

You didn’t move.

Naturally, Reid, in all of his softness and empathy, slackened his arms and holstered his gun before anyone could blink.

“Come on, put it down.” She tried again.

You ignored Prentiss entirely, your hands still shaking, making no moves to lift the knife away from the man’s throat.

Reid moved to step into the room, and from his view at the top of the stairs, arms stiff and gun pointed in your general direction - Hotch called out to him.

“Reid-!” He tried to warn Reid against doing this. Of course, he didn’t listen.

Reid knelt down beside you, posturing in surrender with his arms. Of course, he wasn’t even on your radar at the moment. Your entire gaze, your entire focus was on the unconscious man underneath you - the true target of your agony.

“Y/N,” Reid said your name calmly, trying to capture your attention. “You don’t have to do this.”

You hesitated for a moment, and Prentiss worried that even his gentle voice wouldn’t be able to get through to you.

“I have to.” You sobbed out. More heavy tears slid down your face, and you began to shake more visibly, shockwaves moving throughout your entire body.

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.”

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls.

It made Prentiss’ heart jump inside of her chest. If it wasn’t protocol, she would have dropped her gun and run over to comfort you with a hug. But she knew that you weren’t in the most stable place. You might have tried to stab her with the knife.

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-”

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, trampling over his quiet voice. “I killed those women. I killed them!”

“Prentiss!” Hotch edged in, warning her.

If you didn’t move off of the unconscious man soon, then she would have to take you down.

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back. She had faith in Reid.

“We both know that’s not true.” Reid told you. “You didn’t kill them. You didn’t mean for this to happen-”

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.”

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.”

There was a gutting silence.

“Please, just give me the knife.”

At this point he was doing some pleading of his own - but your hands were unsteady and you still refused to look at him.

You weren’t going to give up the fight that easily.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Somewhere On The Country Backroads - Madison, GA. 2:11AM.

“I want two squad cars down the road, I want state police cutting off all the possible exits to the major highways.” Agent Hotchner was on the scene, doing what he did best - giving orders. “I want to cut off any chance of possible escape incase the suspect tries to flee-”

“Hotch, do you really think that’s necessary?” Morgan asked. “We’ve got the house. Thermal cam’s got two bodies on the second floor. There’s nowhere to run from here. We’ve got spike strips on all the dirt roads. No car is getting past any of that. It should function as a hard extraction from here.”

Hotch glared at Morgan as he fastened the straps on his bulletproof vest. The glare of the red and blue lights from the squad cars only made the deep frown lines on his face look firmer.

“I am not taking any chances.” Hotch said. “We both know this is an incredibly delicate matter. We found one of the victims across state lines. We know this suspect has mobility. I’m not risking finding another body.”

The air became tense as everyone realized what he meant by ‘another body’.

“I want tactical swat to go in first-” Hotch began, and was quickly cut off by Morgan.

“You’re sending in swat when there’s a hostage in there?” Morgan questioned harshly.

“Even if we go in there blazing, showing force, she might not come in quietly.” Hotch explained.

“You’re serious?” Prentiss replied, hooking the wire of her earpiece around her ear in order to tuck the mic in. “She’s the one you’re worried about? She’s a victim in all this.”

“You saw the incident report.” Hotch reminded her. “The amount of defensive wounds she had… the first time he attacked her, she fought back hard. She’s desperate, she’s feeling cornered, she-”

“She’s terrified right now.” Prentiss pressed harshly. “She doesn’t need a bunch of men going in there waving guns in her face.”

“She could sacrifice him.” Hotch theorized, further trying to prove his point. “This could be her chance to finally get justice. Finally getting rid of the man who’s tormented her for all these years.”

“So we have to bring them both in. Quietly.” Morgan said. “We can’t just go in there shooting. If your theory is correct, then she could use him as a human shield.”

Hotch nodded. “Fine. No tactical swat. Prentiss, you take the lead.”

“Yeah, and I’m taking Reid with me.” Prentiss told him sharply. “Somebody with a little compassion around here.”

Prentiss nodded and scoffed, walking past Hotch, gently whispering ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ on her way to get in the car with Reid.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

When JJ let out a harsh sigh, Emily turned to her, swiveling in the borrowed office chair with a creak.

“What is it?” Emily asked.

“Don’t you feel that?” JJ replied. Emily shrugged, waiting a moment for her to finish the thought. “That… overwhelming feeling of dread?”

Of course, it was obvious. No leads. No breaks in the case.

It was hopeless.

“Come on, I thought you were the hopeful one.” Rossi pointed out, tossing his empty paper coffee cup into a nearby trash can.

“How can I be hopeful when one of my best friends is caught up in all this?” JJ fired back. “If she-”

Before she could finish that thought, Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention.

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.”

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

You knew that it was cruel, but you couldn’t help but to enjoy his groans of pain.

There had been so many others - so many monsters to take down. So many men that you had gotten rid of without a second thought. Men you had put bullets in that didn’t mean as much to you as this. So many others you had easily forgotten about. But he had taunted your soul in a special way. And you knew that you were enjoying this too much.

“Tell me you like it!”

You screamed, taking another downward swing with the piece of wood - a leg broken off from the chair he had bound you to. He had been convinced that you wouldn’t break free. Laughable. He should have known better.

When he didn’t respond, you took another swing.

You could have stopped. You could have ended it. But you didn’t.

“Come on, tell me you like it!”

You screamed in his face, sputtering blood across him. At one point, he had punched you in the mouth. You weren’t exactly sure where the blood was coming from. You didn’t exactly care.

That would be your excuse.

He had hit you too. You were battered. You were just a fragile woman, after all.

“You’re a fuckin’ crazy bitch.” He coughed, sputtering out some blood himself. “I… I always liked that about you. It was one of the reasons I fell in love.”

He grinned - bright red spread out across his teeth, and it gave you the intense desire to see those teeth missing. To make him swallow them.

“You don’t love me.” You told him firmly. “You just get an adrenaline rush from being around me because I’m not afraid of you.” You explained. “Unlike the other whores, I fight.”

While you were preoccupied with the words, he flipped onto his stomach and began crawling across the floor.

He thought you were too stupid to notice, but he was inching his way toward the hunting knife that had been thrown out of his hand during the scuffle. It was a slow, sluggish crawl. You had broken a few of his ribs, his kneecap. It was nice to see him so slow. You had probably severely damaged his internal organs with how hard you had been beating him with the makeshift baton.

It was worse than last time. You stood above him like a menace - watching and waiting. You hated that you knew you would take an odd kind of joy in removing his hope when you stole the knife from his grip.

Just as he grazed his fingers across it, you brought another harsh swing down across his achilles tendon, causing him to scream out in pain.

You still had a lot of strength left in you. He was tiring out.

He was losing the game.

“Come on baby, tell me how you like it.” You continued to mock him. “Tell me how good I am.”

“Fuck you.” He moaned out.

You felt satisfaction bloom inside of you - those were the words.

He had finally given up hope. He had finally realized that maybe: he wasn’t going to beat you. Maybe he wasn’t above you on the playing field anymore. He was fucking around with a fellow predator, not toying with his prey.

“Oh baby. You know I’m only doing this because I love you.” You said, repeating his own words back to him in a cruel mockery.

That was when he realized: this wasn’t just a lover’s spat. This was a culling.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Just Outside of Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:04AM.

Reid needed some air.

Working on the case so diligently, not coming up with any leads. It was intensely difficult. Letting the balmy summer Southern air flow over him, getting a good gulp of the fresh air into his lungs - it was a bit more awakening than drinking his sixth cup of coffee for that day.

He was surprised when he rounded a corner, trying to go for a short walk to stretch his legs, and he saw a very recognizable face hovering near a gray Honda.

“Mrs. L/N?” He posed, approaching her gently. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

JJ had promised to call her if there were any updates. Reid didn’t want to disappoint her by telling her that there were none.

“It’s Miss L/N.” She said quietly. “I never married.”

Reid nodded at this. “My apologies.”

She looked deeply troubled.

Reid waited patiently for her to reply to his initial question - for her to tell him whatever was burdening her. If he was lucky, it could help with the case. It was always the families who could help put those final puzzle pieces into place. That was something Gideon taught him, so he took it as sacred advice.

“You’re Doctor Reid, aren’t you?” She posed, stepping forward to approach him slightly - still stiff, still stand-off-ish. He easily understood why. He nodded in response. “My daughter speaks very fondly of you.”

Reid cracked a small smile at this.

His attention was then brought to a small box - a shoe box as she held it out to him.

“I don’t mean to bother you at this late hour, but… you said to let you know if I thought of anything that might help you.” She reminded him. He nodded again. “And I - well, the reason I didn’t bring these up the first time… you can understand that I have a need to protect my daughter?”

“Of course.” He affirmed. “It’s every parent’s natural instinct to protect their child.”

She looked solemn at his words.

“I had no idea that… that what happened to her could potentially be connected to these… these murders in any possible way.” She told him, shuddering as the word passed through her lips. “I was just trying to shield her, you have to understand.”

She handed him the shoebox, and when he took it and lifted off the lid, it took him only a moment to understand. He would need to find a quiet place to fully inspect the contents, but it was all being pieced together in his mind now.

“Thank you for bringing me this.” He told her quietly.

“Doctor Reid, you have to promise me that you’ll bring my daughter home unharmed.” She said, tears coming to her eyes. “She’s a good girl. Please, just bring her home.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise her that. Not under the circumstances.

“Ma’am… I will try my best. That is all I can promise you.” He told her.

She nodded in quiet understanding before Reid turned and marched back inside.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 11:03PM.

The flint of the lighter flicking seemed to be the loudest thing in the room in that moment - even with the low hum of the eleven o’clock news playing in the background.

It was so odd. Everything was exactly like you remembered it. Withered - but the same.

Even the chair you were sitting in. The old wooden chair that had been lugged up from the kitchen, one that you used to sit in for hours and do homework - it was rickety, but somehow the same.

You took a sharp drag off the cigarette after it was lit for you, continuing to listen to the feminine voice on the radio as the news played.

“I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, and I’m speaking on behalf of the Madison Police Department. Tonight, we are making an urgent appeal to the public for information. Earlier this evening, a woman went missing in the area of-”

“I never took you for a smoker.” He said, his voice sharp and confident in the words.

You tapped your cigarette into the ashtray with your free hand before raising it up to your lips to take another drag. Right now, the smoke heavy in your lungs was the only thing keeping you sane.

“I never smelled it on you back then.” He added on when you didn’t respond to him. “Bitches who smoke always smell like dirtbags. You just… smelled nice.”

“I didn’t smoke back then.” You quietly replied.

He had driven you to take up the habit.

You took another drag of your cigarette - you wanted to enjoy it. The longer you could drag it out, literally, the longer you could delay the inevitable.

“-The suspect was last seen driving a blue and white, 1970s Ford truck. If you see the vehicle, please-”

“They’re lookin’ for ya.” He said casually, nodding toward the radio.

You wished they weren’t.

You directed the conversation elsewhere.

“Tell me how this is gonna end.” You urged him quietly, ashing your cigarette again.

“You and I both know… this was only ever gonna end one way.” He told you, his voice irritably cocky.

He had you now. He had won.

“-We believe that this abduction is connected to a string of recent murders in the area. It is critical that if you have any information, you call our tip line at-”

He rose from his spot then, and turned off the radio.

The silence was gutting.

He moved toward the door, but you abruptly caught his attention.

“Remember,” You told him. “You made me a promise.” You said quietly. “No more. No more girls.”

He chuckled at this. “Of course, darlin’. No more.”

It felt like a lie.

“But only because I love you.” He gave a filthy grin along with these words, and your insides shuddered.

You knew that he wasn’t actually capable of love. You had known that from the moment you first laid eyes on him.

You didn’t bother to muster any words in return.

He crossed the room back toward you and leaned down, planting a kiss on your forehead. Your body stiffened, entirely stony toward it. It was selfish on his part - loving on you like a doll, rather than trying to bring you any comfort.

He moved back to the door silently.

You worried about what would happen the moment he went out the door. He turned to you just before he left.

“Don’t run off now.” He said with a wink. Ego. Sarcasm.

“Where am I gonna go, Dan?” You sighed.

You lifted your tethered hand up to drive the point home, and the clink of handcuffs was now apparent in the otherwise silent room.

He shut the door with a chuckle. You put out your cigarette in the ashtray, reaching for the loose spoke in the back of the chair. This was a chair that you used to sit in for hours while studying. That loose spoke used to bug you all the time.

It came free after only a few tugs.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 10:24PM.

The previously dark parking lot of the secluded, back country convenience store was now entirely lit up with red and blue. Four police cars had crowded into the area, surrounding the place where you had last been seen.

Inside, under the harsh white fluorescent lights of the store, Hotchner and Prentiss were interviewing the store clerk - a young man who had supposedly been the last person to speak to you before the abduction.

“So, you’re sure that you didn’t see anything?” Hotch pressed the young man - someone who seemed so entirely nervous under his harsh, unmoving gaze.

“I swear, man, I didn’t see anything.” He said, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. “She was parked in the back of the parking lot, and once you walk around the corner, there’s no way to see someone through the doors. It’s like - like a total blind spot, man.”

“The UnSub had to have known that.” Hotch noted quietly, turning to Prentiss. “He approached her knowing that he wouldn’t be seen.”

“Do you think he was waiting out there?” Prentiss wondered aloud.

Then she turned back to the clerk.

“Was there a man in here before she came in? He would have been in his 30s. Very cold, he wouldn’t have said anything. Just paid quietly and left. He might not have even bought anything - he might have just walked around, checking the blind spots. And if you asked him what he was looking for, he would have given you a glare rather than speaking. This man is not sociable. He’s very distant. He likely wouldn’t have looked you in the eye.”

The clerk shook his head.

“No, nobody like that.” He explained. “That lady - she was my first customer in, like, hours. She just bought her ciggies and left. And I thought it was weird cause she bought a lighter too. Most smokers already have a lighter on them.”

“I didn’t know Y/N smoked.” Prentiss said quietly.

“Me either.” Hotch confirmed.

Hotch’s attention was captured by a screen behind the counter - surveillance feed, showing several different places inside the store. There was one camera just outside the door. If he wasn’t mistaken, that camera was pointed at that ‘blind spot’ in the parking lot.

Without asking permission, he raised the partition and walked around the counter, his eyes hyper-focused on the screen.

“Can you get me this footage from a few hours ago?” He prompted toward the clerk. “The view of the parking lot. We need to see what L/N did after she left the store.”

The clerk nodded and began typing things onto the keyboard, and Hotch prompted him to stop when he saw you appear on the footage. Prentiss came around the counter as well, leaving the three of them crowded in close to the small screen as they watched the past version of you.

You walked across the parking lot - toward your car, a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. You were making determined steps - until something stopped you.

“The UnSub caught her attention.” Prentiss noted.

Then - something entirely strange happened. While staring at the man off screen, you leaned against your car, and began ashing your cigarette, as if chatting idly with him.

“He’s not using force.” Hotch thought aloud. “Do you think he’s got a gun trained on her?”

“Maybe.” Prentiss hummed quietly.

He was out of the frame, so it was only a guess.

Then, after a few moments of this - you simply walked off. You walked in the direction he had been standing.

“Did - did she just go with him willingly?” Prentiss gaped, entirely in shock.

When she glanced over her shoulder, Hotch was gone.

He stormed out into the parking lot, frantically gazing around. Prentiss followed him, chasing his chaotic energy.

“Hotch!” She called out. “Hotch-!”

“We need more camera angles! We need-”

“Calm down.” She urged, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” He rasped. “Why would she go with him willingly? Why - why? Why would she?” He was frantic. “He must have threatened her. He must have-”

They both didn’t want to think of the obvious.

That you didn’t fear him. That - it hadn’t even been an abduction.

“He must have threatened her.” Prentiss easily agreed. “She wouldn’t have gone with him otherwise.”

They didn’t bring up the fact that you had a gun and plenty of training on how to use it. They didn’t bring up the fact that the profile said the UnSub couldn’t easily charm - he would have kidnapped you by force.

Unless you were special. Unless he thought he could talk to you specifically for some reason.

“Guys, what’s the news?” JJ asked, finally walking onto the scene.

She hated the grave looks on Prentiss and Hotch’s faces.

“I want you to put a press conference together.” Hotch said, straightening himself out and turning to her. “Make an appeal for witnesses. Tell them that there’s been a woman abducted in the area, but don’t tell them that L/N a Federal Agent. It could set the UnSub off if he believes that this abduction is being treated with a higher priority. If he feels a higher pressure from law enforcement, he might-”

“Right.” JJ nodded. Hotch didn’t need to say the words in order for her to understand. “So: release her name and her photo, but act like she’s just a regular civilian?”

Hotch nodded. “Exactly.”

“If I get going now, I think I could still make the eleven o’clock news.” JJ said, rushing off with her cell pressed to her ear.

“Let’s just hope that it brings Y/N home safely.”

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 8:03PM.

You felt an odd amount of relief having nicotine in your system again.

This was the first time you had smoked a cigarette in years. You had quit the habit shortly after you joined the FBI Academy when one of your advisers warned you that it might cause you to fail the fitness test. And you felt like you should just knock the habit, seeing as the only reason you had taken it up was because of… him.

But - all of this was so triggering. Being back in your same small shitty town. Feeling it suffocating you like a plastic bag.

The murders.

You sucked on the cigarette for dear life as you walked back to your car, and just as you were about to get in - the windows of the car open, inviting in the sweet summer air, the keys still inside because you did feel an odd amount of trust in your hometown - something captured your attention.

“Y/N.”

Hearing your name in that voice made you freeze on the spot. The warm breeze felt like ice against your skin as you took your hand off the door handle, turning toward him.

“You’re lookin’ gorgeous as ever, darlin’.”

“You.” You ground out the word with as much disdain as possible, hot rage boiling in your blood as you looked at him. “I should have known it was you.”

He let out a sharp chuckle - a sound that made your throat tighten up. He flicked his tongue out across his teeth, grinning his terrible Cheshire grin at you.

A hand instinctively went for your gun, and your palm hit an empty section of your belt. He let out another sharp chuckle when his eyes followed yours, making the same realization that you did.

You had left it sitting on the passenger’s seat of the car. Right beside your phone.

You wondered if you could dive through the open window before he could get to you. When he made a posturing move, brushing his unbuttoned plaid shirt away and revealing the gun he had strapped to his belt underneath - you realized he would shoot you if you moved too quickly.

You were stuck.

“Of course it’s me, baby.” He said, casually replying to your earlier words. “You had to know that I did all this for you. For us.”

Giving into your fate, you propped yourself against the side of the car - trying desperately to steady your wobbling legs without making it look like you were doing so. You tapped your cigarette, spilling some of the ash before you brought it to your lips once again.

“I missed you like hell.” He told you with a snakeskin grin.

“I didn’t miss you.” You bitterly fired back. “Not for a fucking second.”

“Guess I made it difficult to miss me, huh?” He said, cocky as ever. “With my frequent correspondence and all?”

“You know what I meant.” You fired back.

You glared at him sharply but didn’t say anything more, afraid that he would whip the gun out and shoot you.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, something that sounded utterly sarcastic.

“Ooh, darlin’ that’s harsh.” He said. “That would almost hurt. If I didn’t know the truth.”

You wanted to argue. You took in another large drag to help hold your tongue. You knew the results of arguing with him - it wasn’t worth it.

“So… I think you know how this goes.” He announced. “You can come with me now. Or… I can go get another girl.”

“No more girls.” You told him. “I’m here now. You won. Whatever business you have - it’s with me.”

You stamped out your cigarette as you walked toward him, and your phone began to ring on the front seat as his truck rumbled to life and pulled out of the parking lot.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 7:26PM.

“Hello! Everyone, listen up.” Hotch called everyone to attention as the local police continued to filter in, most of them standing around with cups of coffee in hand or notebooks out, ready to take notes. “We’re ready to give the profile.”

“Yes, and please keep in mind that this is just a general set of guidelines describing the suspect.” Rossi said. “This is not a concrete list of things you should be looking for. A profile is more useful in the elimination of suspects, rather than the inclusion of them.”

He then turned to Derek, who began reciting the profile that the team had put together so far.

“This UnSub, or Unknown Subject, is most likely a white male in his thirties to forties.” Morgan explained. “He drives an American made vehicle, something large enough to conceal and transport victims, and something that has off-road capability in order to get to the more secluded areas where some of the bodies were found. So think trucks, heavy duty vans, anything with thick treads on the tires and a large payload. And his vehicle will most likely be in a more discreet color. This guy won’t be driving around in something flashy. He’ll be in something that blends into the background, like a beige or black truck.”

“So what?” One of the local cops piped up. “We put out an APB for every single heavy duty black truck in the area? This is the south, do you have any idea how many people around here drive a truck? Especially ones driven by men in their forties.”

“There’s more.” Hotch noted, looking toward you.

“This UnSub likely believes that he is dating these women in some capacity before he kills them.” You explained. “He has left scraps of poetry at the scenes, pages of romance novels - several of the victims had wine in their stomachs or burns from candle wax on their skin. And it’s highly likely that he turns violent when the women reject his advances, or don’t live up to the fictionalized relationship he has made up about them in his mind.”

“How does that help us?” Someone asked.

“Well, it’s very likely that he frequents the same hunting grounds.” Rossi explained. “We encourage you to go to local bars, and nightclubs, even gyms or cafes and pass out the profile to women who fit this type.” He said, motioning toward the pictures of the other victims. “He will be on the hunt again soon, and he has a very narrow hunting ground, living in such a lowly populated area. So we might be able to catch him off guard if his potential victims have the profile as well.”

“This man is romantic, but he’s not charming.” You added on. “He isn’t sociable. He’s very cocky, very self-centered. He believes that he is God’s gift to women, and he has a very fractured sense of reality in general. If women reject him in everyday interactions, he will get noticeably irritated, and even violent. So he will be remembered as an unpleasant person in most women’s stories.”

“This UnSub most likely has an inside knowledge of law enforcement.” Reid stated. “But, because he has a very antisocial personality, he wouldn’t do well working with the public. We currently have our analyst combing through files of those who flunked out of the police academy or live in the area and are retired from the military in some capacity. We believe that he might have even been in prison for an unrelated crime or institutionalized at some point, giving him a close look at the inner workings of law enforcement, and also attributing to the large break between the first two crimes.”

Reid took a breath, and then continued on.

“He was knowledgeable enough to purposefully dump one of the bodies across state lines in order to get the FBI involved in this case, but it was just one of the bodies, and it was dumped in a very well trackied area where it would be found. So that leaves a heavy insistence that he was fed-up with the local police not giving his case enough attention or - simply not being smart enough to keep up with him.” He explained.

“He is very cocky.” Prentiss added on. “Incredibly over-confident. He is a narcissist to his core, and he believes that he will never be caught unless he wants to be. He thinks that he has an intricate cat-and-mouse game with law enforcement, and he can go off the grid and disappear at any time that he wants.”

“Well… isn’t that true?” One of the cops asked. “I mean, the guy’s been at it for years and we still haven’t caught him. There’s no DNA, no real leads.”

Hotch hummed, nodding. And then he walked over to the evidence board and motioned to the pictures of the two most recent victims - barely recognizable compared to the shining, smiling photos their families had provided.

“We believe that he’s decompensating.” Hotch explained. “He is growing more violent toward each victim, which means that he is getting more sloppy - eventually, he will go off-book. He will break his routine in some way, and that will be the moment he’ll give us something to catch him with.”

“So… you’re just waiting for him to kill again so you can actually catch the guy?” Someone asked sharply.

“No.” You easily replied. “We’re praying it doesn’t come to that.”

“Thank you everyone.” Hotch said, clearing his throat, giving an unconscious signal for everyone to disperse. “That’ll be all for now.”

Everyone easily fell under his authority, and meandered back to what they had been doing before, now armed with the profile and ready to distribute it to members of the public, to the potential victims.

You had a harshly, sickly feeling in your stomach as you gathered some of your files. It was the same feeling that had been turning your guts into knots since you had arrived back in Madison for the first time in years. Your eye accidentally caught the evidence board - the tall, intimidating wall lined with the gruesome photos of all the women.

Women who looked strangely like you. Same hair color, same skin tone, same body type. All of them horribly brutalized and left for dead. All of them terrorized, tortured right up until their last moments.

“Hey.”

JJ’s voice snapped you out of your swirling dark cloud of thoughts, drawing your eyes away from the evidence board with a gentle hand on your upper arm. You huffed out a harsh breath as you let her guide you, turning around to face the blonde woman as she stared you down with a distinct look of concern knit across her features.

“Are you okay?” She asked. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

She had a point. You had been doing this job for some time. You had gone to the FBI Academy straight out of college, after getting a degree in criminal forensics. And none of it ever bothered you. You had learned about the study of blood spatter and the decomposition of bodies on live body farms, and you never flinched.

But this case - it was getting to you.

It was likely the first time anybody on the team had ever seen you so disturbed.

“I’m fine.” You lied, trying to shrug off her touch.

“Come on.” JJ sighed in return. “I don’t need to be a profiler to figure out that was a big fat lie.”

You rolled your eyes at this.

“You’re so brilliant.” You let out a sigh of your own, and put down your files on the nearby conference room table. You stretched out your back, deciding that you would give her an inch, hoping that she wouldn’t take a mile. “I’m freaked out. So what? Doesn’t everybody have room for a bad day?”

“Of course.” She nodded. “Of course, you can have a bad day.” Her lips pursed, and you knew there was more coming. “Is - is it anything more than that?”

“I’m tired.” You lied again, hoping she wouldn’t call you out on it this time. “It’s been - what? More than twenty hours since we landed. For these guys it’s been years, searching for this bastard. I wanna catch him.”

“We will.” JJ assured you, sounding rather dull in her declaration.

“I’m gonna drive down the street and grab an energy drink or something.” You announced, grabbing your blazer off a nearby chair and putting it on. Not that you would need a jacket with the southern weather - but your cash and your keys were in the pockets.

“I thought you quit Redbull.” She chuckled.

“It’s been one of those days.” You replied, shaking your head as you walked out of the room.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 5:13PM.

“There’s still one thing that’s buggin’ the hell out of me.” Morgan announced as he walked back into the room with a fresh cup of coffee in hand.

“That is?” You posed, looking up from the stack of personal files - potential suspects - that you were reading in order to engage him in the conversation.

“What is with the two year hiatus from this guy?” He said, motioning to the board.

The first victim had been abducted and killed all the way back in the summer of ‘99, but none of the other victims matched up until a missing person from September of 2001. And from there, the killings picked up in frequency - and the killer had taken over twenty six victims in and around Madison up until now.

“It is weird.” You commented. “Usually after the first kill is when an UnSub is the most hungry for more. After that first taste for violence.”

Morgan raised a brow at your strange choice of words and you shrugged it off.

“Maybe he was hospitalized.” Reid said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere to make this comment, studying the board with his own intense expression. “Institutionalized? Maybe he was arrested for something completely unrelated, like - drugs, outstanding traffic violations?”

“That’s helpful.” You sighed.

“It could be.” Reid replied, sipping his own coffee. “I mean, we theorized that this UnSub has pre-existing knowledge of law enforcement - if he was in prison, maybe he was reading up on the law while he was in there? Who has closer knowledge of the law than ex-cons?”

“Good point.” Morgan nodded. “I’ll call Garcia and have her widen the search.”

“She is gonna love that.” You mumbled under your breath, already frustrated with the large pile of potential suspects you had to go through.

Morgan took out his cell and walked into the other room, and you heard a distant ‘hey mama!’ as he chirped to Garcia on the other end.

Then, you heard another voice that was all too familiar to you.

“See, you’ve all just been working so hard, I thought you could use some sustenance!”

It was your mother.

You rushed out of your seat to find her in the middle of the bullpen, handing out muffins from a large basket that she had in her hand.

It wasn’t entirely surprising to you, but it made your stomach sink. She was too much of a social butterfly for your liking. She knew about the last time you had been in this police station, she talked too much. No. You couldn’t risk her telling anyone.

“See, that one’s blueberry, you like blueberry?” She was chatting idly, being her usual overly social self.

“Yes, thank you so much Ms. L/N,” Prentiss smiled as your mother pushed more food into her hands.

“Oh please, call me-”

You knew that you must have looked like a storm, walking toward her with a scowl on your face.

“Ma!” You barked, much harsher than you meant to, causing her to look up at you abruptly. “Ma? What are you doing here?”

“Well see, you’ve been here all day, and you’ve been working so hard, so I made dinner for you and your friends,” She grinned, motioning toward a large tinfoil tray filled with mac and cheese that she had placed onto one of the desks next to a stack of paper plates and plastic forks. Naturally, a chunk of it was already missing.

You wanted to scream when Reid walked over and began scooping out a portion for himself.

“Ma, they’re not my friends, they’re my co-workers.” You said, exasperation ripe in your voice.

You knew that this, too, ended up sounding much harsher than you had intended. As if you didn’t think of these people as friends. But you couldn’t stand the woman babying you. It’s not like she did much of that when you were an actual baby.

“I’m an adult now, and-” You continued on, and she cut you off.

“Oh yes, yes.” She nodded, reaching out to pinch your cheek in an utterly frustrating way. “Your co-workers.”

“Please, Ma.” You sighed. “You can’t be here right now. This is a police station, not a bake sale.”

“She can stay for a few minutes, can’t she?” Prentiss grinned, peeling the wrapper off her muffin. “We can take a break for dinner. I wanna hear some childhood stories about you.”

Reid looked up eagerly at this, and you glared at both of them.

“Oh, you should hear about the time she painted her face blue with the paint from-” Your mother began to tell a delightful embarrassing story, but you cut her off.

“No.” You said sharply. “I’m sorry, but we have work to do. Important work. Once we actually catch the guy, I’ll bring everyone by the house for tea and cookies and you can show everyone my naked baby pictures, the whole nine yards. Just - not now.”

You unceremoniously ripped the basket of muffins out of her hands and placed them on the desk beside the tray of mac and cheese, and she began to argue with you, calling you rude, telling you that she had raised you with better manners while you ushered her out the door.

Prentiss and Reid exchanged a particular, concerned look as they watched you and your mother argue through the glass doors of the precinct.

“Now what do you think that was all about?” Emily asked quietly.

“For once, I have no idea.” Spencer mumbled in return.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Georgia Highway 72 - Madison, GA. 1:32PM.

“This is new.” Morgan noted as the two of you walked away from the SVU, approaching the dumpsite where the latest victim’s body had been found. “This guy doesn’t usually dump bodies out in the open. You think he was in a rush?”

The two of you had been sent to check it out while Hotch and Prentiss spoke to the family, and the others went over evidence from the many pre-existing cases at the station.

“Not likely.” You replied. “Preliminary report says there’s still no DNA, no skid marks from his tires, no shoe prints. He’s not getting sloppy.” You felt a sickly wave of vomit splash up as you looked at the woman - her ankles sticking out of the tall grass just off the edge of the highway, where she had been left, entirely visible for anybody passing by to see. “This was a present. Like a fuckin’ cat leaving a dead mouse on the porch. He wanted us to find her. And he wanted us to find her quickly.”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Morgan noted, tentatively stepping into the grass and gently moving the long spokes of greenery back to get a better look at the victim. “He’s definitely escalating.”

You crouched down to get a better look yourself, and you had to agree.

Her face was almost entirely caved in, but it appeared to be from a series of blunt hits, and not from a singular swing with a heavy object. Between the pre-mortem swelling and the post-mortem rage, where he had continued to mutilate her even after her death, she was practically unrecognizable from the photo that her family had provided you with. The only reason the team had been able to confirm her identity for sure was that she had been reported missing, and she had been found wearing a unique custom charm bracelet that her parents could confirm belonged to her.

You wished that you could guarantee they would never see her body in this state.

“What’s that?” Morgan wondered aloud.

You hummed back in confusion.

Before you could wonder any further about what he meant, he reached out and gently pried open the victim’s mouth, fishing out a small piece of plastic that he had seen sticking out from the corner of her swollen, bruised lips. He had to fight to get it out of her stiff, death rigored body, but when he was able to - a small plastic bag came out of her mouth.

A small plastic bag containing a piece of white paper.

“What the hell?” Morgan mumbled quietly.

Naturally, he opened the bag and took out the paper, and you looked on with nervous curiosity as he read what was on the note.

“You are the stars hidden by clouds.” He read aloud. “I know you’re there even when I can’t see you. Your shine peeks out and reaches me in the depths of my soul. Tell me your arms are long enough to reach me across oceans. Tell me someday we will be together, somehow, some way. Tell me that this love we have can survive being together as well as we’ve survived being apart. Tell me we are more than the chasm of our divide.”

Bile splashed up in your throat.

You hated that the quote was distinctly familiar to you. You hated how you knew it.

You could still hear his voice in your head, and it made your bones quake.

“Hmm.” Morgan looked over the paper thoughtfully. “It’s another page ripped out of a book. Just like the other one. I’ll call Garcia and have her look it up, maybe-”

“You don’t have to.” You said, hoping that your throat wasn’t too painfully constricted around your words. “It’s Jacqueline Simon Gunn.”

Morgan easily saw the haunted look behind your eyes - the years old terror that you were having a much harder time suppressing now.

Oddly enough, it was a feeling that he knew well. Perhaps that’s why he saw it in you so easily.

“You alright?” He bothered to ask, even though he knew the answer was ‘no’.

“I’m fine.” You lied. “We should bring this back to everyone else.”

You rushed away from the crime scene like a bat out of hell, and even though he knew he should have pressed further - he let you.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 10:08AM.

“Good morning, y’all.”

The BAU was greeted by Chief Dalton, the Madison County Chief of Police, as you all filed into the small police department.

“You can set up in the conference room over there, I hope we got y’all everything you need.” He said, flashing a warm, welcoming smile.

“This looks fine, thank you.” JJ said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” She pointed to him, and he nodded in return - of course, rather than shaking hands. “This is Special Agent Emily Prentiss, Agent Rossi, and Agent L/N. Our Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner and Special Agent Morgan will be here later - they wanted to go and interview some of the families of the victims, get some more background information.”

“L/N?” He motioned toward you, his eyes becoming fixated on you as you set down your bag and lifted one of the lids off the boxes to get a glance at some of the files. “That name sounds awful familiar to me - are you from Madison?”

“Oh yes, I am,” You grinned at him, stepping forward and giving him a handshake, to which he grinned back widely. “I grew up here. This is actually my first time back in years.”

“Well, welcome home.” He said. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Me too.” You easily agreed.

You thought that would be the end of it, until:

“You know I hardly recognized you. Such a pretty face, but the last time I saw you, you was beat to a darn pulp.” He remarked, giving a pained chuckle.

Your stomach swelled with anxiety, and it felt like a pure balloon of concrete sitting inside of you. You felt all the eyes in the room on you - Rossi, JJ, Emily, Spencer - all of them staring you down as this man aired your dirty laundry like it was as casual as the weather report.

“You came through here - what was it, the summer of ‘99? I’ll never forget that assault report. I’m surprised you can still see out of that right eye of yours, with the way-”

“Coffee?” You cut him off when you managed to find your voice, rushing to change the subject and praying he would get the hint. “Where can I get a coffee around here? Long flight. And we’ve had an early morning. Long flight, going over the case.”

You didn’t even realize you were tripping over your own words, repeating yourself in a rush to fill the air so he wouldn’t speak about the past anymore.

“Oh, it’s right through there. In the break room.” He said, motioning vaguely behind him.

“Would you mind showing me, please?”

You knew it was cowardly, but you were now desperate to escape your colleagues, and wanted to drag the Chief away before he spilled anything else from his loose lips.

He escorted you out of the room and it was only a mere moment before conversation ensued about the strange thing that had just happened.

“Am I gonna be the first person to say ‘what the hell’?” Rossi asked, looking around to his teammates, who all had equally shocked and confused expressions.

“It’s a small town. These people don’t exactly understand secrecy. Or tact.” JJ sighed.

“Yeah, but why would Y/N keep that a secret from us?” Spencer asked, frowning. “If she was assaulted-”

“Yeah, in the summer of ‘99.” Emily pressed. “That was a long time ago. Have you told everyone on the team every little detail about your life from ten years ago?”

“Eight years.” Spencer easily corrected her.

“Whatever.” Emily rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to profile her. We’re here to catch another scumbag and leave.”

There seemed to be a resounding nod at this.

“If she wants to tell us about what happened, she will.” Rossi added on.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Outskirts of Madison - Madison, GA. 9:52AM.

“There’s my beautiful girl.”

He had a perfect view of you through the scope of his gun.

Of course, he would never hurt you. There was no bullet in that gun that was intended for you. This was just the perfect way to see you. Up close and personal. Just the way he liked it.

This was the first time he had seen you in so long. You wore your makeup differently now - your hair was a bit different. But you were still his girl.

“You’re gonna love the present I left for ya.”

You spoke his language - violence.

You wrote your life in blood, just like he did.

You were perfect. His perfect girl.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Inside the BAU Jet - Somewhere Above America. 7:12AM.

“So, the ME dates eight of these victims from within the last year alone?” Prentiss questioned, looking over some of the files on the table in front of her.

“Well, it’s difficult to tell with the soil erosion and the heavy rain that the area had recently, but they are significantly less decomposed than the others.” JJ explained.

“What I don’t understand,” Morgan noted. “Why would he give up his gig now? I mean, twenty four victims in a mass grave in the middle of the woods, and he leaves a twenty-fifth victim in the middle of the road, clearly intending for police to find it. With a damn note attached, giving up the exact coordinates of his mass dumpsite. Why?”

“It is strange.” Reid agreed. “Typically, whenever killers have contact with the police, it is to taunt them for their inability to get caught, believing that the police are stupid and they as killers are invincible.” He said. Naturally, this rolled into a rant as more facts came to mind about the subject.

“Serial killer Dennis Rader, also known as the BTK killer, standing for Blind, Torture, Kill - he taunted police with letters over a period of three decades, between 1974 and 1991, each one that he sent to the local police simply saying ‘good luck hunting’.” Reid explained. “Occasionally, he would send them graphic descriptions of how he had posed the bodies at each crime scene. And he was only caught when a floppy disc he sent to a local television station was traced back to a computer that he had used at his church.”

Reid laughed at this revelation, finding it amusing. With all eyes staring at him, he reached the realization that this wasn’t helpful to the case at hand - and then he easily clammed up.

“So, this UnSub gives up the dumpsite because… he’s feeling remorseful? He wants to get caught?” Rossi theorized.

“The level of violence across these recent victims has no indication of remorse.” You replied. “One of the bodies found at the dumpsite was missing over half her teeth, and had all ten of her fingers broken in multiple places. Seemingly pre-mortem.”

There was a heavy silence at this.

“Perhaps he’s feeling ignored,” Hotch posed. “He feels like his crimes aren’t being well covered by the media and he wants glory. He finally wants recognition for what he’s done.”

“Well, wouldn’t he have sent some kind of manifesto or another letter to the police?” Morgan posed. “And it seems like the guy went through a whole lot of trouble for a long time, trying not to get caught. He buried them out in the woods, secluded. Wrapped them in plastic, scrubbed the bodies clean so there’s absolutely no DNA. Doesn’t seem like someone looking for glory to me.”

“Not to mention that he wrote the coordinates for the dumpsite on the back of a page ripped out of a novel.” Rossi said, squinting down at one of the files - a close up forensic photo that had been sent over by the local police department.

Prentiss held out her hand, and Rossi handed over the photo, and then she began reading the words off the page aloud.

“-I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy, but-”

“-but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” You finished the quote before she could, the words flashing through your mind with a sickly twist in your gut. It was all too familiar to you, in the worst way. “It’s Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austin.”

Everyone fixated on you with a strange gaze, wondering how you knew this off the top of your head. Especially when usually this would only be something that Reid would be able to recite so perfectly by heart.

“Maybe he thinks that he’s romancing these women?” Prentiss theorized, trying to move on from the strange moment.

“That’s plausible.” Hotch agreed. “When we land, Morgan and I will go interview some of the families. JJ, get us their contacts. I want to know if any of these women had problems with an ex boyfriend or even a bad date whom they rejected. It could be someone they once viewed as a potential romantic partner that went horribly wrong.”

JJ nodded at this, going to look through her files for the information.

“This level of torture - it’s likely a substitute for sexual gratification.” Morgan theorized, looking at the crime scene photos one again. “Maybe he is romancing these women, but in his mind, this is the ultimate form of romance? Having all of his conquests together in death - it’s a declaration of what a casanova he is. In his fractured world.”

“It still doesn’t explain why he gave up the dumpsite to the police.” Prentiss argued.

“Men like to brag about their sexual exploits.” Rossi said, nodding toward Morgan. “If these women are his conquests, in his mind, then he wants his manliness, his accomplishments, to be appreciated by other men.”

Prentiss sharply rolled her eyes at this.

“Well, at least we know our UnSub’s not a woman.” She remarked sharply.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:15AM.

JJ stood at the front of the room, ready to present the newest case to everyone.

“Last night, a body was discovered on the backroads of South Carolina, about five miles outside of the town of Delph. She was found naked, mutilated. Heavy bruising all over her body that insinuates the killer kept her and tortured her for days. Final cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma from multiple hits to the head, but she also had several shallow stab wounds across her body, seemingly from some kind of hunting knife with a rough blade.”

JJ explained, beginning to present the case as she clicked the small remote, causing images of the crime scene to pop up on the large screen in the room.

“The victim - now identified as Ashley Prembrooke, hadn’t even been reported missing. She left her parents house in Madison, Georgia, about three days ago to drive back to her dorm at the University of South Carolina. When she didn’t show up on time, her roommate assumed that she was staying at home for a few extra days. Her father has cancer, so she wanted to be there for him.”

There seemed to be a particularly dark aura in the room at this news.

“Did the killer know that she wouldn’t be reported missing, or did he just snatch her up by chance?” Morgan asked.

“Her car was found abandoned at a rest stop a few miles from the border of Georgia.” JJ explained. “So… it seems to be random.”

“Well, I hate to ask this,” Rossi said. “But why are we being called out for just one body?”

“That’s the thing.” JJ sighed.

She clicked the clicker again, and several close-up photos appeared. Photos of the victim’s mutilated body - among the harsh bruising on her torso, there was a piece of white paper, partially stained with blood. It had been folded and stapled into her flesh.

“The victim was found with this page… stapled into her skin.” JJ said, clearly finding the words disturbing to speak aloud. “Written on the back, was a set of coordinates. Local police discovered that these coordinates lead to a random patch of woods, about ten miles outside of Madison, Georgia.”

JJ queued more pictures onto the screen. It was those very woods - overturned dirt. And more than a dozen bodies, wrapped in plastic among the soil.

“It was the site of a mass grave with twenty-four other victims - all women around the same age, with the most recent ones all having the same body type, the same hair color, same general makeup as Ashley Prembrooke.”

“He has a type.” Hotch stated the obvious.

“And for some reason, he tipped the police off to his hiding place.” JJ reminded them all.

“Twenty four victims?” Prentiss questioned, clearly shocked by this number.

“That’s what they’ve found so far. The decomposition on some of the bodies seems to go back as far as a decade, but it’s difficult to date them exactly.” JJ replied.

“So… the guy is experienced, hasn’t been caught in years, and he hands over his honey pot to the cops? Is he trying to get caught? Is he feeling guilty?” Rossi posed.

“No, not with that level of violence. There’s no remorse there.” Morgan replied.

“He dumped Ashley Prembrooke over state lines. We could be looking at somebody with an incredibly wide hunting ground who gave up one of many dumpsites as a way to taunt police.” Hotch theorized.

“That doesn’t seem to be the case.” JJ explained. “So far, eight of the most recent victims have been matched up with missing persons reports, all of them women from Madison. All within the last year alone. It seems like he targeted Ashley because she was from Madison - that’s his comfort zone.”

When the pictures of the missing women - now confirmed dead, murdered violently, popped up on screen, your throat tightened.

You had known at least two of them. You had gone to school with them. You had seen them cheer proudly at high school pep rallies - you had known them lively and bright. And now they were bones rotting in the soil, taken by some monster.

Beyond that, there was an alarming trend.

They looked like you. You couldn’t deny that. Same hair color, same body type, same skin tone.

And they were from your hometown.

Between this, and the letter, the morning was getting to be too much for you. You wanted to believe it was all a series of terrible coincidences, but…

Looking across the roundtable at you, Reid was the only one who saw that sickly look come over your face. He was desperate to know what was troubling you.

“Reid?” Hotch got his attention, finding it strange that the overly talkative man was quiet this morning. “You’ll work the geographical profile?”

“Yes.” Reid nodded, finally taking his eyes off you. “It’s unusual for the killer to hunt wider than a five hundred mile radius from home. So it’s likely that he lives, works, and operates all within Madison.”

“Good. We could be looking at a copy-cat who knew about the previous killer’s dumpsite, or… something else entirely. But we need to get on the ground there and find out.” Hotch said. “Wheels up in thirty.”

Everyone dispersed from the table when Hotch finalized with this, and you found yourself much dizzier than you realized as you tried to stand. As everyone moved to their desks to gather their things, you moved to the counter to get a coffee - hoping to calm your nerves.

“Y/N.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Reid’s voice came from behind you - your own blood was pumping in your ears, and seemingly, he had snuck up behind you. But his usually quiet footsteps simply couldn’t be heard beyond the nagging thump of your own anxiety.

“What?” You barked back, knowing it was far too harsh.

“Are - are you alright?” He asked, hesitant to bother you with the question.

“I’m fine.” You lied as you dumped the sugar packets into your cup, your shaking hands accidentally spilling some across the counter top.

“Are you sure?” Reid pressed.

You let out a heavy sigh and turned to face him, crossing your arms heavily over your chest.

“What?” You said the word again, sternly, glaring at him.

All he did was give you a soft, understanding expression in return.

You hated it.

You hated how he was so open - it was almost horrifying, how you could have easily told him what was bothering you.

Sweet, accepting, understanding Reid.

If you told him the truth, he probably would have told you some statistic that he found comforting. It would have been sweet, coming from him. But then, he would have been looking at you with those eyes all damn day, holding pity in his heart and not truly focusing on the work that needed to get done.

“Can you look at the shit we see every single day and always be okay with it?”

You easily made up an excuse, pretending you were rattled by the crime scene photos, even though this murder was no more graphic in nature than any other you had been subjected to seeing recently.

“I’m human. So what?”

Reid studied your face carefully. He saw guilt dancing in your eyes - the way you gently bit your lip was your tell for lying, that much he knew from playing many rounds of poker with you on the plane rides home.

But he felt that simply nagging you more wouldn’t get the truth out of you. Not right now.

“Okay.” He acquiesced. “I know it’s hard. If you ever need someone to talk to-”

You stormed off, accidentally slamming into his shoulder on the way along in your haste to escape the conversion. Reid heavily eyed the cup of coffee that you had left cooling on the counter before he turned and left himself.

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:04AM.

You walked into the bullpen with your bag on your arm, sipping a strong coffee in a travel mug you had brought from home.

“You look tired.” Emily commented as you walked over to your desk. “Late night?”

You moaned in reply, not yet ready to let go of nursing your coffee mug, taking a few more long gulps as you took the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slung it into your chair.

“Last night, the fire alarm in my building went off at 3am.” You told her, finally surrendering the mug and putting it down on your desk. “I was out of bed in a panic, barely awake, went into the hallway to evacuate - and the sprinklers had gone off. So I ended up standing outside for more than an hour in my little jammies, soaking wet, and it turns out - some teenager from the third floor pulled the alarm because he was having an argument with his mom. He didn’t want to go to summer school.”

“Yikes.” Derek commented. “Well, you know, if you ever need a calm, cozy place to sleep, you can always give me a call. And you can bring your little jammies.” He told you with a wink. You rolled your eyes, knowing that flirting was his default. “As long as you don’t mind Clooney licking at your toes in the mornin’.”

That almost made it sound more appealing. You did love that dog.

“You know, a study was done at the University of New Hampshire that concluded that twenty to thirty minute windows of sleep actually optimize the human brain for functionality the most.” Spencer added on, leaning back in his chair at his desk as he explained this.

“The schedule of a ten to twelve hour work day, followed by an eight hour sleep period has only been instituted in society as a commonality since the industrial revolution. And it doesn’t actually flow with how the human brain has been optimized by evolution. Before that, most people optimized their lives around a wake-sleep period of three to four hours, taking care of chores in the morning, participating in a midday nap, and then socializing in the evening and partaking in community events before sleeping again in the evening. And most communities functioned around people sleeping and waking at vastly different times rather than everyone having one collective morning routine.” He concluded, giving you a smile.

You found his rambling fascinating, but you found it ironic that you could barely process half of what he had said - because you were too tired.

“Well, unfortunately we can’t all live in villages and pick berries for a living.” Emily remarked with a yawn.

The conversation shifted when Penelope walked in, and gave you a bright smile.

“Good morning, pretty girl.” She greeted you.

“Mornin’, Penny G.” You replied.

“This arrived on the mailcart for you, postmarked from a few days ago, stamped express. I figured you’d want to have eyes on it as soon as possible.” She told you, handing you a very average looking white envelope.

You weren’t sure why, but it invoked a strange feeling in your gut.

The moment that you saw the handwriting on your front - the script that made up your name.

The way he had written it.

Bile rose up in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it back down. All eyes in the room immediately knew that something was wrong.

“What is it?” Emily asked.

“Nothing.” You quickly replied.

You didn’t even want to open it, but bitter curiosity was eating at you.

How the hell had he found your work address? He knew where you worked now?

“I’m gonna - bathroom.” You mumbled an excuse as you rushed back out of the room again, practically fleeing toward the bathroom, leaving all eyes on your shadow.

In particular, Spencer’s eyes followed you hard as you retreated. He wondered how a simple letter could upset you so much.

You secluded yourself safely in a locked stall, your heart thumping in your chest as you began to tear into the letter. The envelope turned to sinew in your hands with your anxious inability to open it properly. In a few moments, you pulled out the piece of paper with a shaking hand, and dropped the shredded envelope onto the floor.

You barely managed to read its contents through tearful eyes.

Lover,

Fate has sent us on such different paths, but I will be with you again soon.

I still miss you every single day. I remember your smell.

I know none of the men you have spent your recent years with can measure up to me, which is why I have set you on the path back to me.

“I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but like everybody else, it must be in my own way.”

-Daniel

Your chest caved in when you realized that there was something taped to the corner of the page.

You recognized the piece of dark cloth in an instant.

It was from that night. He had kept it.

You couldn’t keep the bile down that time. You turned to the toilet and puked up a horrible swirl of black coffee and half a toaster waffle that you had scarfed down while getting dressed for work.

When you had just barely caught your breath, you heard the door to the bathroom creak open.

“Y/N?” Emily called out your name. “Are you in here?”

You didn’t answer.

Instead, you heaved a large glob of putrid spit into the toilet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice now coming from right outside the stall you were in.

“I’m fine.” You handed out that lie, not knowing how many times in the next day you were going to be saying it.

“You don’t sound fine.” Emily told you. “I thought I heard you throwing up.”

“Bad sushi.” You lied. “Stopped by the corner store on my way home. You know I never cook. Food poisoning is usually 50/50 with that kind of shit. Just another thing to add to my great night, right?”

You let out a sour, sarcastic chuckle, but Emily didn’t follow suit.

You knew that you would have to face her sooner or later, so you wiped your mouth again and then turned and unlocked the stall door.

“I’ll be fine.” You told her, throwing her a very fake smile.

“Yeah.” She said, tone flat, entirely disbelieving. “Would it have anything to do with that?”

She motioned to the letter, which you had almost forgotten was crumbled up in your fist.

“Can I see?”

You didn’t even consider how suspicious it would be, but as her hand moved toward the paper, you ripped it up and tossed it into the toilet, grabbing the envelope up off the floor and tossing it into the mess of paper and vomit as well before you flushed it all down.

“It’s nothing.” You grunted out, another very poor lie coming from your lips as you exited the stall and moved toward the sinks. “It’s garbage.”

You turned on the tap and leaned down, taking in a mouthful of water to rinse out your mouth while she watched you with careful, piercing eyes.

“It’s kind of pathetic that you’re trying so hard to bullshit me.” Emily remarked. “Not just because we’re both profilers, but because it’s so painfully obvious that something is wrong.”

You swirled the water around your mouth, rinsing it out, and then spit into the sink before you turned the tap off. When you rose up to your full height, you caught Emily’s eye in the mirror - pitying. You hated it.

It was that kind of pity that held you back from telling her the truth.

She reached over to the dispenser and got you some of the paper towel, handing it to you as she spoke again.

“You know you can tell me what’s bothering you, right?” She said, reaching up to put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

There was a small, quiet moment - the words edged on your tongue.

You truly considered just coming out with it.

But then-

A harsh knock on the door cut through the silence.

“Y/N? Em?” JJ poked her head in through the door, clearly looking for the two of you. When she spotted you, she continued on. “I need everybody at the roundtable in five.”

“Let’s get going.” You said, wiping your mouth and then crumpling the paper towel to toss it into the garbage can.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention.

After being given a shoebox full of strange letters by your mother, he had finally pieced it together. He finally realized the secret you had been hiding - the thing that put you right in this killer’s crosshairs.

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.”

He motioned to something in his hands - it was a worn-out old shoebox, something that made everyone curious and confused.

“What the hell is that?” Prentiss asked.

“Come on.” Reid ushered everyone into the conference room, and once the whole team was gathered, he shut the door.

He opened the box and spilled it into the middle of the table, revealing a flood of hand-written letters. JJ stood back in shock, Hotch observed carefully and silently as usual, and Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss began to pick through them while Reid explained his revelation.

“Y/N’s mother gave me these.” He explained. “All of them are addressed to Y/N, and from what I can see, they’re pretty much weekly, and they go back as far as 1999.”

“When the first murder occurred.” Morgan easily pieced the two things together.

“Not only that,” Reid added on. “The first murder took place in August of ‘99.” He said, pointing to the picture of the first known victim on the evidence board. “And I think the first letter, or one of the earliest, is from July of ‘99. At least.”

“So - so she was having correspondence with the killer?” JJ questioned. “What? Was he in prison? Are you saying that Y/N is involved with this in some way?”

“No-” Reid rushed to correct this assumption, and Morgan cut him off.

“She was at Quantico when the latest victims were killed. Even if the guy has a partner, I really don’t take her as bein’ responsible for this.” He said.

“Plus, these don’t exactly read as love letters.” Pretniss pointed out, her expression growing disturbed as she read what the killer had written from the letter in her hands.

“-every day I dream of you, my love. I remember the way you felt underneath me - clawing for your life, desperate. I remember the way you screamed. Tasting your blood for the first time made me feel alive again. I hope the bruises meant as much to you as they did to me.”

“The use of ‘I’ language denotes self importance - the author has a natural narcissistic personality disorder, but he pretends that it’s a fulfilling two-way relationship, when naturally it’s a fixation on someone who could never truly live up to his fantasies.” Reid explained.

The room fell silent as the reality of it hit everyone. You were the target of someone truly dangerous. Someone who was going to kill you when you didn’t perform the fantasy that he had in mind for you.

“She was being stalked.” Reid declared quietly, sounding defeated. “She still is.”

“These killings aren’t someone having separate, individual fantasized relationships with each victim; this is about the killer repeating the same relationship over and over again, performing the same ritual killing in order to relive the same fantasy over again, projecting it onto different women of the same type.” Hotch said, coming to the realization as he stared at the different victims photos on the evidence board with a firm look on his face. “He’s been in love with the same woman in his mind for years, but nobody can live up to the real thing. That’s why he gave up the dump site. Because he wanted to lure her here. He wanted the FBI here, because he wanted to get L/N here.”

“Okay, but the bigger question is: why L/N? What was the incident that got him fixated on her in the first place?” Rossi questioned, asking what was on everyone’s mind.

JJ’s face was struck with horrible realization, and she ran to the door, ripping it open. She screamed the Chief’s name at the top of her lungs until she got the man’s attention, looking entirely crazed to everyone else in the station. Naturally, she didn’t care. He bustled over, scurrying toward her urgent voice, spilling coffee on himself in the process.

“Chief.” JJ breathed out. “You said that Y/N came through the station, and she was beaten up the last time you saw her - when was that?”

“Oh, I dunno?” He creased his brows with concentration, trying to remember. “About ‘98? ‘99?”

“Did she file a report about the incident?” JJ asked.

“Yeah.” The Chief replied. “It was a break-in. Poor thing. Summer vacation, her mother wasn’t home, off with the church on a retreat hittin’ the bingo halls up in Texas. She said that she never saw the attacker, though. He was wearin’ a ski-mask.”

There was a silent exchange among the group that said they knew the truth - you had seen the attacker, you knew him. It’s why you had gone with him willingly this time. But you hadn’t told the police the truth back then because you had been too scared.

“Can you get me that report?” JJ asked.

After too many anxious minutes, the Chief came back with an old file in hand, and JJ snatched it out of his hands with a mumbled thank you before she shut the door in his face once again. She placed it down on the table among the mess of letters, and flipped it open.

“Oh my god.” Emily gasped when she saw the photos inside.

There was a spread of old polaroid photos, pinned to the sides of the file. They were almost too graphic for the team to look at - one showing the damage to your face; both of your eyes bruised, one of them entirely swollen shut. Scratches, deep gashes, harsh bruising all over your body. You were wearing a dark cotton tee shirt with patches ripped out of it - as if someone had been clawing at you and nearly ripped the clothing off your body to keep you from getting away.

“This wasn’t a burglary.” Derek mumbled, frowning as he picked up one of the photos and inspected it closer.

“Get Garcia on the line,” Hotch told JJ.

She dialed the tech’s number on the conference hub, having to unbury the small bit of technology from some papers before she did it. It rang for a few moments before the woman on the other end picked up.

“Where’s our girl?” Garcia asked anxiously, talking about you. “Is there any news? You’re calling because there’s good news, right?”

“Babygirl,” Derek called out, trying to get her to focus, but she trampled right past this and continued to ramble on.

“Please don’t tell me she’s dead!” Garcia shrieked on the other end. “Cause I can’t keep losing people! And I know it’s selfish to say that I can’t lose her, but she’s one of my best friends, and I’m gonna be a mess! And she promised to be the maid of honor and my wedding, and I know I’m not even engaged, and I don’t even have a boyfriend, but I need to have her around for big milestones in my life like that, she’s like the best person I know, and-”

“Garcia, we need you.” Hotch told her firmly, cutting off her emotional ranting.

“Right.” The tech replied, sucking in sharply, trying to catch her breath. There was some scraping in the background - the wheels of her chair on the floor as she scooted her chair into her desk. “What do you need? I’m here.”

“I need you to look up reports of rape in and around Madison County between 1991 and 1999.” Hotch told her.

“Rape?” Garcia replied, seemingly shocked by the topic and how it might relate to the case at hand - how it might relate to you.

“Come on, babygirl.” Derek encouraged her. “Work your magic.”

“Yeah. I got it.” She said hesitantly, and then there was the clacking of her keyboard as she worked.

“Oh. Ugh.”

“What is it?” Rossi was the first to ask.

“There’s over five hundred cases.” Penelope told them, clearly disgusted by this number.

“Can you narrow it down to women in their twenties? With similarities to the victims who have been targeted by the killer. Same hair type, same race, same body type.” Hotch told her.

“Turning on the creep filter.” Garcia said, using her usual sense of humor that she turned on to shield herself. “That leaves us with… about twenty cases.”

“Were any of them prosecuted?” Hotch asked.

“Two of them.” Penelope replied. “A couple of sorority sisters from the University of Georgia were held at gunpoint and raped by a pizzaman in ‘95. He went to trial, got ten years. And he was paroled for good behavior in 2003. Yikes.” Emily rolled her eyes in agreement with his comment. “And shortly after his parole, he crashed his car into a tree in a drunk driving incident. Looks like he’s probably not your guy.”

“What about the other eighteen cases?” Reid asked.

“Um… no.” Garcia replied. “None of them went to court. A lot of these say that the victims were attacked by a stranger… that he broke in through the back door. Hold on.”

“What?” Derek prompted her.

“There is one here. Terry Driver. She said that she was raped, and she identified her rapist as someone she knew - Daniel Matthews. But he was never arrested because his brother gave him an ability for the night of the incident.” Garcia explained.

“I bet that one was air-tight.” Rossi scoffed.

“What type of injuries did the victims have?” Hotch asked.

“Um… nothing major.” Penelope replied. Hotch frowned. “A black eye… a few scratches.” She hesitated. “Ligature marks… from being tied to their beds. God. That sounds like the most horrible night of your life, doesn’t it?”

Hotch shook his head, sweeping a tense hand over his face. “He doesn’t fit the profile.”

“Wait.” Reid swallowed thickly, staring at the photos of you that were sitting in the middle of the table.

Battered. Bruised. Broken.

“Some of the letters refer to him having an awakening. ‘An awakening in my soul. A bond through blood.’” He explained, naturally reciting the words from memory after having only read them once.

“She fought back hard.” He held up one of the photos - one of your arm, showing deep, bloody scratches. Defensive wounds. “She found back so hard - he must have liked it. It-”

“It gave him a taste for violence.” Prentiss finished off the thought, fear written all over her face. “She - she was the one who made him realize that he could use violence to replace sex completely. So he switched from rape to murder.” She came to the shocking realization aloud, her eyes flickering from the photo of you to all the photos scattered across the evidence board - all the victims he had practiced on in the wake of you.

“Oh - oh my god.” Penelope gasped, having heard all of this over the intercom. “He’s gonna kill her? He’s gonna kill Y/N?”

“Garcia, What can you get me on Matthews?” Hotch asked.

“Um, right - Daniel Matthews…” There was more clacking of keys, and then Penelope replied. “He grew up in Madison. Looks like he went to the same high school as Y/N. He used to play football. He has a juvenile record for… vandalism, underage drinking. The usual. Oh…”

“Oh?” JJ wondered aloud.

“He had a very brief stint in the FBI Academy. He was kicked out 2001 when he was accused of sexually harassing fellow female applicants, and he was flagged on the psych eval as having a possible narcissistic personality disorder.” Garcia explained.

“Bingo.” Rossi sighed. “That’s our UnSub.”

“Oh my god. The hiatus.” Morgan said, his eyes fixated on the evidence board now. “‘99 was the year he attacked Y/N, when he first got a taste for it… and then… he followed her to the Academy?”

“And he resumed the killings when he got kicked out.” Rossi picked up on the thought. “When he couldn’t be in close contact with her anymore… he couldn’t get a high off of retraumatizing her, reliving that night in his mind, he needed to relive it through the other victims.”

It all fit together now.

It was a horrible puzzle, but it all fit together around you.

“Reid, you said you might know where he took her?” Pretniss said, turning back to the very tired looking genius.

“Yes,” Reid shoved aside the file with the graphic photos of you, and went shuffling through the letters for something. When he found it, he handed it over to Prentiss. “A lot of the earliest dated letters make reference to ‘our special place’. Or-”

“-the bed I first made love to you in.” Prentiss read it off the page, clearly holding back vomit.

JJ grabbed up the file with the report about the break-in, shoving aside the photos, looking for an address. “It’s here. I’ve got it.”

“Okay, I want squad cars, tactical swat, I want spike strips on every road in or out of that place. I need everyone mobile in ten minutes.” Hotch ordered sharply, causing everyone to jump into action.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

It should have felt like a victory to hold a knife to the throat of your rapist - someone who had been taunting you for years after the incident.

But somehow, you still felt small. You still felt so chaotic and out of control.

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of confronting your life’s biggest monster.

In the back of your mind, you were aware of the guns pointed at you. You would have liked to believe that because Emily was your friend - she wouldn’t shoot you.

Part of you thought it would be worth it. To kill this man and take a bullet in the process.

You just hoped that she would aim to wound and not to kill.

“Put the knife down!” Emily ordered, her voice sounding muffled in your ears as blood thumped hard through you. “Come on, put it down.”

“Reid-!”

You heard his name being called out, and you saw a figure moving from the corner of your eye, but all you could focus on was the blade in your hand. The sight of a thick, unmarked neck, ripe for the taking in front of you. The idea that all you had to do was press down and slice through flesh - and then, this would all be over.

No more torment. No more letters. No more taunting.

“Y/N,”

His soothing voice spoke your name, and you held a sob inside of your chest.

You had grown so much of a life beyond this. Beyond him. He had tried to ruin you, he had tried to keep you in some little cage in some shitty town, and you had outgrown him. You had friends. You had people who loved you.

But you still couldn’t escape him.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Your hand shook as you held the knife.

“I have to.” You replied, unable to hold back your sobs. You barely noticed the tears coming out of your eyes - barely able to identify why your vision was blurring, why your face was suddenly wet.

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.”

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls.

If you let Daniel walk away from this, he would come for you again. He would.

Or he would keep killing other women in your place. And you couldn’t let that happen.

You couldn’t let your cowardice be the reason that so many women had died. You should have killed him the first time he had ever touched you. You should have been brave enough then.

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-”

It just sounded like noises in your ears at that point.

Spencer just didn’t understand.

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, urgent to make him truly hear you. “I killed those women. I killed them!”

“Prentiss!” A voice called her name, but it was so distant in your ears.

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back.

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.”

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.”

There was a gutting silence.

“Please, just give me the knife.”

You couldn’t give up.

You had come too far to let Daniel win now.

“It was my fault. I know what happened. If I had just been a good little girl… if I had just laid there and taken it… it’s all my fault.” You quietly wept, your arms still shaking - muscles ripe with hesitation as you struggled with your grip on the knife. “I have to be the one to make it stop.”

By violence it was done, and by violence it would be undone.

You could be brave enough this time. You could be the one to end it.

“No, no you don’t.” Reid told you. “You don’t have to do it alone. We can make it stop together. Just give me the knife. Please.”

You had been alone your whole life. What was one more thing?

Just press down. Something in your mind screamed. Slice his throat. End it.

“Please, just look at me.” Spencer begged, his voice growing more desperate. “Please.”

You didn’t look up at him.

You knew that you couldn’t.

If you took one look at those soft, pitying eyes, then the tiny bit of bravery you had gathered up would crack away.

“Y/N, please.” Spencer continued. “I know why you think you have to do this. I know that his face is the one that’s been in all your nightmares since that night. I - I know you were all alone then, on the night that happened. You must have felt so alone.”

You let out another sob at this.

You had been so alone.

“But you’re not alone now. You’re not alone now, okay?”

Spencer’s gentle voice delivering the words made them feel so true.

“We’re here with you now. I’m here with you. You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to fight by yourself anymore. You don’t have to be strong.”

You heard a crack in his voice for the first time - his own tears.

It wasn’t pity.

It was genuine sadness for you, as he thought about what had happened to you. What had happened in this very bedroom all those years ago.

“Spencer-” You choked out his name, and your body betrayed you.

You finally collapsed, your hand dropping the knife, and Spencer reached out and grabbed you as you fell, helping to move your shuddering form away from the unconscious, horrible man as the others finally moved in.

You heard more voices, more shouting - maybe Hotch giving orders.

But all you felt was Spencer’s arms around you, creating a shield as he rubbed your back and gently hushed you, letting you sob as loudly as you needed to, giving you a kind of comfort that you had never felt on that horrible night.

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret of it all more palpable in your lungs.

Maybe Reid had saved you from yourself, or maybe he had caused you to make the biggest mistake of your life.

You should have killed Daniel.

Ten more minutes.

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would be resigned to a cage.

Daniel had been hauled away in an ambulance. He had been entirely unmoving. In ‘critical condition’. They would likely charge you with manslaughter if he didn’t recover - it wasn’t likely that he would. You had overheard Prentiss remark on the irony that he was an organ donor. Because you had beaten him so badly, but not killed him, it was likely that his comatose state would lead to his organs being donated, and saving more lives.

It could be viewed as a beautiful thing.

But you had to wonder if the poison he had in his veins was contagious. Should the heart of a killer really live on inside someone else’s body?

“Let’s start with this,” Reid asked you sharply. “Why?”

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself.

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.”

You let out another puff of your cigarette, and he frowned at you.

“No.” He said. “No more bullshit. No more games.”

You definitely were not used to this version of Reid.

You were surprised that it had taken you almost killing someone to bring out his cold side. But you supposed that everyone had a line. And you had crossed his.

“Why didn’t you tell us you had been raped?” He asked. “Why didn’t you tell us that the rapist lived in your hometown and was a viable suspect in all of this? Why didn’t you tell us that the letter you received the other morning was just one of many your rapist sent you over the years, stalking you, obsessing over you after-?”

“Why?” You said, your voice scraping against the word harshly as you tossed it back at him, cutting off his ranting.

He gave you an impatient expression as it hung in the air - eyes wide, pursing his lips.

It caused you to flare with anger.

You let the cigarette burn down to a hot cherry between your fingers, the harsh sting against your skin being the only thing keeping you from lunging across the table and strangling him.

You stubbed it out in the ashtray before you answered him.

“Why didn’t I want to suddenly announce to a group of my intellectual peers that I was raped?” You echoed back, more tears gathering in the corners of your eyes - you knew that you must have looked quite crazed, especially when Hotch stiffened, and Reid’s expression dropped. “You know, when I first came to the BAU, it was the only time in my life that I wasn’t viewed as a victim.”

“Y/N-” Spencer said your name in that gentle tone again, but you weren’t having it this time.

“My dad left us when I was only a year old. And everybody viewed my Mama as this fucking martyr because she raised me by herself. ‘Oh poor girl. She doesn’t have a daddy. Poor little girl, all alone. Her mama does such a good job.’” You said, ranting in a crazed tone. But the floodgates had opened, and you couldn’t stop it. “Nobody wanted to talk about how my Mama was off half the time, drinking at bars, out partying with friends. She got pregnant at sixteen and she didn't want to stop having a life. God forbid I get in the way of that. I took care of my damn self! I raised myself!”

You knew you were screaming, but you couldn’t stop it.

“L/N-” Hotch tried speaking to you in a firmer voice.

But you couldn’t stop.

“Daniel only broke into the house that night because he knew I would be alone.” Your voice warbled harshly on the word, and you hated it.

You hated the look that Reid and Hotch were giving you.

Pity.

That look you had been trying to avoid for so long.

“When I came here that night and made the police report, they all knew I was bullshiting. They knew that it wasn’t a fucking burglary.” You pressed on. “But none of them said anything! They didn’t care.”

There was a tense moment. You swallowed thickly around your own tears, holding back sobs once again.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Spencer tried again, seeming to be personally stuck on this point. “I asked you if something was wrong. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That look in your eye.” You told him, entirely honest. “That look you have right now. I - I couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at me like that forever.”

“Daniel approached you in the parking lot of the corner store.” Hotch stated calmly. “Why did you go with him willingly? Did he have a gun on you?”

“He had a gun.” You told him. “He did have it pointed at me. But - I didn’t have mine. I didn’t like the odds.”

Hotch nodded at this.

“I didn’t want him to take another girl.” You added on. “I knew they were replacements. At that point, I realized what it was. I figured nobody else should have to die because of my mistake.”

“Mistake?” Spencer echoed back quietly.

“Not killing him the first time.” You said, knowing this was likely a bit too honest. “I should have killed him the first time he ever put his hands on me. I should have. I wanted him dead.”

Tears leaked hot from your eyes at this, and Spencer’s eyes grew glassy - he blinked back his own.

“You wanted him dead, but… did you want to kill him?” Hotch posed.

“I don’t know.”

...

“That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink.”

-Patrick Rothfuss

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, meant to function as an episode of Criminal Minds, so please respect it as such. Please do not ask for a sequel or a continuation, because there will not be one. If you are going to comment about the work, please comment about the body of what has been written. I highly appreciate reblogs and comments if you enjoyed it, and if you want to see more of what I have written for Criminal Minds, definitely check out my Criminal Minds masterlist.

#sundrop writes #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction

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reneesghostinthelivingroom · 2 months ago

Note

Hiiiiii just saw you’d be down to post Billie , assuming this would be Wlw (IT MUST BE!!!!!!)) like fem reader x Billie, reader is in school still and loves film and cinema so she is an assistant on the set of chihiro or lunch??

Stolen Glances

|| Billie Eilish x fem!reader

|| Warnings; short drabble

|| Summary; reader's a film student whose been hired in a co op position on Billie's Lunch set. Throughout her time on set, she steals occasional glances at Billie. Little does she know that Billie's looking back.

Requests open!

Started; october 2nd

Finished; october 4th

~~~

It was your first time on the set of a music video and you were absolutely thrilled to be there. You managed to score a co op position as an assistant crew member on a Billie Eilish set. Having been recommended by your arts school. You hadn't expected them to agree, but you were beyond thrilled they had. They showed you the ropes of stuff, giving you pointers here and there and letting you help a help with the lighting to keep you entertained. Though your main task was bringing drinks and snacks, as well as delivering messages to between the departments. Despite those tasks, you wouldn't change your experience for anything. Especially since you got to see Billie Eilish herself when she came on set.

Someone had asked for you to bring her a bottle of water, so you did without hesitation. Handing it to her with a slight tremble in your hand. Her eyes locked onto yours and you felt your heart skip a beat. Her eyes always had this intimidating but soft look to them that seemed to just draw you in.

"Thanks, miss..." She looked down at your visitors pass, raising an eyebrow when she saw the 'co op student' label but no name.

"Y/N, Y/N L/N." You introduced yourself with a bit of a stutter, she gave you a soft smile.

"You're here on co op?" She asked and you nodded," and they have you delivering drinks? Doesn't seem like much fun."

"I got to help a bit with the lightning," You rambled, her expression softened and she shook her head.

"That's not nearly enough experience, why don't you go help some of the tech crew? Let them know I sent you," Billie gave you a playful wink and your cheeks flushed.

"T-thank you."

"Don't mention it."

So you spent your time helping out the tech crew, upon Billie's request. They guided you, even let you help move around some of the cameras and mics. Though your eyes kept landing to Billie, absolutely enthralled by everything she did. The way she moved... it was effortless and alluring.

Before you knew it it was break and you seated yourself in a lounge area. Where Billie happened to walk over to you.

"Hey! How was tech crew?" She asked as she came and sat with you. Little did you know, she had been stealing glances at you whenever you weren't watching her. You'd caught her attention more than she cared to admit.

"It was awesome! Thank you for getting me on there," You replied, she nodded and smiled at you.

"Of course, if you're just retrieving coffee and what else then the co op is kinda pointless," Billie replied with a shrug.

You definitely couldn't argue with that. You'd learned a lot more with the actual hands on experience than you had with just watching from afar.

"So what college do you go to?" She asked, trying to start a conversation with you and hopefully get to go a little more.

You told her about your college and what you were studying, how you'd gotten this opportunity and everything. She seemed to listen to your every word, giving you small nods to show she was paying attention.

"Film and cinema have always been my favourite, I've seen so many movies and I try to watch as much as I can to learn, music videos included. So getting to actually be here and experience the behind the scenes was so so cool," You rambled, your hands making movements and gestures as you spoke.

"Well, I'm glad I got to meet you today. Can I give you my number?" Billie asked, a slight smirk tugging at her lips.

"Wh-what?" You stuttered, a little taken aback by the offer.

"So we can keep in touch, in case I need more help on set and maybe to hang out?" She was a lot more forward than you were ready for, but you nodded without hesitation and handed her your phone.

So much had happened today that you hadn't expected, but you wouldn't have traded that experience for anything.

#x reader #fanfic #canon x reader #fem reader #wlw fiction #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x reader #billie x reader #billie #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish

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justlookfrightened · 2 months ago

Text

Warm greeting

Filling a prompt from @shygryf: Tater and Bitty are papped and speculation abounds (can be pre or post cup)

Jack laughed when he first saw it.

He was at the St. Martins’ house, having a cup of coffee with Marty and Thirdy, listening to the girls play in the den while Gabrielle was at work, wondering what it would be like to have a house and a couple of kids.

He’d never really thought about that, not before this summer. Now, though, he was out of the closet — could never go back in the closet — and Bitty had been living with him since May, and it was … delightful.

Sure, it had been an adjustment. The condo felt crowded sometimes, with all of Bitty’s things everywhere, but that had gotten better when Tater had finally given up the guest room and taken his 6’4” body back to his own condo, and then, a couple of weeks later, back to Russia to see his family.

And sometimes Bitty chattered on, usually about nothing, or about baking, when Jack was craving silence.

But they’d gotten better at communicating what they needed when they needed it, and Jack had found his thoughts turning to a future that maybe … just maybe … included a family. With Bitty, who was already so good with kids. Marty and Thirdy’s kids all loved him.

He should really talk to Bitty about it before he got carried away. They’d never talked about having kids. Why would they? Bitty was so young, only a few years from being a kid himself. He still had two years of school to finish before they could even think about getting married.

Or maybe … Jack had known other players who married women who were still in college. It worked, they said, because the academic year roughly matched the hockey season, so they were busy at the same time.

Jack also knew a lot of players who got divorced after a few years.

“Earth to Jack.”

Marty was waving his phone in front of Jack’s face, trying to call him out of his daydream.

“Looks like Tater got back okay,” Marty said, once he had Jack’s attention.

The phone showed a picture of Tater at the airport in Boston, arms wrapped around Bitty and lifting him into the air. It was from a local news site, and noted that training camp was around the corner.

The sheer joy that Jack read on Bitty’s face made him laugh.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I had a meeting with my agent this morning, so Bits went down to pick him up. I know he was a little worried.”

“Tater?” Thirdy asked.

“No, Bitty,” Jack said. “Well, he said Tater was worried, too, but … I didn’t see it.”

“About what?” Marty asked.

“About Tater going back to Russia,” Jack said. “After the Cup. Or, I mean, after I kissed Bitty. Because people knew Tater was staying with me … staying with us … and the way Russia has been cracking down on gay people. That’s why Tater didn’t do a statement in support of us or anything.”

Tater had wanted to, Jack knew. Bitty had talked him out of it, after a long phone call to his old skating coach in Georgia, who apparently still knew people in Russia. She didn’t actually know Tater’s family, but Bitty said they had friends in common.

“Figure skating’s a small world,” Bitty had explained. “Even smaller than hockey.”

“I was surprised by that,” Marty said. “I never thought he’d be homophobic.”

“No, he’s not,” Jack said. “But his mother and sister are still in Russia, and he wanted to see them, and he was already staying with me. So he decided to have his Cup day there, like it was important for him to bring it home to them, and then work on getting things in place for his mother and his sister to move here this year. He just found out last week that their visas were approved.”

Jack didn’t say how much work had gone on behind the scenes, with George, with his American mother, with the U.S. State Department to make sure that Tater’s closest relatives would be admitted.

The next time Jack saw the picture, it was on the phone Bitty was holding out across the breakfast bar while Jack did the dinner dishes that evening.

Tater had come for dinner, full of plans to look for a place for his family to live in Providence, to have everything ready when they arrived.

“They’re not going to live with you?” Jack asked.

“No, no,” Tater said. “Me, I’m keeping my bachelor pad. Anyone I date, they need to get along with my mama, yes, but not over the breakfast table. You understand?”

He left, wiped out from traveling, as soon as the meal was over. Bitty was sitting at the counter and scrolling through his phone when he sat up, eyebrows at his hairline, and said, “Really?!?”

Now the picture was on what Jack recognized as a gossip site, and the caption underneath said, “Moving on? The man seen greeting Providence Falconer Alexei Mashkov at Logan Airport sure looks a lot like Eric Bittle, who Jack Zimmerman said was his boyfriend after kissing him on the ice following the Falconers’ Stanley Cup win. But Zimmermann and Bittle haven’t been seen in public together for weeks. Did Mashkov steal this puck bunny away from his teammate?”

Jack almost dropped the plate he was holding.

“Puck bunny? Osti de tabarnak!”

He set the plate down and took the phone from Bitty to read it again, saying as he did so, “I’m calling my lawyer. I’ll get them to take it down.”

But his phone was already ringing.

Shitty.

“What the fuck, brah!” Shitty started. “Did you see —”

“We saw,” Jack confirmed. “I’m calling my lawyer. Puck bunny?”

If Jack was furious, Bitty was incandescent with rage.

“How could they do this!?! This could ruin everything! I have to call Tater.”

Bitty tugged his phone out of Jack’s grip and looked at the post again.

“After everything Tater did all summer to smooth everything over. I mean, maybe I shouldn’t have hugged him, but I was so glad he made it back okay … and I didn’t even see anyone with a camera. Fuck, it’s my fault. What if his family can’t come anymore?”

Bitty was almost wailing now. Jack knew he was upset — Bitty didn’t usually use casual profanity like that — and he knew that he shouldn’t call Tater in that state.

“It’ll be okay,” Jack said. “You really think the Russian government looks at trashy gossip sites from Boston?”

“You really think they don’t?” Bitty retorted. “And I don’t know what your lawyer’s gonna do.”

“Tell them to take down the caption?” Jack said. “Sue them for defamation?”

“For what? Implying that I broke up with you and started dating Tater?” Bitty scoffed. “I love you, but the media law class I took last year — you know, for my blog? — I don’t think that’s actually defamatory.”

“Puck bunny?” Jack said in disbelief. “I mean, I saw the photo before, but it was one of the news channels talking about training camp. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Once again, you might see the caption as derogatory, but … they’re gonna say it was intended to be humorous. And we were in public, so no expectation of privacy. I hate it as much as you do, Jack, but you know they can take photos on public property.”

That, in fact, was why Bitty and Jack had not been seen in public together for weeks. Bitty had had a minor breakdown over not even being able to go to the grocery store without photos ending up online.

“But they still might take it down if they get a call from a lawyer,” Jack pointed out.

“Yeah,” Bitty acknowledged. “They might. I’m just kicking myself for not being more careful. I’ll call Tater.”

Jack went to the closet he called his office to call the lawyer while Bitty called Tater.

“Tater? I’m sorry to bother you — I know you’re exhausted,” Bitty started.

“I’m fine,” Tater said. “You need something? Forget something?”

“No — I, um, I have to give you some bad news,” Bitty said.

“You alright?” Tater asked. “Jack’s alright?”

“No, we’re fine. It’s, well. It’s that there was a picture taken. Of us. On the sidewalk at airport.”

“Yes?” Tater said, sounding a little mystified. “I saw the photo hours ago. You look very cute. I look very strong.”

“Well, yes, but some other place posted it, and the caption makes it sound like you ‘n’ me … like we’re dating,” Bitty finally managed to say.

“Okay?” Tater said. “I know that is not true. You know that is not true. I’m sure Jack knows it is not true.”

“But what about … you don’t think it will cause problems for your mother?”

“Mama? No,” Tater laughed. “Mama — she told the people in Russia that she needed to come to the U.S. to — how to say — set me straight. That I was forgetting the ways she taught me and she and my sister must come so I remember.”

Tater paused.

“Don’t worry, she can’t wait to meet you! She just said that so they would let her come here. I saw the photographer and I thought the picture might help, yes?”

Bitty thunked his head gently on the kitchen counter.

“Tater, are you sure about this?”

“Of course I am sure!”

There was another pause.

“They called you puck bunny!” Tater shouted.

“Just saw it, huh?” Bitty asked.

“They should not say that about you!”

“Yeah, Tater, Jack is on that. As long as you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Little B. Going to bed. Maybe tomorrow you, me and Jack all go out together?”

#zimbits #omg check please #omgcp #my fic #prompt fill

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therealslimshakespeare · 1 year ago

Text

Sarge & lil Mama: Wouldn’t it be Nice?

Fully co-authored with: @ab4eva 🤍

Summary: In between shooting movies and topping charts, Elvis Presley takes his young family to the California beach for some hard earned frolicking, nothing extraordinary occurs, but then again, extra and ordinary are words redefined since Elaine gave him five children under the age of five.

Date: 1962, Summertime

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: PG13- The accidental destruction of a child’s sandcastle, breastfeeding toddler, talk of being uncircumcised (including by children + children being aware of it), use of several nicknames for a man’s member, someone’s hair accidentally being set fire to, language, a minor injury involving sand in the foreskin + lots of talk about it (including by children) + treatment of the injury by uncommon methods while children are present (but not directly involved), Elvis being a big baby, Rosalee being distraught about her daddy’s injury, a child willfully acquiring a knife and threatening to cut off fathers member (more wholesome than it sounds) but has it taken away before anything can happen, parents kissing while children are present.

Jerry thought the day had been going quite well. Beach days were supposed to be carefree and rollicking and generally a time to let loose and soak up salt spray tranquility, and today had been correspondingly mellow. Or at least, everyone tried their best, a break from those back to back Wallis pictures doing wonders for EP and giving him a chance to take the kids to see the ocean for the first time, or the first time that some of them can remember .

It gave the day both a heavy amount of purpose and a giddy sense of long sought freedom. Away from the hustle and bustle of Hollywood, nestled between the Santa Monica Mountains and the cliffs of Pacific Palisades, sits a beach so serene and beautiful you’d think you were a thousand miles from nowhere instead of a stone’s throw away from the City of Angels. Miles of smooth, sandy shoreline and calm ocean waves, not to mention the virtually non-existent crowd, made it the ideal spot for their getaway. They would have space, and privacy, away from the prying eyes and curious shutterbugs that seemed to follow their little gang wherever they went.

They had a good little headquarters set up on the sand, a sandpit and bonfire beginning to be used for the evening’s meal of s’mores and hot dogs, a half a dozen umbrellas erected and a carpet of towels. Often they held a dozing child, nestled in a nest of cotton stripes when their little bodies couldn’t keep up with the games so vigorously played on at the water's edge. An hour ago Elvis had been there himself, laid out and snoozing next to Rosalee, his face in the shade but the entire rest of him in the sun’s full glare, clad in a wispy muslin shirt that had a penchant for riding up his belly with each gust of wind and tiny red shorts that he’d swiped from Edith Head’s costuming department after the latest film had wrapped.

“Those’ll make for some crazy tan lines.” Billy had remarked about it to Elaine while grabbing a beer from the cooler.

She’d just hummed dreamily while watching the way her man and their baby’s breath synced up, the little girl not even a third as long as his lanky frame, positioned in a L, her pasty baby skin in full shadow from the summer sun.

The cat nap had revived Elvis immensely and he was back at it within an hour, playing football with the boys while Elaine floated between her children, one minute collecting shells with Ella and Rosalee, the next inspecting a tiny crab Jackson had found. Jack, as his family called him, was intrigued by sea creatures and creatures in general, so he happily set about running from one thing to the next, crouching down to study a jellyfish that had washed ashore or gently returning a live sand dollar back to the water. At the ripe age of four years old, Jesse considered himself one of the guys, and was allowed, begrudgingly by some, to take part in the football game. Elvis had taught him how to throw a football almost as soon as he could walk, he’d been obsessed with any sort of ball since before he could talk and so was a natural. And Daisy Mae? For once she was sat quietly by herself, plastic buckets and pails all lined up in a row, diligently building a sandcastle..

It had three turrets so far, and an outer courtyard like the real life castle mama had driven them all to see when in Germany. Jesse had insisted that Daisy only recalled it from pictures and not memory, as she had been “just a baby” but she insisted she did. And to prove her point she was creating its layout with painstaking accuracy. Unless Elaine was greatly mistaken, Daisy’s little sand edifice bore a more striking resemblance to an illustration in Scribner’s edition of Grimm’s Fairy Tales, but she would be the first and staunchest defender if asked that the wet mounds resembled Lichtenstein Castle.

It made what happened next even worse as Elaine and Aunt Betsy watched as if in slow motion horror as a cataclysmic catastrophe of toddler sized proportions unfolded as the ball game spread and spread across the white sands. It wasn’t that Uncle Rex was trying to trample on Daisy’s masterpiece, but Elvis threw a Hail Mary pass, farther than even he thought possible, and the next thing anyone knew Rex was skidding to a stop with one foot in the moat and the other on a turret, his team cheering with wild abandon because he’d caught the ball. A high-pitched wail pierced the air, drowning out the gulls and the waves, startling them all.

Uncle Rex’s kindly and sun tanned face turned a little sickly pale upon looking down and noticing that while little Daisy Mae did not look to be in any mortal danger, she was glaring at his foot through a cascade of tears as if it were the cause of all human woe. Then he noticed the turret, the moat, what was probably a stable for horsies in back and the stack of plastic shovels and molds beside it that all bore witness to the four year old’s painstaking efforts. All of it demolished with a misplaced foot and when Rex looked up and saw Elvis running over to ascertain the cause of his child’s grief, Rex coulda swore his wide-receiver days were over.

In an instant, Elvis had scooped Daisy Mae up in his arms, her tears soaking the shoulder of his thin shirt as he patted her back soothingly, swaying gently from side to side and murmuring softly in her ear. Being a father was second nature to him at this point, he had perfected all of the little rituals and responsibilities that came with having so many children all under the age of five. At the same time, he was holding her close and checking to make sure she wasn’t hurt, smoothing the fine hair that floated in a halo around her head and running his hands over her tiny limbs.

“Aww now darlin’ it’s alright, it’s alright, Uncle Rex is awfully sorry,” he soothed her the best he could once hearing her bawling complaint, “he’s awfully sorry, didn’t mean to, such a pretty castle ya got here. So pretty, he’d never mean to do it and he feels sick about it.”

“Just sick.” Rex agreed vehemently, dropping to his knees on the sand beside Elvis and his child, careful to choose an undeveloped patch of sand from which to properly apologize, “I’m ever so sorry, Daisy dear.”

It was typical Daisy fashion for words to be cheap and the devastation of her afternoon’s work a soul scarring affair, and while her daddy’s arms and sweet words were soothing, at least a little, there remained a bitterly painful sense of loss in her little chest that nothing was ever again going to remedy or fill that void.

That is untill Jesse piped up softly at her side after surveying the damage, “Daisy, was this goin’ to be where they keep the wolves?”

Lichtenstein Castle had an large menagerie in back where it’s first Saxon overlord kept the native beasts for gruesome purposes Elaine did not expound to the children about. Seemingly forgetting his insistence that Daisy did not recall the place from memory alone, Jesse was intrigued by the design and after asking her she finally pulled her face out of her daddy’s shoulder to give her big brother a sniffling nod and very pointedly emphasized:

“S’posed to be.” For it would never be now and never could be again, for all her mortal dreams had been dashed by Uncle Rex’s foot.

“We can help finish it!” Jesse insisted. “Look here, Daisy, this shovel is the perfect thing to fix the wolf pen, just needs a bit of sand scooped out is all and it’ll be good as new!” He dropped to his hands and knees and got to work, carefully scooping out sand and water, shoring up the walls as he went. Daisy observed him watchfully from the safety of her father’s arms, hiccuping a little every now and then. Elvis gently swiped the tears from her reddened cheeks, kissing her forehead gently and whispering to her, “Whatdya reckon, Daisy Maisey? Think we can get this ol’ castle fixed up? Uncle Rex and I know a thing or two ‘bout buildin’ things, don’t we now, Rex?” He nodded knowingly to Rex above Daisy’s head, giving him the go ahead to speak up.

“Oh sure we do, I’ve been known to build a sandcastle as tall as your daddy before, ain’t that right, Elvis?” He hunched down beside the duo, eye to eye with Daisy to plead his case. “I’ll even make ya some pretty vines to hang down the side outta seaweed, would ya like that?” Daisy eyed him warily before nodding her head slowly and stating with a great deal of gravity, “Lick-en-stine Castle doesn’t have vines that hang down…but it has trees that grow on the side.” Her small concession was all the affirmation Rex needed to plop himself down properly, grabbing a pail and filling it with sand, talking to the little girl the whole while, regaling her with his favorite parts of the castle he had visited while in Germany.

“What’s going on down there?” Up at Beach HQ under the umbrellas, Elaine asked Aunt Betsy for an update on the toddler crises as she tried to discreetly nurse a rather lanky Jack under a towel he was insistent on throwing off.

He was perhaps getting too old for this, Elaine had to admit, but her milk hadn’t stopped, and she didn’t have another baby yet. “They’re all over the place.” She snickered at the sight of them, as much of them as she could make out which was mostly when they went to the water's edge and scurried back again with refilled buckets.

They weren’t that far off down the beach but Betsy was always nearsighted and so she held the binoculars Rex had brought for whale watching and trained it on the group of men down there hovering and packing and molding sand and fetching water like a great army of ants. Anywhere Daisy beckoned was attended to by a member of the Mafia, with Jesse as her most dedicated foremen, while it appeared that Rex had been entrusted with wreathing the front pillars with garlands of seaweed that he received from further up in the assembly line where Elvis was braiding the slimy stuff with dedicated perseverance and the help of Rosalee’s tiny fingers. Rex and Betsy’s son, Sam, happy and carefree and practically one of the Presley kids himself, plopped down beside Rosalee, far more interested in watching her work than doing any work himself.

“Your man has got the boys rebuilding it.” Betsy summarized with an amused smirk. “Only Elvis could wrangle a group of grown men into building a sandcastle for a three year old…and with such authority. He really did learn a thing or two in the army, didn’t he?”

Elaine smiled softly to herself and held out a hand for the binoculars to better see the little group at the water’s edge. She wasn’t at all prepared for the sight of her husband, tiny red swim shorts and wind-blown hair, breath-taking in his command of an army all his own, pointing and inspecting and generally being an adorable menace for the benefit of his girl. Her darling children were running to and fro with buckets and shovels, laughing and screaming, while Daisy sat like a queen in the midst of them all, the real commanding officer and Elvis only her obedient second. That girl had had her daddy at her command ever since the day she was born.

Jack was roused from his cozy stupor at Elaine’s breast by all of the noise, letting her nipple go with a soft pop and turning his head to the commotion. A lackadaisical learner, Jack’s favored vocabulary consisted mostly of “mama” and food items at this point in his life and having stuffed himself with milk, he proved he was his father’s son by looking away from the sand architects down at the beach and asking her hopefully,

“Cat’sup?”

By that he meant the hotdogs intended for the bonfire but his favorite ingredient in them was ketchup and so they were referred to by it accordingly.

“You can’t possibly be hungry, little man.” She laughed, poking his distended, milk full belly and making him laugh until he hiccuped and that dimple of his dug deep.

“Cat’sup.” Jack persisted, cheeks in full grin and he bonked his soft button nose to Elaine's, holding their faces together with clammy little hands. “Caaaat’suuup.”

“Well, ya heard him,” she giggled to Betsy. “The man of the place says he’s hungry.”

“I don’t blame him one bit. I’m a little hungry myself,” Betsy said, rubbing her pregnant belly and winking at Jack. “What do ya think, Jacky boy, should we get lunch ready?”

Elaine and Betsy set about preparing lunch, knowing the troops would be ready to feast when they finished with all their hard work. There wasn’t much to do, as roasted hotdogs and potato chips were the beginning and end of it, with s’mores for dessert, but they laid everything out on the card table that Betsy had brought, stacking skewers and buns, stoking the burn pit to a good blaze.

The sandcastle crew were just about done shoring up their renovations, much to Daisy’s satisfaction and glee, when the smell of the bonfire wafted down shore, making their tummies suddenly grumble, the promise of sustenance close at hand. The whole gaggle of them made their way towards Beach HQ, and chattering excitedly, descended upon the food like a pack of hungry wolves set free from Lichtenstein Castle.

After the hot dogs had been roasted and consumed, the s’mores fixins were brought out, much to the gathered children’s delight. With the concentration and patience befitting a much older child, Jesse slowly turned his marshmallow over the low flames, just like his daddy taught him. Slow and steady, until it starts to grow and puff up, turning a lovely golden color. It was almost there, almost ready to be popped onto a graham cracker and smooshed with chocolate, a melty, delicious, sugary mess. But then the inevitable happened, because no matter how careful and how meticulous you are when roasting marshmallows, at least one or two, three or four even, are bound to catch fire. It happens in a flash, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Waving it back and forth, though, that will surely put the flame out, right?

This is Jesse’s thinking at least, as his eyes grow big and he inhales a breath, intending to blow out the flaming marshmallow that is too far gone to save. He waves it back and forth, frantically, the tiny blaze only growing bigger by the second. Those gathered around the campfire watch almost in slow motion as the mallow launches off of Jesse’s stick, flying through the air with the greatest of ease, and lands with a plop on poor Jerry’s beautiful blonde mop of hair.

“Holy shi-“

“Uhem!”

“Somebody put it out!”

“No, no, not the marshmallow, forget the marshmallow, his hair! Get his hair put out!”

It’s absolute pandemonium then as Jerry tries to pat out the flames but only succeeds in yelping as the fire singes his hands, the same goes for Charlie and Billy as they try to bat it out and Elaine and Betsy are no help at all, lost to giggles and trying to make sure no more marshmallows get catapulted off sticks.

“Dunk him in the ocean!” Elaine suggests the obvious and suddenly Jerry is resistant to all help.

“No, no, just, just hand me some water or somethin-“ he backs away from the encouraging hands of his friends.

“There’s a giant body of water right behind ya.” Elvis laughs the same hiccuping laugh that Jack has.

“The salt will ruin my flow, man!” Jerry begs for him to understand and Elaine watches as her peacock of a husband has a compassionate epiphany for him.

It’s no time for vanity, the smoldering sticky bomb in his hair is singeing and casting a nauseating stench over the dessert.

“Jerry, just stick your dumb head in God’s teacup, man.” Charlie coaxes him towards the ocean.

“You’re gonna lose more than your flow if ya don’t.” Elaine predicts as she watches those blonde locks begin to frazzle.

She can tell it spooks him but it’s not enough and in the end they have some free entertainment with their s’mores, watching Billy and Rex dunk their unwilling buddy into the waves. Before Elaine can remind him to swallow his last bite, Jesse is off down the beach and into the waves himself, body surfing like his daddy taught him with an alarming lack of caution. It makes even Elvis nervous and with a sticky peck to her lips in thanks for the meal, her husband discards his shirt and jogs after their son.

The diaspora affects all and soon the bonfire occupants have dispersed, each to their own little endeavors again as the sun begins to dip towards the westerly horizon. There’s frisbee’s being thrown now, higher up the beach and well away from any sandcastles, and it gets quite competitive as the kids are happily intent on burying Betsy and Elaine. The mermaid tails requested by each take additional time to craft and part way through Jesse becomes too restless to mold sand any longer and with tentative steps makes his way back to the towel fort under the umbrella and pulls the family’s famed new Polaroid camera from inside Elaine’s diaper bag.

“Mama, can I?” he hollers, careful to wipe his sandy fingers off on the towel after he notices them near the lens.

“Sure, darlin,” she grins from her sand casement, “Rosa baby, can ya pull my hair back a little for mama? It’s gettin’ in my mouth, thank ya baby.”

“Alright,” Jesse appears before them all knobby knees and tanned little legs beneath his shorts, looking for all the world like a collectible sized Elvis doll, “gimme your best smile ladies!” he imitates his father’s tone so well that Betsy let’s out an ungainly snort alongside her shocked laugh.

“I want a mermaid tail!” Ella, usually so very selfless for so young a child, lets slip her needs with a wobbly lip and yearning eyes.

“Of course you do!” Elaine murmurs, nodding her head to the side, “Lay down beside mama, sweetie. Y’all got enough muscles for one more, right?” she eggs on her boys and Jesse springs to action for his twin maybe a little too fast: “No, Jesse, the camera -don’t, not on the sand! -oh well.”

It’s just money, Elaine realizes, as Jesse’s guilty face waits for her verdict on the Polaroid camera face first in the sand. Luckily her husband makes a whole lotta the yummy green stuff.

“It’s fine, darling,” she insists and the colony of worker bees sets in motion again until Ella has a tiny little tail to match mama’s.

After an hour in this full body cast Elaine ventures with an unassuming tone, “Do y’all need me to get you anything? Y’all hungry again?”

“Yeah, I think there are more graham crackers left over?” Betsy adds to it, a terrible itch on her shin hardly able to be tolerated any longer as her hands are pinned to her sides.

“No, we’re good,” Daisy replies serenely.

“Ya sure?” Betsy’s face shows alarm at the prospect of not being released.

“Yeah.”

Elaine smirks and leans into the sandy hair petting Jack is lavishing on her, “How long do you reckon mermaids last after they get tossed ashore?” she asks Betsy.

“With those men as the sailors?” She rejoins, wryly nodding at the group of full grown men body smashing each other in pursuit of the frisbee, “An hour max.”

Elaine snickers and settles for waiting until someone wants to be carried into the waves before breaking out of her meticulously crafted tail. She doesn’t have to wait long before unforeseen circumstances arise that require her attention. With that sixth sense that motherhood has given her, she senses an injury in the frisbee players even before the concerning hush alerts her to a downed man.

“Ow goddamnit! Ow, ow, owww!” The last thing anyone had seen was Elvis diving for the frisbee with ease, his long and tan athletic form sure in its ability. And now here he was, rolling around in the sand, clutching his groin through his tiny, red shorts and moaning like he’d been shot.

“What is it Daddy? What’s wrong?” Little Jesse is at his father’s side in an instant, dropping to his knees on the sand next to Elvis, his sharp, intuitive eyes assessing the situation like a triage doctor on the battlefield. He takes in Elvis’s hands covering his privates and understands what’s happened, in the way that men always understand when that delicate part of them has been injured, like a sixth sense. “Is it your nozzle, papa? Is it hurt?”

“I think I’ve got sand in my…” Elvis grits out, before blushing deeply and coughing, too embarrassed to go on. Jesse stares at him, eyebrows drawn together, a puzzled look on his little boy face, trying to decipher his father’s unspoken meaning. He looks from Elvis’s face down to where his hands are pressing at his shorts and back up again, a look of recognition dawning.

“In your scarf, papa?” Jesse whispers loudly, the way a little child thinks they’re being discreet but really they’re just announcing your business for the whole world to hear.

Elvis hears the snickers of the gathered men at this and through his pain manages to give them a hard stare, withering in its ability to shut them up immediately, their eyes pointedly looking anywhere but at the situation unfolding before them, though they can’t help their drifting gazes that settle back on the man himself. Jesse’s little boy fascination with his father’s “nozzle” that wore a “little scarf” came from the fact that he himself didn’t have one. There had been no way in hell that Elvis Presley would let any sons of his grow up being teased and tormented in every locker or shower room they found themselves in for the rest of their lives. He had been through so much hazing and shame in his lifetime due to his uncut self that he was insistent with Elaine when Jesse was born that he be circumcised.

Elaine had been torn, and a little bit saddened, by this decision. She had wanted her boys to resemble their father in this aspect, had wanted them to be able to see themselves in Elvis in this most intimate way. But she knew there would be no arguing her point with him, this was one concession she had no choice in. She understood his shame, his embarrassment, but that didn’t mean she had to agree with it. Her man was perfect in every way, this one included. So she had merely tilted her head to the side and given him a gentle, searching look, her brown eyes meeting his scared blue ones, before nodding once and agreeing to his decree.

And so it was that when Elvis taught his little sons how to aim just so in the toilet, or when they went camping and had to use the bathroom in the woods, or when they saw him getting out of the shower every now and again, they were sorely disappointed that their “little men” didn’t have a scarf like their daddy’s did.

Such was Jesse’s preoccupation with making sure that Elvis and his little scarf were ok. Elvis hisses as he shifts his position in the sand, trying to sit up, every move he makes jostling more sand to fall out of his tiny shorts.

Jerry rolls his eyes behind his aviator shades and drawls, “Want me to carry ya to mama, EP?”

“Help me up, dammit, and wipe that look off your face, Schilling. Do you have a nozzle with a little scarf? No? Then I don’t wanna hear it,” Elvis spits out venomously, hissing again as Jerry pulls him up by the hand, throwing Elvis’s arm around him as Jesse rather comically supports him on the other side, his daddy’s hand resting heavily on the little boy’s shoulder. A truly absurd amount of sand falls out of Elvis’s tiny shorts as he stands and Jerry has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. Distracted by all the commotion, Jack leaves the seashells he’d been collecting, running over to see what all the commotion was about.

“Elbis’ wocket owie?” Jack asks his daddy who he refuses to call by his proper title, taking a sandy thumb out of his mouth as he casually observes the trio making their way delicately across the beach to headquarters. Ever their curious child, by talking age Jack was obsessed with NASA and everything to do with space. He had settled on calling his little man “rocket,” a decision his father was sure he would come to regret in a couple of decades. But as he could tell that Jack wouldn’t be persuaded against it, he had sighed with fondness, ruffling the little rascal’s hair and saying, “Ok, my boy. I see I ain’t gonna change your mind on this one.” Elaine had watched all of this from the darkened hallway in Graceland, biting her lip and trying not to smile, as her three men stood in the bathroom, discussing men things. Jesse was already making blast-off jokes about it, something he would no doubt continue to do for the rest of their lives.

“Oh now, what’s all the fuss about, hmm?” Elaine, having broken out of her mermaid tail at the first sign of distress down the beach, looks over her cat-eye sunglasses at the group slowly making their way towards her. Her motherly instincts kick in as she evaluates the situation with sharp eyes, taking in her husband’s disheveled and slightly embarrassed state - noting with some concern the pained grimace running from his furrowed brow to his twisted mouth, the look of pure concern on her son’s face as he peers up at his father and the barely concealed amusement that Jerry’s trying hard to reign in. Elvis is limping like his leg’s been shot clean off, and she can’t quite make out where the injury lies. There’s no blood, no bruise, no showing bone…she runs through all of these possibilities in a matter of seconds, still puzzled by the time she meets them halfway down the beach.

“Elvis, what’s wrong?” she asks again as she meets them up the beach and takes in Schilling's straight face but bouncing shoulders and Elvis’ teeth gritted glare at his friend. “What’s broken?” Elaine throws her hands up in encouraging exasperation at the mute trio and it’s Jesse who has the composure to break the dire news to his mother in grave, childish tones,

“Daddy’s nozzle is broken.” Jesse tells her and for a split second Elvis can see the identical expression on both Elaine and Jesse’s faces, that alarmed and incredulous mix that makes the beginning third of their eyebrows point upwards briefly in a way that blows out of the water any theories about Jesse being his daddy’s copy. He’s a pure blend of both parents and Elvis thinks that the boy having his mama’s expressions makes him somehow fonder for the almost womanish amounts of fretting his young son already indulges in.

“Broken?” Elaine repeats and she’s already gathered enough comfort for Schilling’s mirth to figure that this isn’t life threatening, pulling down her shades again she ducks to meet Elvis’ eyes and mutters for only him to hear, “Really, honey? We’ve talked about you runnin’ round with a stiffy.”

“It ain’t broke or stiff!” Elvis replies with vehemence driven by pain, “There’s a beach worth of sand down my drawers and all up in my…business!”

“Oh.” Elaine’s mouth trembles in a way that closely resembles Jerry’s suppressed attempts and that’s just great, Elvis thinks, Elaine finds him and his scarf full of sand funny and maybe he will too in a few months when this gets to be a bonfire story but right now it feels like fire in his drawers.

“Woman, I’m in agony over here!” Elvis cries and his wife composes her face with credible ease and looks down to the offending red shorts with eyes intent to solve the issue.

“Do somethin’ mama!” Jesse urges, mimicking his father’s faith that Elaine can work miracles on big or little men.

“Umm ok, yeah of course I-“ she starts to fret herself as she looks around at their entourage, most of whom are starting to take notice of the boss being injured. “Can’t you just -wade out there and rinse the sand out?” She misunderstands exactly how intricate the issue is. “Just pull the legs out a little and…shimmy in the water..”

“I could barely walk to you!” Elvis eyes are wide as saucers and he looks like a hurt child for all that his masculine body is on full display to dissuade her gut instincts.

“Yeah, uh, Boss Lady, it’s like -up, UP his …scarf.” Jerry helps out in his staple, sardonic drawl.

“And it hurts?!” Elaine looks flabbergasted and Elvis gives her one last pained and withering look of incredulity before she shapes up into the doting little caregiver Elvis has molded her into, “Oh Mopey, no, oh dear, I’ll fix it, I-I’ll find a way. We need these folks distracted -Jerry?”

“What am I supposed to do about a dick injury?” Jerry asks, offended at the notion he’d know anything about dicks.

Elaine’s eyebrow quirks in appreciation for Jerry and his staunch idiocy. “I need to rinse the poor thing!” she hisses, “And I need some privacy from our folks while I’m at it.”

“Yeah, she needs to rinse it!” Elvis repeats in a small voice that’s very hopeful and very needy and Elaine slips her hand around his bronzed wrist to keep her husband from fully floating away.

“Elvis, come on honey, just a little further to the blanket fort,” she urges him and he throws his arm around her sun kissed shoulders and hobbles to HQ with unsuppressed little whines at each step that Elaine shouldn’t find so cute but she can’t help it when he turns into a big baby for her.

“What’s wrong with daddy?” Rosalee demands with terror in her eyes and predictably Sam Harrison and Daisy Mae are right on her heels.

“He’s got a boo boo and I’ve gotta rinse it out.” Elaine hushes the brewing hysteria as gently as she can, and even Elvis gives his girl a weak thumbs up of assurance as he drops to his knees on the sand and tugs at the tight pant leg of his shorts. “Like how we gotta rinse your cuts with antiseptic when you scrape your knees, ya know?” Elaine explains patiently while thinking up a plan, “But daddy’s owie is higher up. And I need your help, Rosa sweets. I need y’all to make a blanket wall for me, can ya do that? Get your brother and sisters and hold hands with your towels?”

The words are barely out of Elaine’s mouth before little Sam Harrison seizes his chance and grabs hold of Rosalee’s hand, the essential towel forgotten. The little chestnut haired cutie stares at his forwardness with typical childish surprise before looking to her daddy to see if he’s gonna kill Sam for such an assumption. Elvis is staring at the wide blue sky with gritted teeth and so he missed both the interaction and the way Sam’s mother Betsy comes over and asks after the plan -which Elaine relays with unapologetic diction but pink cheeks. Soon they’ve got a fine little semi circle made with the kids facing outwards and their towels held between them, giggling like it’s a competition of who can keep the most soldierly posture, the felled umbrella doing the work of three in the gap.

Somewhat sheltered for her delicate work, Elaine crawls over her prostate husband and takes in his puckered eyebrows and the trusting set of his blue eyes as he waits for her to fix him. Fix him, oh it’s so silly, she thinks, he’s so silly and she loves him so much and can’t believe she’s humoring a grown man in this stupid fit of whimpishness. Then again, maybe it does hurt.

“I shoulda made ya walk to the ocean like we did Jerry and his hair,” she sighs over him and his eyebrows knit together, further aggrieved at the mere suggestion of him putting in such effort when he’s so dreadfully wounded.

“Mama I’s hurtin,” Elvis objects and his sad glare is the same as Jack’s and somehow she’s gone from angel to being in deep trouble with a grown brat -and Elaine never got taught how to deal with such a phenom, in her own experience it’s best to just kiss it better.

But Elaine was always one to be been torn between doing what’s best and doing what’s asked of her. “My poor pretty baby.” she coos to him and places a wet peck to his plump lips and Elvis pitifully puckers them to receive it as he is still petulant, the praise has him only slightly pacified. “Lemme just grab-“ Elaine ignores the nearby canteen, it’s empty anyway, and instead sneakily reaches into the cooler and snags a Coke bottle. It’s chilled even though the ice has melted throughout the day.

“Here Butnin, open up,” she murmurs and Elvis unscrews his eyes enough to see her lighting a cigar for him and drawing on it with the faded paint of her lips before pressing it to his. The familiar taste and warm rush of the nicotine soothes him and he lays his head back on the towel, expecting her to present that Coke she’s grabbed for him to taste as soon as she uncaps it.

The sky is impossibly blue above him without a cloud in sight and at the edges of the horizon it’s turning violet as the sun wanes, and if he holds very still the burning down south calms enough for Elvis to appreciate the breeze and the feel of Tink fussing over him. Jack’s been getting more than his fair share of doting from her and while Elvis would never fake an injury or embellish it’s severity, when God fells a man it’s his due for a woman to fuss over him.

Drawing on his cigar, Elvis feels her hands stretching out the leg hole of his shorts and gingerly Elaine’s hands creep up his thigh and beyond those golden tan lines. She finds him where he’s tucked himself to the side, soft and floppy in its silliest state, and takes greater care with her hold in him when Elvis hisses,

“Careful woman, it’s burnin’ like hellfire, don’t need your maulin’ on top of it.”

“Sowwy, so sowwy baby,” she simpers as she tries to carefully pull the floppy worm that is a man’s flaccid penis out of his very elastic leg hole. There’s nothing quite as absurdly unimpressive or cute as a soft cock when it’s in repose. A cock with a tan little scarf tugged round its pink head like a nugget bundled freshly in a towel after a bath is doubly so, and Elaine can’t help the grin splitting her face as the comedic aspect of her duty comes to the fore. “We’re gonna fix hims up, Butnin, yes we is,” she whispers as the cigar smoke burns her nose and she gives a furtive glance the sunburned backs of the kids who are still busy competing at being dutiful with the shield wall while the adults pack up the condiments and leftovers at a distance.

Letting his cock lay heavily on his thigh, Elaine deftly pops the top off the Coke and wedges it between her thighs at the ready before gently cradling little Elvis in her palm. She is quite certain she hears her strapping young husband sniffle as she does so. It’s more of a production than one might think, to pull back the foreskin on a soft cock, but Elaine has played enough with her man in every stage of arousal that she is able to uncover the tip with some ease, and the next little bit with only some trouble.

“Goddamn it, Tink, that hurts!” Elvis pleads as he bites at his lip, gripping handfuls of sand, and she pets his bare belly soothingly, knowing he might be childish but the poor man is sensitive.

“I’s gotta gets to him, Naughty,” she says, loath to make it worse but now she’s looking, the dear, chubby little thing really does look a bit raw. “Let mamas take care of ya, hold still an’ it’ll be over soon, pretty baby.”

“Hurts worse t-than breaking a bone, o-o-r a virgin f-or-” her pretty baby informs her of this in a growl that’s not aimed at her but at the situation, nonetheless Elaine doesn’t appreciate the cadence or the subject matter so near her children and picks up the bottle as he goes on pouring out his woes to the sky, “-hell I’d wager a couple grand it’s worse than childbirth! -WHAT THE HELL TINK?”

Elaine tips the Coke and spills it onto his unsuspecting member, thumbing back the foreskin with practiced ease as the bubbles fizz in a caramel dance on top of his little head and pool in his slit before running down to his thigh.

“Hellfire woman that’s ice cold!” Elvis screeches around his cigar with his voice gone up two octaves at least and the harmless appendage in her hand shrinks like a miracle lab specimen. It makes her giggle.

“You said it was burnin’?” she reminds questioningly and she looks so earnestly confused at her wrong doing when Elvis goes to give her the stink eye that he can’t quite manage it, it’s an honest mistake a silly little gal without a cock would easily make. What he doesn’t so easily condone is the way she’s still dribbling the soda over him and trying to swish the sand off with her thumb like it’s a wiper on a windshield.

“Y-yeah I did,” he accepts and crunches partway up to watch and correct her ministrations, his lean belly crumpling up like a washboard and shimmering from the Coke, Elaine licks her lips in longing that can’t be indulged in with a crowd of kids nearby. “But in no world does that mean Coke on a pecker, Laney.”

“Is daddy gonna live?” Rosalee asks tentatively from her distance away and Sam squeezes her hand in either solidarity or hopes she’ll stop being preoccupied during this, their historic first handhold.

Jack takes a peek behind him to ascertain whether his midnight rival for his mama’s snuggles is indeed still alive and after Elaine snaps her fingers at him to turn back around, he reports morosely, “Elbis still alive, Woslaee.”

“But-but he’s crying, he’s crying like you do!” Rosalee protests in a whimper and Elvis’ head jerks up at the comparison to Jack.

“I’m fine, Schnucki, just a little hurt and your mama’s bein’ silly.” Elvis hollers, using her German acquired nickname for emphasis.

“Elaine, enough with the Coke,” Elvis insists, pulled out of transient toddlerhood by the need to control his own nursing and calm his most suggestible child.

“But look -it works!” she eagerly defends her choice and before he can prevent it there's a Coke bottle rim being wedged under the extra length of his foreskin and she’s tipping it back again and watching his hood swell with fizz.

“You ain’t got the brains of a lil bird,” he realizes aloud while watching his wife use cola for antiseptic.

“You say the sweetest things, E,” Elaine titters and looks around at the restless kids before pulling him straight up with the bottle wedged atop, seamless from the foreskin still wrapped around the rim. “Someone oughta call Ed Sullivan and tell ‘em he was spot on. See look, it’s workin’, the sand’s coming out.” She sounds pleased.

“No thanks to you!” Elvis says a little loudly and it causes little Ella to whimper as her own nursing skills are denied their proper outlet this time. She was always the one to patch daddy up, bandaids or dab his cuts with mercurochrome and she finds her sidelining for this injury particularly offensive. The more her father whimpers behind her the more obvious it is that Mama’s care ain’t cutting it.

“Hold still while I rinse this last bit out!” Tink hisses back at her husband in a low tone, actually sounding a little impatient and Elvis realizes maybe she’s right.

“Why’s it takin’ so long? Is daddy gonna bleed out? Mama?” Rosalee starts up again and Elvis swears that child’s nightmares are as bad as his, only she has them when conscious.

“You can’t bweed oudda yer wocket,” Jack helpfully informs where the trouble lies (daddy’s rocket), while rolling his baby blue eyes in disdain for female stupidity. “But a wocket can snap off.”

“Why’d his rocket snap off?” Rosalee wails in concern for any limb of her fathers being snapped and little Sam let’s go of his edge of the towel wall to thumb a tear track away from her chubby cheek.

“‘Cause God doesn’t lub Elbis.” Jack clarifies.

“We should just snap it off all the way, then it’ll stop hurtin,” Daisy surmises in hopes of comforting her now sobbing twin.

“I can’t lose him, I can’t lose daddy! We jus’ got him back!” Rosalee’s grief brings Betsy over who tries to comfort the girl while watching as the thin barrier of privacy for Elaine’s work starts to waver like a Roman shield wall when met with the War Elephants of Carthage.

“Then we should snap the wocket clean off,” Jack insists gravely with a dimple creating a cavern in his milk fat cheek.

“Pete’s sake! It’s not his rocket doin’ this, it’s his scarf!” Jesse chimes in with authoritative four year old sensibility and not in a million years did Elvis dream that filling up sweet Elaine Phipps with children would get him five toddlers discussing his package.

“I hate Daddy’s scarf!” Rosalee screams about something she doesn’t even understand, straight into Betsy’s red and soothing face.

Elvis gives pause from hissing at Elaine’s ministrations of tying his foreskin off like a balloon end and shaking the soda up in it in order to reach and tickle the back of his disconsolate Rosalee’s neck.

“Schnucki, my Schnucki I’m gonna be fine!” he coos and Elaine rolls her eyes fondly at his picking and choosing moments to be tough. Elaine lets out the soda and retracts the foreskin back as far as she can manage it.

“I don’t want ya to die!” Rosalee wails, informing him of the obvious and not even Elvis’ tickles on her back can soothe her. Little Sam Harrison leaves off petting her wet cheeks and looks back, giving Elvis a hard stare that’s firm and straight outta left field as far as a clueless Elvis is concerned.

“What ya lookin’ at boy?” Elvis growls only to yelp as Elaine flicks his cock -in hopes of jostling the last bits of sand out.

The yelp breaks Ella’s resolve and the usually dutiful little eldest daughter drops her towel and scurries over to help her obviously insufficient mama. “Mama, where’s it hurt?” she demands to know with all the matronly surety of Elaine herself and Elvis launches upwards onto his knees in an attempt to cover himself. Laney and her Coke have done about all that’s gonna get done without a bath and some q-tips maybe-

-yeah, they’re done here. It's an effort to smash his cock back up his tight shorts lightening fast, when he put the article of clothing on he hadn't been sticky with coke. Elaine catches a flying Ella as she hurtles forward and keeps her spun away as Elvis modestly tugs on his leghole, mouthing to her husband with a vibrant smile,

“I’ll clean ya up at home!” Elaine fortifys him with a wink.

This sweet promise gets quickly smacked down with Jack having abandoned his post and coming up to Elvis on his chubby little toddler legs and asking with a bizarre amount of hope, “Does it hurt ya bery badly, Elbis?”

Never in a million years would Elvis give this imp the satisfaction of knowing it hurt like hell, besides, Elvis is now cradling a clinging Rosalee who keeps sniffling into his neck in a rain of snot that she’s gonna have Daisy “chop off his rocket” so it never happens again. “No, Trouble, I’m all better ‘cause mama loves me and fixed me up” Elvis goads with an ethereally content smile that Elaine catches and savors as she herself is in the middle of calming a spurned little Nurse Ella.

Jesse, peeved at his siblings lack of order, comes up and makes fussy noises in Jack’s ear as his baby brother swats at him like his mouth is a mosquito. “Ya ok, daddy?” he asks, the first selfless inquiry of this whole ordeal -alright Ella did too.

Elvis gives him a sober nod that the scarf will live to see another day. “Scarf’s fine and gonna make it.”

“No i’s not! We gonna chop it off!” Rosalee insists and Elvis would laugh that off except Daisy is up the beach bartering her juice box for Rex’s k-bar.

“Oh, honey now, that won’t solve nothin,” Elvis begs as he wraps his arms fully around her and smushes Rosalee till both their ribs are liable to crack.

Rosalee pulls her head out of his neck and cradles his cheeks in her hands and says while looking earnestly into his eyes with blues the same shade as his own, “Is’ better this way, daddy, s’never gonna hurt ya again. Promise.”

“It’s for de bestest, Elbis,” Jack agrees right at his shoulder like a tiny little devil and Elvis begins to panic slightly as his children’s wild terror cools into calculated anarchy. “Wosalee knows it’s gonna wot off odderwise,” he adds gravely as if this is common knowledge.

This induces a fresh bout of tears from Rosalee who may be resigned to the need to chop off a limb to save her father’s entire life -or at least have Daisy do her bidding- but it doesn’t mean that she’s immune to the grief the prospect causes them both. Elvis feels close to crying himself as Daisy rushes back towards them over the sand with the sheathed k-bar in hand.

“Rex why the hell did ya give my kid a knife!” he yells.

“She said you wanted it and would fire me if I refused!” Rex shoots back from where he and Charlie and Red are collecting all the beach paraphernalia, the evening truly setting in.

“Rex!” Betsy scolds, echoing Elvis in exasperation with her husband.

“Be a man about it, Daddy!” A breathless Daisy charges him as she skids to a stop nearby only for Elaine to grip her by the back of her swimsuit and haul her away from Elvis where he’s pinned and helpless under the mournful embrace of Rosalee and Jesse and a gleeful Jack.

“Nope, no Daisy, no, give it to me, now!” Elaine wrestles her most wiry and vicious daughter until the army knife is safely in her possession. “Nobody is gonna chop off anythin’,” she declares, winded from the chaos and yet utterly glutted from being in her element and Elvis thinks she looks gorgeous all keyed up and holding a child or two and a knife so effortlessly. Thinks he made the right choice when he married Elaine Phipps and filled her up with all those children.

“But what about it wotting?” Jack protests, as if he really gives a damn about Elvis ever peeing ever again.

“It won’t rot,” Elaine sighs, “It’s not that badly hurt at all.” And she adds that for Rosalee’s benefit as the girl’s cheeks are so smashed to Elvis’ own that there’s no discernible edge to the flub.

“But we wanna be careful,” Rosalee protests, “This can neber happen again.” And she sounds like Mr. Truman did after the great war ended, swearing that the universe wouldn’t make it in a nuclear age.

“Lil Elvis is my little friend, I don’t want him hurt either!” Elaine insists and between his children’s misguided concern for him and his wife making a court case for his assets, Elvis has never felt more loved.

“Daddy’s my best friend too, but I gotta help him,” Rosalee insists.

“But darling -I did help him!” Elaine mutturs.

“Didn’t sound like it got better,” Ella speaks up and Elaine glares at Elvis for being such a baby during his first aid.

“Billy says men can still pee without them,” Sam Harrison adds in support of Rosalee’s ambition and Daisy gives him a proud look for his display of spine.

“How do ya-“ Elaine looks flustered for the first time and Elvis winces in anticipation for what she’ll defend him with next, “-peeing would hurt, Sammy! Hurt worse than sand up scarves!” Elaine reasons.

“Sounds like it.” Jesse sides with mama.

“But if he don’t have a rocket it won’t hurt to pee-pee!” Daisy vehemently enunciates. “And Rosalee’ll stop cryin.”

It’s that simple for the twin.

Elaine looks up to her friend Besty who’s still standing near the group, helpless in a fit of laughter and holding half wadded up towels. “We aren’t cutting off my lil friend,” Elaine declares staunchly, standing up herself in the sand and wincing as a struggling Daisy elbows her in the ribs.

“Why don’t ya care that daddy’s hurt?” Rosalee asks with grief in her eyes.

“It’s gonna wot off.” There goes Jack again.

Elvis snorts and rolls his eyes heavenward, pinching the bridge of his nose and praying for a sliver of patience.“Hush up, Trouble. I’ve had just about enough outta you.”

“Do y’all want more siblings or not?” Elaine finally asks and even Elvis is a little jolted by it. “Cause without that nozzle there ain’t any peeing or babies or all sorts of important things. Y’all could manage without your noses far easier.”

Jack rallies to declare, “I’m baby, don’t want more sibwings,” and is summarily ignored by all in favor of pondering nozzles and their newly learned miraculous necessity.

“Elaine!” Elvis hisses at her indiscreet lesson.

“It’s true!” she cries, throwing up her hands in exasperation, and he’s maybe to blame for the fact she’s got no filter, he taught her without any precaution and now she’s half savage about these things.

“Rockets don’t rot off when they get enough care. Just like any other boo boo,” Elvis assures his group of concerned progeny as Elaine pulls Jack away from his father by the arm not occupied with Daisy.

“I can’t wait to play thirty questions with Sam tonight,” Betsy drawls sarcastically and Elaine huffs.

“Serves ya right, much help you were, Blue Eyes.” Elaine rolls her eyes at her friend and both women laugh. “Consider it payment for Rex’s K-Bar,” she adds and watches as Betsy’s face pales again at the recollection of her husband’s stupidity.

“That man…” she grumbles fondly while taking a squawking Jack off Elaine’s hip to free her friend up for more child wrangling. Elaine mouths a weary “thank you” and kneels next to Elvis, gently prying Rosalee out of his arms where she still clings to his neck. She lets out a small whine of protest which is quickly overtaken by a big yawn, her little fists rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Come on baby, let’s get you dressed, hmm? It’s time to go home,” she murmurs, pulling a sundress over Roselee’s tiny frame before turning to help Daisy into her matching one, kissing her forehead tenderly and smoothing her hair down. Betsy and Rex start the slow procession of herding the gaggle of children towards the car, making sure everyone has a hand to hold. Elaine can still hear them chattering loudly about rockets and nozzles as she flops down in the sand, catching her breath a moment, trying to find the willpower to stand, to move. It’s been such a lovely day, but suddenly she’s bone tired, the exhaustion hitting her like a wave and threatening to pull her under.

Jerry ambles over as the guys start to gather everyone’s scattered belongings - beach umbrellas and chairs and coolers, remnants of a day well spent. He stares down at Elvis over the top of his aviator shades, the amusement on his face still threatening to spill over. He holds out a hand, “Help you up, Boss?”

Elvis scowls, swatting his hand away indignantly, “Don’t need no help, Jerrah, it’s just a scratch. Actin’ like I’m too wounded to stand on my own. I’m not an invalid, goddamnit! Git outta here and help those boys clean up this mess. God almighty, think I was a child, need some hand-holding or some shit.” He continues his grumbling as Jerry holds up his hands placatingly, shrugging his shoulders good-naturedly before jogging over to help the clean up crew.

Elvis watches him go, making sure he’s well out of sight before gingerly standing up, shaking a leg and adjusting his swim shorts, hopping from foot to foot a few times, hissing quietly. It snaps Elaine out of her reverie and she blinks slowly as a face-splitting yawn hits her out of nowhere. Elvis chuckles and pats her head, gently tugging on the chocolate curls that have become bouncy spirals in the salty ocean air.

“Ok Laney, let’s get you home. Had enough excitement today to last us the whole year,” Elvis chuckles, winking as he offers her a hand.

Elaine smiles up at him, shading her eyes with a red manicured hand, the setting sun casting a warm orange glow over the beach and making her movie star husband look even more like a bronzed Adonis, if that’s possible. She places her small and delicate hands into his larger ones as he hauls her up easily, wrapping her in his arms and resting his chin on the top of her head. She sighs dreamily, shivering a little in his embrace as his body heat warms her against the chilly sea breeze.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, rubbing slow circles on her back. She shifts a little, resting her head on his shoulder and looking up at him quizzically.

“For what, E?”

“Whatcha mean, ‘for what?’ For-for always takin’ such good care o’ me. Even when I’m a grumpy sonuvabitch about it.” Elvis smiles down at her, planting a little kiss on her button nose. She wrinkles it and arches up on her tippy toes, rubbing her nose against his in a bunny kiss, her hand cupping his jaw lightly.

“Oh Mopey, I’ll always take care of you. Sweet man.” Elaine runs a thumb across his lips, pulling down his plump bottom one before slotting her lips against his, her hands twining through his mussed hair, moving his head just so, like her own personal puppet on a string. Elvis groans, moving his hands to cup her bottom, pulling her tightly to him. Just then he hears a shuffling of sand behind them, someone discreetly clearing their throat. He sighs, like the most put upon man on the planet and pulls away, gritting his teeth, “What now, Jerrah?”

“Sorry boss, but everyone’s all packed up and ready to go. Just waiting on you and Mrs. Boss.”

Elaine smiles at Elvis’s look of utter hurt and disappointment at being interrupted just when things were getting good, like a little boy who’s just had his favorite toy taken away. She knocks him on the chin playfully, swatting his butt for good measure. “Oh now, don’t look so blue, mister. To be continued at home, yeah? In the meantime, how bout I buy you a milkshake. Swing by Mel’s Drive In on the way home?”

Elvis’s face brightens at that. “Can I have strawberry?” Suddenly the little boy look is back, and he practically skips across the sand, dragging Elaine by the hand to their car full of waiting children. Elaine gives Betsy a peck on the cheek and a sweet belly rub to the little bean inside before hopping in the driver’s side and waiting for Elvis to finish his goodbyes. She turns around to address her children only to find that all but two of them are fast asleep. Jesse and Jack are still discussing the events of the day, with Jack holding a sandy handful of shells and beach glass he collected, carefully explaining each piece to a patient Jesse. By the time they reach the drive in diner, all of the kids are snoozing, and the weary parents breathe a sigh of relief.

“Just us then,” Elaine whispers, looking over her shoulder at their brood. “Just like old times. Almost.” She turns off the car and scoots to the middle of the bench seat, and Elvis does the same, careful not to wake little Rosalee snuggled between them. He drops his arm over Elaine’s shoulders and twists the knob on radio dial until he finds a doo wop station.

“Now it really is like old times. ‘Member when I crashed your date with Billy at the drive in movie? Scared that poor boy half to death,” he chuckles gleefully. Elaine’s eyes grow wide and she starts to titter, her hand flying to her mouth at the recollection.

“Oh goodness. Elvis! I’d completely forgotten about that. You came barging in with your flashlight and ill or good intentions, I never could figure out which,” she muses.

“Then I drove ya home, real proper like,” he breathes quietly, placing a hand on her thigh, an echo of a memory. “And then,” he murmurs, tilting her head back, exposing her long, white throat, “I kissed ya, right…here…” His soft lips meet the pulse on her neck, pounding in time with her heartbeat.

Elaine shivers and swallows. “Naughty,” she whispers.

The magic spell is broken abruptly by a gum-chewing teenage waitress, knocking on their window. “Hi there! Can I take your order?” Her chipper cheerfulness is a stark contrast to their soft reminiscence. Elvis clears his throat and sits up, coloring slightly at being caught by this stranger as Elaine winks at him, leaning over to roll down the window to order their milkshakes. They settle in again, snuggling back together and regaling each other with stories from their beach day. Before long the milkshakes arrive, and they tuck in, enjoying the sweet sugar rush of the milky treat.

“God, how long has it been since I’ve had a milkshake?” Elvis wonders, sipping his strawberry concoction happily. Elaine doesn’t have the heart to tell him it’s been a good long while, that the Colonel doesn’t allow such simple pleasures these days. But she doesn’t want to spoil the moment so she settles for humming in response, squeezing Elvis’s knee as she slurps her chocolate one.

Elvis scoots a little closer to Elaine, forgetting about Rosalee squished between them. She startles in her sleep, her tiny arm flailing in the neon lights of the diner, inadvertently knocking Elvis’s shake from his hands. In a flash everything is covered in pink - it dribbles slowly down the dashboard and soaks into Elvis’s thin shirt, it’s even in his hair and a small blob drips down his right eyebrow. Elaine’s face is a mixture of horror and mirth, her perfect mouth a round o as she struggles to keep a straight face, staring at her husband who is frozen in place, covered in cold strawberry milkshake.

“Oh! Elvis…baby! I…” she starts, struggling to keep her voice steady, her hands fluttering around him, unsure of where they should try and help first. She bites her lip and an unladylike snort escapes as her shoulders start to tremble with held-in laughter. She starts to giggle, slapping her hand hastily over her mouth, her body shaking with silent laughter as she tries to keep quiet, not wanting to wake the children. Elvis’s blue eyes blink rapidly as the concoction runs down his cheek now, his mouth still hanging open in surprise. He starts to laugh, doubling over in his seat as Elaine reaches over and swipes a finger across his eyebrow and brings it to her mouth, sucking the sugary sweetness off her fingertip.

“You taste good, honey,” she wheezes as their laughter starts to die down and he remembers Rosalee between them, checking to make sure she’s ok and by some miracle she’s untouched by the ice cream bath she accidentally gave her father, still sleeping peacefully.

“Aw hell! My leather seats!” Elvis swears through hiccups, looking around for something to clean the car, and himself, up with.

“Shawbewies?” A little voice from the backseat whispers, followed by a blonde head sleepily popping up over the backseat. “I want some.” Jack opens and closes his tiny hands in a gimme motion, and Elvis and Elaine start to crack up again.

“Just perfect. Here Trouble, here’s some for ya,” Elvis says as he sweeps some shake off the dashboard with his fingers and leans back towards Jack, shoulder almost dislocating in an effort to feed the kid a taste. Jack happily laps it off his fingers like a kitten, licking them clean. His sleepy little face breaks into a happy grin and Elvis ruffles his hair. “That’s enough sugar for today, boy.”

Elvis looks at Elaine. She stares back at him a moment before another fit of giggles threatens to overtake them again. “Why’re we never alone in a car, baby?” Elvis whispers aloud, a comically pleading hint to his voice. Elaine reaches behind her, into the backseat, and snags a forgotten beach towel tossed aside by one of the children. She gently wipes his face clean before moving on to his hair, rubbing as much of the ice cream out as she can. It sticks up on end, making him look much like their cat Whiskers did whenever he got a bath.

“You’re the one who wanted to fill up my little house, remember?” she teases softly, her eyes drifting over their brood before returning to meet Elvis’s gaze. He raises an eyebrow, cheeks puffing out in droll amusement as he whistles lowly.

“Yeah, with somethin’ besides strawberry milkshake, I did.”

Hope y’all enjoyed!

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. Xoxo 💋

@prompted-wordsmith

@powerofelvis

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

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#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis #fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis and me #elvis presley fic #welcome home elvis #elvis presley fan fic #elvis fans

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agtteam · 3 months ago

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AGT Team July - August Progress Report

There are big changes ahead! Namely...

The AGT Team has a new home!

After weeks of working away, we're excited to finally be able to launch our new website! It's a one-stop shop where you can find news and downloads for all of our projects, as well as patch your games online and get detailed guides on how to play them. We hope it'll help make our translations more accessible to all. Go check it out!

We'll still be answering asks/messages on tumblr, as well as cross-posting any major announcements here. So with that in mind, let's dive into this month's progress report...

[NDS] Naruto RPG 2: Chidori Vs Rasengan

We're pleased to announce that there's big news for Naruto fans too! In fact, you could say we're now on the Path to Release™.

Please keep your eyes peeled for more coming soon!

[NDS] Death Note: Successors to L

Moving from one big milestone to another; Successors to L is now over 50% translated thanks to the hard work of translator creeper!

The tutorial and story mode cutscenes are now fully translated, with the remaining text coming from the board-game sections, in which there are hundreds of unique character lines to discover.

On the hacking side, more work remains to be done on the VWF and wordwrapping in order to get the inserted translations looking as we want them.

[PS2] Fullmetal Alchemist 3: Kami o Tsugu Shoujo

Update on "Fullmetal Alchemist 3: Kami o tsugu shoujo" by Iredc - There's been quite a lot of progress in the font department, where Illidian solved many bugs like wordwrapping. A variable width font has been implemented as well.

Around half the graphics are already edited by Phantom (CG Gallery still on the works). As for the text translation, the main story, menus and quests were translated by myself (Iredc). The scenes with Winry and Sophie at the church are still pending translation.

Apart from this, we're working on some issues when generating the patch file (this game has a weird ISO format), and need to find a way to insert subtitles during the cutscenes.

This project looks very promising so far, so don't forget to check on our updates from time to time!

[NDS] Mushishi: Amefuru Sato

Ithyrial here with another update!

Those pesky bugs have been (mostly) taken care of, and the playtesting/proofreading phase has been opened! We've already brought on a few people, but that doesn't mean we don't have room for more, so please feel free to contact us if you're interested in helping out!

Other

As some may be aware, we started a translation project for Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion on Nintendo DS in early 2022. Unfortunately the project has made very little progress during this time as other things always demanded our attention. However, we're pleased to say that the project has found a new home with it's original leader, Lance, where we hope that it will thrive and receive the attention it deserves. Japanese translators who may be interested in helping out should please contact Lance#6642 on Discord!

#naruto #death note #fullmetal alchemist #mushishi #team news

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simpxxstan · 1 year ago

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perfect complements (ch. 4)

pairing: professor!seungcheol x professor!f.reader

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, angst, smut

series summary: four and a half years of working together breeds familiarity, resentment, and everything in between. it's almost like living together.

series word count (till current chapter): 10.4k

chapter word count: 3.1k

rating: 18+

warnings: slight bickering, description of makeout between seungcheol and oc (not with reader) and vague descriptions of fingering. curse words being used.

a/n: i'm sorry for the late update! i've been going through a hard time these few days, but i'm trying to distract myself! this is a filler chapter ig? i'm sorry if it's taking too long for any action between the reader and coups to start, but i really want to build the story up. it's slow burn for a reason hehe thank you so much for reading! <3

taglist for the fic: @minhui896

series masterlist

Seungcheol’s phone pops up with a notification as he makes his way to Dr. Lee’s chambers. He knows you’ve already been here once before, but he has actively avoided the staffroom all day so that he doesn’t get caught in your and Minhee’s crossfire again. It’s best for him to keep his distance when you’re pissed. He knows, no matter what the reason, you’ll end up bursting at him.

“Hello, Prof. Choi. How are you today?”

“Same as usual, I guess. I can’t believe it’s Valentine's Week already.”

Dr. Lee laughs, their laugh slightly whimsical but purposeful. Seungcheol feels oddly comforted by the Counsellor but also a little nervous. He’s being constantly analysed, and it’s not a good feeling. But they know how to get him at ease too.

“Why? Is Valentine’s Week important to you?”

“Aah well. If I don’t tell you, she will. It reminds me of what happened the first February I was here.”

Seungcheol had absolutely no clue what was going on in college. Perhaps being away from the dating market for so long had made him forget all about this. Plus, his mind was all caught up with the conference. It was the first time he was getting to organise something in this college, and as a new Professor, he had to impress everyone. He had the crazy urge to prove himself worthy of the post: many had said he was too young for it, but he was determined to prove them wrong. So when Prof. Y/L/N had offered that the two of you take up the duties this time to organise the department’s Annual Winter Conference, he had readily taken up the opportunity.

Of course, everything was fine with Prof. Y/L/N now. You had explained to him that you were having a shitty day and couldn’t control your emotions, given your periods had been giving you hell, and the very day after that, you had both gone to watch the new play being performed by the University’s Drama Club, together. Along with a lot of laughs and a lot of meaningful conversations, Seungcheol had hoped he had made his first friend in University. The academic atmosphere had daunted him at first, since he was the youngest, but seeing you had made him braver. He had someone by his side to help him, instead of judging him.

It also helped that he found you unimaginably beautiful.

Seungcheol was, by no means, an innocent boy. Yes, he hadn’t dated properly for very long, but he was no playboy either. He liked to keep his commitments minimal, given that most of his 20s had been spent cooped up in the library, drowning in coffee and real analysis theorems. He had enjoyed pursuing academics, but it had effectively stolen his social life from him. His romantic life, too. His love life had ended with his undergraduate course, and since then, he had been happily married to his thesis.

Except, now. Now, things were different. Because you had entered his life. Not just that, Seungcheol had found himself economically and socially stable after several years. He could finally spend time with his family, live in his own rented apartment, take care of his pet dog as he liked, and eat out almost twice a week, and still have enough money to indulge in a new game being released at the end of the month. Meeting you at this perfect time made him want to go all in, and take his chances at love. After all, he was twenty seven now. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again, would he?

Naturally, he couldn’t give up on the chance to co-convene the conference with you this year. He really respected you- both from a professional point of view, and personally; well, as much as he did know about you. It wasn’t much, you weren’t a great oversharer, but there was one thing that he knew for sure- he enjoyed spending time with you, and he was looking forward to meeting you every day.

“Seungcheol! You’re here. Are we good to go? I think the guest speakers are about to arrive in a few minutes!” You were smiling nervously, but still looked incredibly put together. Your hair was tied up in a bun, revealing your soft cheeks and the new earrings you had donned just for the event. This was the first time he was seeing you wear a dress, and he could feel himself tipping a little more into this mini project of his.

“Y/N, please don’t worry! I’ve got the volunteers briefed, and everything will work like clockwork.”

Unfortunately for Choi Seungcheol, everything did not work like clockwork.

It was the last hour of the conference, the time for the students to gather in a group discussion moderated by the two of you, and discuss your findings, thoughts and questions about the presentations and papers presented by the various guests of the day. With the majority of the workload done, and surrounded by familiar faces, Seungcheol felt much relaxed, and had rolled up his sleeves and settled down into a chair for the first time that day. After running around all day, this informal session felt like a blessing.

You sat down next to him, and all the other students settled down in a scattered, approximate circle. The flow of the conversation began easily, with you smiling and picking up the pace. The students, eager and wide-eyed, kept chattering, and the enthusiasm reminded Seungcheol of himself. The discussion was largely informal, and it felt like a group of likeminded people sitting together, not a hierarchical group of students and professors. It was an atmosphere that made him very happy.

Of course, it also made him very happy that you seemed to be more and more comfortable with him as the day passed by. It manifested in little things, but they were enough to make Choi Seungcheol feel giddy like a schoolboy again. Like how you keenly listened to his comments, and appreciated his thought process. How you contributed to every discussion he initiated, how you ensured he didn’t get left out in the discussions. How you touched his hand once while asking him about something. How you unintentionally (or intentionally?) stared for a second too long at him, and he had caught you in the act.

It was an extremely successful day, he concluded, and he went home feeling the happiest he had been in recent times. He had felt included in the University community, and that was what he had truly wanted for all these days. It felt so relieving.

But all that was going to change the next morning.

He arrived at college in a happy mood, not realising why suddenly there was a galore of roses being carried around the college campus by students. He grabbed his usual Americano from the canteen, before making his way to the staffroom, delightfully greeting every student and professor he met on the way. The campus seemed to be bursting with energy today, but he simply couldn’t realise why. Not that he cared. He was just as energetic today-

“Care to explain this, Prof. Choi?”

You’re standing there, hands on your hips, Wonwoo, the Dean from Social Sciences next to you, and the other professors of the department also in that room. He can’t make out what’s written in the letter that you’re holding up, but as he steps closer, he can see it:

CHEOLLIE AND Y/N SITTING ON A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

Below the words, there were small roses drawn and pictures of iconic scenes from the k-drama, ‘Boys Over Flowers’ stuck on the page.

“What’s this?” He asked, still clueless. Wonwoo stepped up, and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s the first day of Valentine’s Week. Someone left this on Y/N’s desk…”

The dots finally connected in Seungcheol’s head. The students had… shipped them? It was surprising, funny but extremely absurd. He had the urge to laugh it off, but then he stopped himself seeing the furious look on your face. He realised it had offended you in some way, although he saw it as a joke.

“I’m sorry, Y/N… I don’t know-”

“Do you realise how unprofessional this is? How desperate this makes me look?”

“Desperate?”

“Of course they thought a woman would fall in love with the first man they saw entering the campus. It’s disrespectful, Choi Seungcheol, do you not see that?”

“I think it’s not as big as you think. It’s just a joke by the students-”

“Joke? Wonwoo, please explain to him.”

Wonwoo enlarged his eyes, but quickly took the signal and asked Seungcheol to step out with him.

“I swear I didn’t do anything!”

“I know Seugncheol. I’ve known you for long enough to know you’re not dumb to seduce your colleague. But everyone can see your crush on Y/N.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to finally be shocked. “What? It’s really nothing like that!”

“Okay. Even if I accept what you’re saying… I’m not saying you’re at fault for this. Kids pull this kind of prank all the time. They shipped me and another Professor from the Linguistics department for years, before everyone got to know that she was gay and I was marrying someone else. But I understand why Y/N may feel sensitive about these things. All I’m suggesting is-” he raised his hand to prevent Seungcheol from cutting in, “keep a little bit of distance? Until the rumours die out and she feels comfortable again. We can’t have a hostile environment in the department, can we?”

Seungcheol chuckles at the end of the story.

“Look where we are now.”

He had recounted almost all of the incident with Dr. Lee, albeit not going into too much details about his love interest in Prof. Y/L/N.

“It’s a very interesting story, I must say,” Dr. Lee had a smile of their face as well, seeming quite amused by the narration. “So you liked her?”

“A little. Quickly snubbed out, as you can make out. After these things, I kept my distance, and obviously, whatever inkling of… feelings had emerged… died out. I was back to neutral within a few weeks.”

“And what about your friendship?”

“Friendship?”

“Your relationship. Did it ever go back to normal? As it was before this thing?”

Seungcheol pauses. He’s not quite sure. Perhaps because it’s been so long, and he has largely forgotten? He doesn’t know how exactly the relationship would have been even if the incident hadn’t happened. There would be other things to destroy it, of course, as time had shown.

“I don’t think so. But then, it’s hard to define normal. We were friendly, like new colleagues who instantly don’t hate each other are. But since then, as we worked together for longer, and as my… emotions became absolutely neutral, we discovered irks in each other pretty soon. We never ended up being as friendly as then, again. I don’t think we would’ve been anyway.”

“And if she had liked you back?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He prefers not to think about it, a situation he could envision in only an alternate, distant universe.

“She could never.”

It’s the truth. He knows it’s best not to lie to Dr. Lee.

Valentine’s Week is one of the few weeks in the year when the entire city is bustling. There’s the excitement of new love, hope of requiting crushes, and the thrill of the chase, all punched together. It’s also the beginning of spring, and Kkuma, on such days, really enjoys walking through parks, running in fresh green grass dazzling with dew, and making Seungcheol run after her.

Today, she’s dressed up with tiny pink clips sparkling in her carefully trimmed white hair. Today, Seungcheol isn’t running behind her. He’s instead sitting on the bench, surfing through his phone, as Kkuma runs small laps around him. There’s no chance of her straying away, she’s too dependent on him for survival and she loves being spoilt.

“Oppa?”

Seungcheol looks up from his phone to see Hyerin standing in front of him, dressed in tracks. Running in the park, clearly. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you came to the park?”

“I came here for Kkuma-ya. You?”

“Can't go to the gym these days. So I’ve switched to running. Mind if I join you?” Seungcheol shifts up on the bench, and Hyerin flops down on it, next to him. “Tired? Take a sip from my Americano-” he brings the coffee to her lips, and she sucks in through the straw. “Aah, too much ice!” He giggles, before taking a sip himself. “I like it this way. You don’t have to drink it.” “Yaah! Oppa!” She snatches it a bit, sips again, and puts it back in Seungcheol’s hands.

“Do you want to get breakfast?”

She smiles, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Breakfast becomes another walk along the sunny streets of Seoul, which turns into grabbing beer before lunch, and after another hearty meal at a street food fair, Seungcheol finally takes Hyerin home. They’d been stalling it for long enough, he thinks, and he definitely does like her a lot. Better to settle down with her than any other random woman his mother decided to set him up on a blind date with.

“Kkuma’s watching us,” Hyerin whispers breathlessly, panting between kisses, as she leans away from Seungcheol’s body to look at the small dog sitting far away from them but still with her eyes fixed on the two of them.

Seungcheol laughs. “See? This is why I told you Kkuma doesn’t like it when I bring over girls.”

“But she’s okay with you bringing over your colleague from work?” Hyerin doesn’t sound jealous, she’s too busy unbuttoning Seungcheol’s shirt. “Kkuma wasn’t at home then. My brother had taken her away for the day.” “Lucky woman, your colleague.” And her mouth is back on his, and they slobber around, making out furiously, even while the sun still shines on them from the open windows. Seungcheol’s hands grab her waist tightly as he lifts her up. He then moves away from couch and slowly makes his way to the bed, not leaving Hyerin’s mouth even once. When he’s finally laid her down on the bed and taken off her pants, the phone in the back pocket of his jeans rings. He’s tempted to ignore it, more interested in Hyerin’s bloodshot eyes staring at him hungrily and the way she’s reacting to his hands stroking over her thighs. But the phone keeps ringing, and the sound is annoying, so he takes out the phone to turn off the volume.

Except he sees the name tag.

It’s you.

“Hello?” Seungcheol can hear Hyerin gasp in frustration, but he can’t help but take the call. He knows you never call him unless it’s an emergency, so this must be serious.

“Prof. Choi? This is Prof. Y/L/N.”

“Yes I know. What is it?”

“Am I disturbing you? Your voice sounds curious and Seungcheol gets pissed at the stalling. “Yes, could you please tell me why you called?” “Sorry about that then, I’ll be quick. It’s just that-” “Yes?” “Hey, why so impatient?” “Prof. Y/L/N, it’s a Sunday. I’m busy, I have a personal life as well. Now could we please get on with this quickly?”

“Prof. Choi, you know about the upcoming seminar in Singapore that our department was taking the UnderGrad students for? For the annual field trip?”

“Yes?”

“And you know how Minhee was going to come along with me for the trip?”

“I do know that.”

“Well, her sister’s getting married that weekend. We just got to know, I swear!”

“We?” Seungcheol feels so lost in this conversation.

“Yeah, well, Minhee and I. We’re actually hanging out together, right now.” “Okay? And why are you suddenly telling me about Minhee’s sister’s wedding?” “Oh, just that. Wonwoo asked me to ask you, if you’d like to come along. Minghao is really busy for that weekend with meetings for his America thing, so I really had no option but to ask you.”

There’s a very loud pause. Seungcheol is facing away from Hyerin, but he can hear her breathing clearly in the silence. She’s real sweet, waiting patiently for him to finish the call, even if he’s left her without any context.

“You can’t go alone?”

“I did tell Wonwoo I’d go alone, I am literally 33. He said no, it’s not nice to send just one professor when they’ve already made arrangements for two.”

“Can’t we send one of the PhD students? They’ll get good exposure too.”

“There are over 30 kids. Not sure how much exposure a PhD student can get from handling kids-”

“Kids who are all in their 20s. This isn’t a kindergarten field trip.”

“I’m just telling you what Wonwoo would say. I know it because I’ve suggested these exact same things to him as well.”

Another pause. Seungcheol can hear Hyerin touch herself, the sounds giving it away. He turns around and sees his suspicions confirmed. It’s an irresistible sight, her eyes closed in focus, and with the afternoon sun falling on her skin, she does look heavenly.

Fuck you for keeping him away from this delight.

He steps closer to Hyerin, and joins her, taking her by surprise. She moans, and he hopes you weren’t able to hear it.

“Listen. I’ll let you know if I can make it. But I don’t think I’ll be free next weekend, so don’t count on me-”

“Wonwoo asked me to tell you that this would be the last step to our ‘therapy’ thing. I may have blackmailed him into agreeing to this, because he forced me to call you up.”

Seungcheol can’t focus on the phone call anymore, not with the pretty sounds Hyerin keeps muffling up, but this perks his attention. Freedom from that bullshit finally. He’d been tired of turning up to the Counsellor’s office and getting analysed by their squinty little eyes. Especially when you both had to attend together. It was getting embarrassing now, as students across the university heard rumours about this therapy thing. It was bad enough that everyone knew how much you two dislike each other. Even worse now that they thought you both needed couples’ therapy to get over your petty fights.

Damn Wonwoo for being a smartass. Seungcheol has known this since childhood but he keeps falling for his moves each time. He can never win against Wonwoo.

“Seungcheol? Are you still there?”

“Okay Prof. Y/L/N.”

“Huh?”

“I said okay. I’m in. For the next weekend. Bye now.” Thank god he has Hyerin falling apart on his touch right now, before his mind twists and falls into a trap, thinking about the potential dangers of what he just agreed to.

“Oppa! I’m- I’m- aaah!” Hyerin’s voice is loud, and he sinks headfirst into her. “I’m here, princess. Oppa’s right here.”

#choi seungcheol #s.coups #s.coups x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fluff #seventeen series #s.coups series #s.coups fluff #s.coups fanfiction #seungcheol fanfiction #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol series #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #seventeen fanfic #perfect complements series #simpxxstan

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semisgroupie · 2 years ago

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off my chest

gojo satoru x fem. reader

wc: 1.4k

warnings: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, lots of l bombs, unprotected sex, creampie, just loving soft sex, alcohol, so kinda slight dubcon since reader and satoru were drinking

synopsis: a typical Valentine’s Day tradition turns into a night you’ll never forget

a/n: this is for dom @yofumi for snow’s @suyacho server valentines gift exchange! happy valentine’s day dom, i hope you have a wonderful day and most of all, i hope you enjoy this

You and Satoru have known each other for years and throughout the years, you two have developed a little tradition.

That being, whenever it was Valentine’s Day, you two would just spend the night together eating whatever garbage you two could afford, normally pizza, and drinking whatever cheap booze you two could get your hands on. The tradition started when you both were college students, the combination of being very broke and very single on the day of love gave birth to the tradition you two have today.

Now, you two had more money since starting your careers but there wasn’t much luck in the love department for either of you. You didn’t really put yourself out there often because there was this invisible force that just held you back. You couldn’t put your finger on it at first but the more time you spent with Satoru, you slowly started understanding it. You buried your feelings for him in fear or ruining your friendship but they constantly threatened to breach the surface whenever you tried to open your heart to new possibilities. Your mind would scream at you to move on, find someone new to love but your heart kept the hope that one day you could find the courage to speak on your feelings.

You weren’t sure why Satoru hadn’t dated anyone since you two have known each other. You knew tons of people that have been interested in him and have wanted to pursue a relationship with him but he ended up turning them down for some unknown reason. Maybe he had a specific type that no one fit, maybe he didn’t want to be in a relationship, deep down you hoped that he was facing the same struggle you were but you wouldn’t linger on that hope for too long.

You two sat on the couch in his apartment, the pizza box sat on the coffee table with a few slices still inside, the wine and bottles of beer sat on the table long forgotten as you two watched the movie playing on the screen. Well, you were watching the movie and Satoru was watching you, his eyes tracing along your features as you focused on the screen.

After feeling his eyes on you, you turned to look over at him. “Everything alright, Satoru?” You leaned over to grab the remote and pause the movie so you could keep your full attention on him. He chuckled and nodded, not realizing how intense and how long he was staring at you. “Yeah, I know it’s probably the weirdest time to say this but I love you. I’ve always had the feeling, whenever I’m away from you I yearn to be with you, whenever I’m near you I feel all nervous. But I think now is when I can positively say it, I love you.”

Your eyes widened at his words and you were slightly taken aback. “What? You’re just saying that because of how much you drank.” It hurt you to even say that but that was the only explanation you could come up with. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to say it back but you didn’t want it to end up being one sided. “Actually, you drank more than I did but if you don’t believe me I can just show you.”

Before you could really process his words he moved closer to you, closing the distance until he was right next to you. He lifted his hands to cup your face and pulled you close, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kissed him back, you couldn’t believe this was happening. Not once would you have thought tonight would end like this.

The kiss was slow at first, your lips molded against each others perfectly and every movement was experimental, not taking it too far just in case either one of you snapped to your senses. But that didn’t happen, it wasn’t going to happen, not tonight and not ever. Wanting each other for so long just turned into insatiable need and now that you two finally had each other, it was only time to act on all your emotions.

He moved his hands down from your face and gripped your waist to pull you onto his lap. You pulled back slightly to catch your breath and rested your hands on his shoulders. “I love you too, Satoru.” Your words came out between heavy breaths and a smile grew on his face. “I can’t describe how happy I am to hear that from you.” He pulled you back in for another kiss and his hands moved along your body. He wished he was able to grow more hands so he could feel all of you at once but he had to settle for what his two hands could hold onto.

His hands moved slightly underneath the shirt you were wearing to touch your bare skin while the kiss grew more heated. Instinctively you started grinding your hips against his, humping him as his tongue explored your mouth. As the kiss continued, clothes soon hit the floor until you were both completely naked.

Satoru’s eyes scanned your body while his hands moved up and down your sides. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect. Even better than my wildest dreams.” His hands grazed the undersides of your breasts before taking them into his hands, gently massaging them while your hand moved down to his cock, slowly stroking it. “Wanna feel you inside me Satoru, wanna ride you so badly.” Your tone was needier than you wanted it to be but you could care less.

“Then come on and ride me, I’m not stopping you.” He moved his hands back to your hips and guided you as you gripped his cock and slowly sank down. Your head rolled back as his cock invaded your gummy walls, stretching them to fit him inside you completely. A gasp left your lips as you sank your hips down completely. “Take your time baby, there’s no rush.” You rested your hands on his shoulders and pressed your forehead against his as you grinded down against him. “So big, you feel so big inside me, Toru.”

Your moans sounded like the perfect song to his ears, all the nights he fantasized about what you’d sound like couldn’t compare to the real thing. Nothing he imagined couldn’t compare to this moment now. You started bouncing and he squeezed your hips before wrapping his arms around you to keep you close to him. “‘M gonna take control here okay, baby? I need this and I know how bad you need this too. Gonna love you the way I should have been all this time.”

He kept a tight grip on you as he started thrusting up, starting off slow at first before picking up the pace. His heavy balls smacked against the curve of your ass each time his hips met yours and your back arched beautifully, pressing your chest to his and making your perky nipples rub against his chest to provide the perfect amount of added stimulation.

“Right there, keep going right there Toru.” He kept his hips angled so he could hit your sweet spot over and over. You both knew that neither of you wouldn’t last long, all the pent up lust and need had been brewing for far too long. He moved one of his hands from around you and snaked to your clit, rubbing the swollen bud quickly with each of his heavy thrusts.

Your moans of his name grew louder and your nails dug into his shoulders. “Cumming! I’m cumming!” He helped you ride out your orgasm as your body shook against his and after a few more thrusts his cock throbbed and soon filled you with his sticky seed. He slammed you down against his hips and held you there as his cock twitched and his balls clenched.

You dropped your head onto his shoulder as you both caught your breath. “I love you, Satoru.” You pressed an open mouthed kiss to his slightly sweaty skin and he turned his head to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you more, baby. Now, we have a long night and a lot of time to make up so catch your breath. I’m going to show my love to you all night and most likely all morning long.”

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk gojo smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #tw:unprotected sex #tw:creampie #tw:alcohol #tw:dubcon

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anonymousbardd · 8 months ago

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꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: Her

Babysitter

↳ Eli Jang x FemReader

- Eli Jang doesn't trust anyone other than hostle to protect and care for his daughter, but when he needed his daughter to be taken care of, all family members of hostle was unexpectedly busy.

It lead to Eli Jang asking for help from a classmate he had on J high from the Beauty Department.

I had expected it... Of course someone like her would be concerned about the fact that I have a daughter at such a young age.

But what surprised me is that she was willing to help and promised not to say anything unless she was given permission.

(F/n) had always been that one person my gut told me that I could trust, she isn't pushy and doesn't push boundaries.

I was hesitant but I decided to give her a high level of my trust, I trusted her to protect my daughter while I was away.

The night she came to my home, to hostle, she had packed a backpack and a list of things she wanted to ask me.

"Is Yenna allergic to anything? What type of food does she eat? When's her bedtime? What's her favourite story book? Is her skin sensitive? What time does she bathe?"

She was ready to do her part and do whatever it takes to take care of my daughter, I felt a slight relief and gave her all the information she needed to know.

I was worried that she might be weirded out due to how protective I was, but she just stood there, listening to everything I say, asking questions for clarifications.

By the time I had finished, Yenna was already tired, (F/n) smiled and picked her up, she looked at me with her (E/c) eyes, "Don't worry, Eli, you can trust Yenna with me," she smiled.

I didn't want to leave Yenna alone, but I had to, I sighed and nodded, "If something happens, call out for help from mama, and then immediately contact me."

(F/n) smiled and nodded her head, "Will do!"

I then left with Warren to finish some business that needed to be done, and as I did, I kept thinking about my daughter and how she's doing.

I was getting pretty distracted, if it wasn't for Warren reassuring me, I would have probably ran back home every chance I get just to check up on my daughter.

After a day or four of being out, I recieved a message from Sally, "Eli, when are you coming home? Yenna misses you".

By that time, Warren and I were already finished with the job anyway, I turned to the dark haired man and spoke, "Let's go back now."

He didn't get why we needed to hurry, but it was my daughter's calling that made me want to go home sooner.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊:「 ✦ Reader's Perspective ✦ 」

The day Eli asked me for a favour, I felt honoured to know that he trusted me to ask for my help, the moment he mentioned that he had a daughter, I felt a sudden shot of reflection.

He talked about his little girl with so much love, passion and care, he praised every little thing she does and even showed cute moments of her.

When Eli asked for my help to look after her, I couldn't say no, I just had the feeling that I had to.

I agreed to help him which seemed to surprise him, by then, I already knew the questions that ran in his head.

The night I met the young girl, I fell in love, she's beautiful, sweet, lively and adorable.

Her eyes held so much light, I couldn't help but love the little girl, Eli was understandably hesitant to have his daughter alone with a classmate he isn't too close to.

But eventually, he decided to entrust his daughter to me.

When Eli had left, I spent a lot of time playing with Yenna, I read to her, sang her lullabies.

Sally was there to help me with some stuff that I had difficulty with, over the short amount of time Yenna and I spent together, I felt bonded with the little girl.

One night, I was singing Yenna lullaby, when I had finished, I tucked her in and closed the lights, I had bought her glow in the dark stickers so that her room would have a bit of light.

As I was about to leave, Yenna cooed and sat up, she reached out her tiny hands and looked at me, her hands opened and closed.

I sighed and got walked back up to her, "Do you want me to stay?" I asked, Yenna giggled and clapped her hands, I smiled and laid down on the bed.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Yenna had been sleeping on Eli's room, she's been missing him for a while and it was obvious.

The night I slept beside Yenna, I felt something in my stomach, her tiny hands wrapped around my finger, the way she slept made my heart race.

It reminded me of a little boy, a baby boy.

My son.

Tears welled up my eyes as I remembered my baby boy, it had only been a few months after he had died, he's about a year younger than Yenna.

As I looked at the young girl in front of me, she reminded me of my dearest son, a child I hadn't planned but loved with all of my heart.

I quietly sobbed, careful not to wake up the sleeping little bean next to me.

After a while I fell asleep holding Yenna in my arms.

An hour or so later, I found myself half awake as someone entered the room, their footsteps were light and faint.

I was slightly worried not knowing who it was, but when I heard their quiet hum and I instantly knew who it was, it was Eli.

I felt him place a soft kiss on Yenna's forehead, and I felt him wipe my dried tears off from my cheek.

His touch was soft and gentle, it was like he was brushing his fingers against something so delicate.

I felt Eli lean closer, his breath tickled my ear as I laid down, "Thank you..." He whispered.

He then turned off the light and after a while, I felt him lay on the other side of the bed, I then fell asleep again and dreamt of nothing that night.

The next morning I woke uo feeling something wrapped around my waist, my eyes fluttered open and saw Eli sleeping in front of me.

His eyes were shut and he looked so peaceful.

My eyes glanced around and saw that Yenna was no longer in bed, I slightly panicked and I suppose it woke up Eli.

"What's wrong...?" He muttered, his voice was deep and raspy.

"Y-Yenna... She's not here..." I said, he he blinked a couple of times and shut his eyes again, "She's with Sally," he mumbled.

I let out a relieved sigh and looked at Eli, his hands were wrapped around me and it didn't seem like he had the intention of letting go, my face heat up as I processed what position we were in.

I tried to slowly wiggle out of his arms but he pulled me closer, his head leaned onto mt chest and he quietly whined.

"Stay... Just for a bit... I'm comfortable."

I paused for a moment and then sighed, my arms wrapped around his neck and my hands gently played with his hair.

I decided that staying in bed for a while isn't too bad, after all, Eli is a tired father trying to provide for his family.

I began to quietly hum and continued to play with his hair, he was tense but eventually fell at ease.

I felt Eli fall asleep, we were in each other's arms, I decided to suck it up and get some rest as well.

Although I did hear someone snap a few pictures from outside the door.

༝༚༝༚𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

#lookism #lookismoneshot #x reader #oneshot #fanfic #lookisim fanfic #eli jang #eli jang fanfic #eli jang oneshot #lookism eli jang

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

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hii! could i get a thatcher Davis x fem!reader (fluff + angst), where she's his new work partner (say he isn't presumed dead and went back to work) who wants to support him and comfort him while he opens up too her, they get closer and end up together within a few months as a couple and the WHOLE station is aware 😭

Awh yeah,,,,Gotta give this man love and support through all the Horrors(tm)

...............

"What? They're assigning her to me?"

"I really don't see why it's a problem, Davis..considering you forwarded her application. She's just as interested in investigating the Alternate threat as you are, so they figured you two could work together on-"

"But I thought I made it pretty clear that I wanted to work on future cases solo. Because the last time I had a partner-"

"Look, I understand losing Weaver was painful..but that was 17 years ago. And the higher-ups are getting worried about you taking on all these cases by yourself, especially with your extended leave and the close calls you've had with those things."

"...so they think I need a goddamn babysitter?"

"There's no need for hostilities, Davis."

"Sorry, captain. I mean no disrespect, but..do you all really trust me after what happened? I mean...I just don't wanna see one more person suffer for my mistakes, especially not some rookie.." Thatcher mumbled the last part under his breath, averting his gaze from his superior.

He heard them sigh, although their tone became more sympathetic as they spoke once more.

"You're all we got now, lieutenant, and I trust you're not gonna repeat the past. Think of this as your shot at redemption. This town's lost all hope in us, but I think [l/n] can help restore some of that morale with your guidance. All I ask is that you don't scare her into quitting before she finishes her first day, alright?"

Although silent, Thatcher nodded his head in understanding, and the police captain seemed satisfied with that answer. So they walked out to call you into the office, telling him to wait a few minutes.

The moment the door was closed, he slumped back into the chair, growing increasingly aggravated as he tapped his foot against the floor.

His hands were practically itching for a cigarette right now...or a drink.

Anything to distract him from the conflicting thoughts running through his mind.

It felt like Ruth had only been taken from him yesterday. He remembers how much he cried and forced himself to grieve alone, burdened with the knowledge that he couldn't tell the department the real story of that night--of how he basically left her to die.

Of course, a memorial service was held for her. But it didn't feel like a satisfactory goodbye.

It was far from that.

So for the higher-ups to suddenly decide he needed a "replacement" felt like a punch to the gut. It's like they didn't trust him anymore.

But he then recalled reviewing your application file on his computer, seeing that you indeed showed a lot of promise:

[F/n] [L/n]--a confident and kindhearted woman around his age who studied criminology in college, passed all of her training with flying colors, taught a self-defense class in her free time, and has a decade's worth of experience in security.

You had a good heart and described yourself as "headstrong" in your personality description.

"Sound familiar?"

Hearing the distorted voice, he snapped his head towards the shadow in the corner of the room, every muscle in his body suddenly tensing.

For a split second he thought he saw the whites of somebody's eyes...

His eyes-

"Lieutenant Davis, meet Officer [L/n]."

Thatcher blinked, coming back to reality as he realized the captain had returned, stepping aside to introduce you to him.

He awkwardly cleared his throat and stood up, shaking your hand in greeting.

You politely reciprocated the welcome, although you were initially surprised by his bleached hair and facial piercings. If you were at any other police station, you would've thought he was violating the dress code.

But then again, with the Alternates running amuck it was probably best for him to look highly distinguishable from the average person (and as far as you're aware, they aren't clever enough to perfectly mimic piercings or tattoos).

Nevertheless, you were quite eager to work with the well-known lieutenant who's been here the longest.

However as soon as the captain left, he dropped his smile and gave you a rather ominous word of advice:

"Never get too attached to anyone."

In another life, he would have been more enthusiastic about training a rookie officer. But while giving you a tour of the station and all its rooms, his nihilism kept taking over his speeches.

It wouldn't let him shake the awful feeling that he basically sealed your fate...that being you could possibly die to an Alternate under his watch.

Specifically the one that's been tormenting him all these years. He still hasn't told the MCPD about it. He just can't.

It'll probably try to come for you next.

So he tried to keep his emotions at a distance so it wouldn't hurt him in the long run.

Yet you didn't let his attitude discourage you from asking questions and being as optimistic as you could, given the circumstances. You figured he's just seen some really shitty stuff in his career, understanding that's why he acted so closed-off.

At least he sounded nice in the emails.

.......

In the weeks following you being hired at the MCPD and working alongside Thatcher, things...have gotten interesting.

But they started off fairly grim.

He was still struggling to get out of bed and drag himself to the police station, trying to hide the fact he barely cared about his job anymore. His superiors sometimes had to call him in with threats of suspension, and he'd arrive looking constantly exhausted.

It's always been this way...with the exception of you asking if he was alright or getting him coffee if he forgot to make some. And while he accepted the drinks, he'd brush off any and all concerns you had over his health.

You shouldn't have to worry over him so much.

During your shifts together, you'd accompany him to places where Alternates were recently sighed (or their victims) and ask witnesses questions, or at the station where you'd review files and video footage regarding the most recent incidents, taking notes of whatever you find that he might've missed--and vice versa.

He'd often look back on files regarding the "Heathcliff Case", staring at the details even though he's reviewed them at least a hundred times over. He never elaborated on why he was so transfixed on them.

Could he really tell you that's where he immediately failed up as a lieutenant?

Absolutely not.

The one thing he kept putting off for weeks was training you on taking 911 calls--specifically those regarding an Alternate home invasion. He'd make excuses to show you other things whilst passing the headset to a different operator or officer, leading you to being confused but going along with him anyways.

It's not that he didn't believe you could handle it...he's just afraid of what you'll think when he tells you about the protocol.

However his superiors eventually caught on with his excuses and assigned you both strictly to the call center for a day.

When the first one came through, he had no choice but to instruct you through the process.

In all honesty, you felt sick to your stomach when you lied to the poor victim who said an Alternate was in her home, reassuring her calmly that help will arrive soon....when it's not coming at all. Even worse was when she begged you to stay on the line until they "arrived", although a short while later she didn't respond when you asked for a description of the intruder.

Then the call disconnected.

You had no idea if she was dead or forced to hang up, but you were irritated by Thatcher's nonchalant attitude about it, especially as he remarked that she was already "gone".

You both got into a brief argument about the cruelty of this "protocol". Of course, you knew it wasn't his fault that it was established this way, but you wished he showed a little more empathy.

Fortunately, the tension was short-lived as you received another call.

Calming yourself, you sat back down in the chair and donned the headset, dreading yet another home intruder report that you won't be able to save this person from. But you took a couple deep breaths before answering it, with the lieutenant listening to you closely.

"This is Mandela County Police, how may I help you?" You put on your most sincere voice.

"H-Hi, um..I know this isn't a real emergency so it's gonna sound stupid. Bu, I-I just..I'm very stressed about school and I need to talk to somebody. D-Do you mind if I rant?"

"...oh! Of course, hun." Immediately you were thrown off-course when you heard a timid teenager's voice on the other end instead of a panicked adult. "I'm not exactly a licensed mental health counselor, but I promise to listen for a bit."

"What?" Thatcher furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "No, no, no. [L/n], tell this kid to get off the emergency line and call th-"

You ignored him and listened to the teen vent about their anxieties regarding the Alternate situation. They didn't understand why everybody else at school acted like this was the "new norm" when it shouldn't be, as their grades began to falter and they struggled to sleep at night.

At one point they began sobbing over the phone, afraid they won't have a future to look forward to, but you reassured them their fears were valid and that they're not alone with these feelings.

Although it felt like a white lie..you told them everything was going to be okay, and shortly after that they settled down.

Meanwhile Thatcher, who was at first livid over you blatantly disregarding his instructions, listened to your voice and realized how...sweet and nurturing you sounded towards this kid--suddenly no longer wanting to intervene and terminate the call himself.

Now that he thought about it...when's the last time an officer here ever answered a call that genuinely helped someone?

The fact he couldn't remember was telling.

"I think I handled that well."

Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked to see your smug grin as you switched off the headset, having finished the call. But when you saw his face, it disappeared and you sighed, knowing he was probably pissed off.

"Look, before you given me a write-up, I know that wasn't a "real" emergency, but I'm sure I saved that kid from spiraling into one."

"No, you have a point. I'm not gonna write you up." He reassured you. "I thought they were gonna say something about their math homework."

"Well, if their biggest concern is homework and not an Alternate..then I guess there's hope for the youth in this county." You chuckled. "So what's next, lieutenant?"

"....dunno. We're almost off the clock. You wanna....grab some coffee afterwards?"

You blinked. "Huh? Like..in the breakroom?"

"Nah I mean uh..at the gas station. I need to buy some food there anyway. Got nothing for dinner at home so.." He shrugged his shoulders; although part of him regretted mumbling that last bit considering the worried look you suddenly gave him. "...uh I mean-"

"Why don't I treat you to dinner instead?" You offered, which made him do a double-take. Though you quickly backtracked, your face flushed as you realized he could've taken that the wrong way. "I don't mean that a-as like...a date or...anything like that. There's a diner downtown you might've already been to but-"

"It's fine. I know the one you're talking about." He spoke up, smiling a little bit. "I actually haven't been there at all. But if you insist I'll...take the offer. Might as well get to know each other better."

While surprised he immediately accepted the invitation, you couldn't help smiling back before another call came through, and you focused on answering it. This time Thatcher didn't intervene and simply let you work while he occupied himself at another computer.

Suddenly both of you were very eager for the last hour of your shift to pass by.

...........

The "date" at the local diner went relatively well, with you and Thatcher chatting about recent cases and personal interests.

He didn't say a whole lot about himself, claiming his life was "boring" and asked more about yours instead. But it turns out you two shared similar tastes in movies and music, recommending stuff to each other and even exchanging personal numbers after dinner.

He mentioned a story of how he started playing heavy metal music in the station back when he was a rookie officer like you, getting his first write-up for it.

It made you laugh, and it was in that moment where he felt...the smallest of butterflies in his stomach.

At the time, however, he thought it was just anxiety. So he tried not to think too much of it as you both parted ways, seeing each other back at the station for your next shifts.

But ever since that night, you've been spending a lot more time together outside of work--to the point where, a month later, Thatcher felt comfortable enough to invite you over to his place.

Obviously he had to clean up so it looked more "presentable" to you...something he hasn't done nor cared about in years until meeting you.

He didn't know how or why, but you've considerably uplifted his spirits, pulling him out of this dark ditch he's been lying in for so long. He enjoyed your company and gave him reasons to come into the station on time.

Even his coworkers noticed and were impressed, with some teasing him about having a "crush" on you.

That reality did hit him, though...he did love you. You've been his motivation and inspiration. The light in his dark world.

Yet despite genuinely looking forward to seeing you, he was still putting up his usual front..as he was, in fact, feeling more stressed than ever before.

When he first met you, he warned you to not get attached to anybody--and here he was being a goddamn hypocrite.

Surprisingly enough, that Alternate hasn't shown its face in a long time. No longer did it invade his home, whispering nonsense and taunting threats in the dead of night; it led him to wonder if it grew bored of toying with him and decided to look elsewhere for a new victim, realizing he wasn't giving into MAD.

Could you have somehow driven it off without knowing?

He stopped believing in angels long ago, but part of him wants to believe you're one in disguise.

Perhaps..she knew he desperately needed one and sent you to help him when he lost all hope.

Yet you still didn't know anything about what happened that awful night, nor the mounting pressure Thatcher has put on himself after all these years. He just wasn't sure how to bring it up and explain everything without you calling him "crazy".

But it was killing him to keep all of this inside, though he felt like he had to..lest you thought of him as a weakly coward.

He's your superior. You should be looking up to him and counting on him for help, not the other way around. He even told himself he wasn't going to burden you with his past mistakes.

At the same time, you were the kindest and most nonjudgmental soul on the planet. He learned this firsthand that day you took that anxious teen's 911 call and assured them there was hope for their future.

That's where he first believed you were someone who could be trusted.

Even if you couldn't fix everything right away...you'd listen, and maybe that's the kind of person Thatcher needed in his life all along.

He knew that eventually you'll wanna ask him about that night, and he thinks he'll be ready to do so very soon.

Besides, he's going to run out of cassette tapes at some point.

.......

On the anniversary of Ruth's passing, both you and Thatcher had the day off.

You figured you'll sleep in and not disturb him, knowing he probably wanted to be alone today. But you did send one message to check up on him, saying you're always here to support him should he ever need it.

You knew him and Ruth used to be good friends back in the day, having accepted their promotions together and speaking publicly on live television. The MCPD still retained the footage, and you watched it on your work computer, smiling as they made their speeches to the community.

If only you were there to congratulate them both...

Your superiors remarked how he never truly did get over her death, acting like it's some huge "inconvenience" that he struggled to move on.

But even you knew that it's not that easy.

How could one simply "move on" after losing a close friend to one of those monsters? It's certainly difficult and painful, though you've wondered about the circumstances of her passing, always hearing everybody except Thatcher himself talk about it.

Was there a reason?

Did they twist the story?

You weren't sure, and you didn't think he'll be willing to give you any answers.

Especially not today.

Yet a short while later, you heard your laptop make a ping noise to indicate a new message and rushed to open it, reading his response:

[Thank you, [y/n]. If you're not too busy, could you come over in an hour? There's some things I wanted to talk about. I trust you enough]

You felt your heart skip a beat, wondering what he possibly could've wanted to discuss. But you were flattered that he trusted you, considering you didn't think he'd ever grow this close to you.

You simply replied "I'll be there" and hit send before getting ready, heading to his place an hour later.

Apparently he was expecting you, as before you could even knock on the door, he opened it up instead. And for a moment you stood there, taking in his appearance.

He looked like absolute hell, as though he just crawled out of bed, wearing a baggy band T-shirt with black pants. The dark circles around his eyes have gotten considerably worse, too, making him almost look skeletal-like.

Not to mention he reeked of smoke and cheap booze, both scents masked with cologne, but you didn't let it stop you from hugging him. "I got here as soon as I could." You said, smiling as he returned the hug. "How are you feeling?"

"...alright, I guess. Thanks. Hope I wasn't bothering you."

"You weren't, trust me." You shook your head, before letting each other go.

After heading inside, you noticed all the window blinds were drawn shut and the TV was droning in the background, showing some 90s flick. If not for the screen's light, then the entire living room for sure would've been pitch black.

You didn't see any reason to remind him of the laws concerning TVs and mirrors, being more worried about whatever he wanted to discuss with you.

Yet even as you both sat down on the couch, he found himself hesitating. He knew this was going to be a difficult conversation, but despite reaching out to you....he suddenly didn't feel ready anymore.

He started to regret ever sending that message in the first place.

You had to be the one to push him.

"So what did you wanna talk about? And don't tell me you were an Alternate this entire time.." You lightly joked, although when you noticed him staring vacantly at the TV, hands trembling as he turned the volume down, you realized your mistake. "..I'm sorry, Thatch. I shouldn't be kidding around on a day like-"

"It's okay."

"N-No, it's..it's fine. I'm not one of those things, I promise." He shook his head, trying to bite back the tears burning in his eyes as he turned to you. His heart was already hammering in his chest, throat feeling dry as he tried to keep his voice steady.

"It's just...fuck...where do I begin? A-And how can I say this without sounding selfish or crazy-?"

Blinking, Thatcher realized you had taken his shaking hand into your own, your thumb gently brushing over the back of it. And once again, he felt those familiar butterflies in his stomach..

He's never really felt this sort of kind touch..ever.

"Just take your time. I'm not going anywhere." You reassured him, feeling him squeeze his hand around yours tightly.

"..you sure you won't..tell anyone?" He asked, wishing he didn't already sound so pathetic. "Even if it were to change how you see me?"

"Whatever it is, it'll stay between us. I promise."

With that final confirmation...he told you everything.

He explained what happened to Ruth on this very night and the endless guilt of "abandoning" her that's haunted him since. He confessed to running away from the site out of fear when she vanished, without ever checking to see if she was even alive, never saying anything except she was MIA.

He also spoke of this weight he's been carrying all this time, still trying to be the "brave" and "heroic" lieutenant that everybody expects him to be and how he couldn't show any weakness, lest he let them all down...you included.

For years he was shamed for being a coward, when nobody knew that he and the entire department were just as terrified and helpless against those monsters as anyone. He mentioned not being able to sleep anymore...as the one who killed Ruth still remembers and taunted him every night over his failure.

It never made him forget, and some days he wished it was him who died instead.

Just so he didn't have to keep living with this burden.

He managed to speak calmly for the most part, uninterrupted by you. But he eventually broke down into tears when he tried explaining why he attempted to act cold towards you all those months ago.

Somewhere along the line, he spilled his true feelings of how he loved you and wanted to protect you but was far too scared of repeating his past mistakes, fearing that you'll end up just like-

However, you brought him into your arms before he could finish that statement, uttering something simple yet comforting that he needed to hear after all this time:

"It wasn't your fault."

And he immediately crumbled in your embrace, defeated as he quietly sobbed into your shoulder. He was unable to stop himself from clinging to you like some helpless child, but he didn't care anymore.

This felt a hundred times more cathartic than ranting on a cassette tape and writing letters to a dead person.

For some time, you held him without any judgement, rubbing his back as his emotions kept spilling forth. You wish you could kill the bastard that ruined his entire life...though this was all you could offer in the present.

And it was more than enough.

But as you comforted him, it finally sank in that this guy confessed to you, and you couldn't help but press a gentle kiss to his head, affirming that you reciprocated his feelings.

It seems he opened up to you in more ways than one.

"I love you too, Thatch." You muttered after he fell silent, to which he lifted his head up and looked at you with surprise.

"R-Really? You mean that?" He wiped at his watery eyes, slowly pulling out of the hug.

"Of course, why would I lie?"

"Well..uh...y-you just saw your "superior" have a freak out." Sniffling lightly, he looked down at his lap, the embarrassment catching up to him. "This is who I really am, [y/n]...just a loser crying like a baby over shit that happened nearly 20 years ago-"

"Hey. You're not a loser." You frowned a bit, taking both of his hands into yours. "Whether it's 20 years or 20 minutes..grief still hurts like a bitch, especially if you never confided in anybody until now. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Thatcher nodded, his head feeling considerably clearer for the first time in ages. He was just relieved you didn't shun him. "Thanks for that...I've just..i-it's been hell, and...."

However, he trailed off as you leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, both of you becoming equally flustered at what you just did on impulse.

It felt like you were both back in highschool, being two lovesick idiot teenagers who just shared their first kiss--except one was a lieutenant and the other a rookie cop.

He stared at you for some time, before smiling a bit. "How long have you been wanting to do that?"

"....a while." You admitted. "But..are you sure this is alright? Considering we work together, it might be...um-"

"What they don't know won't hurt 'em. So...now that everything's out there, you wanna go on an official "date" to that diner later?"

"I thought you'd never ask! But only if you're okay enough to. I don't want you to feel like I'm dragging you out of-"

"You're not. I need to get my ass up anyways."

---Two Weeks Later--

"Is it true that you're going out with the lieutenant??"

"Wha...who said that??" Stopping at one of the call operators' desks, you noticed her smug grin and stared back at her suspiciously. "Who else knows?"

"Uh, literally everybody here has known since last week. I haven't seen that guy smile in years until you came along. So whatever you did to drag him out of his shell...good job." She chuckled. "You must feel pretty lucky."

"Ah.." Flustered that you got so defensive so quickly over a known fact--that you and Thatcher were officially a couple--you just shook your head, flashing a tiny smile at her. "Thanks, but honestly he keeps telling me that he's the lucky one."

"That's fair. Before your break, can you run this file by him? It's for the case he's on."

"Sure." You took the folder and headed off to find your boyfriend at his desk, filing a report.

Only when you approached did he look away from the screen, a smile on his face. "Hey, you."

"Hey, you." You quickly pecked him on the lips, setting the folder down onto the table. He grumbled something about "PDA" and "staying professional", but you just rolled your eyes at his complaints. You can tell he wished the kiss was longer.

"I'm still your superior, y'know."

"Understood, "boss"..so what's the incident this time?" Curious, you peered over at his computer screen.

"A recent sighting of a supposed "child Alternate" that murdered the real kid's dad in the middle of the night," he explained, sipping his coffee. "It spared the actual person it mimicked, though..which is kinda weird, but I don't feel sorry for the bastard considering his criminal record. He lied in court just to get custody of a kid he didn't even give a shit about."

"Huh, interesting.." You hummed. "Maybe some Alternates can feel a sense of injustice around them? Or empathy?"

"I doubt it. They just mimic what they see and hear." He shrugged. "Once I finish this up I'll join you on break, okay?"

"Okaaay." You sighed dramatically, ruffling his hair up a little. "Don't work too hard, dear."

All you got was a small nod in return as Thatcher went back to typing, and you headed to the breakroom. But you could easily tell he was ready to keel over at the endearing nickname you've given him. That coffee mug couldn't hide the light blush that dusted his face no matter how hard he tried.

He's well aware of the risk he took by opening up to you, especially on the day where he felt he was at his lowest--something he never wanted anybody to see.

But he's glad he took that chance. Now that he knew you'd have his back, loving him and supporting him unconditionally, he was going to try his hardest to protect you.

And if that Alternate decided to come back?

He'll make sure it doesn't get to even breathe near you.

Not on his watch.

#clanask #anonymous #mandela catalogue x reader #tmc x reader #thatcher davis #thatcher davis x reader #female reader #hurt/comfort #tw suicide mention

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judesmoonbeauty · 4 months ago

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Estella Wist ཐིཋྀ

Introducing my second OC: Estella Wist.

Art: Neka site

Height: 5’5 Birthdate: 4/9 Nickname: Este Hair Color: Pastel misty purple Eye Color: Glassy Gray Markings: She has a beauty in between the left corner of her eye and nose. Weapon of choice: Baseball bat, Anything sharp. Likes: Social functions, cozy nights at home and black nail polish. Dislikes: Being in confined spaces.

Ships with: Ellis Twilight Ship name: Elles (Pronounced like: L’s)

Curse: The Butterfly taken by the mythology of Psyche and other folktales.

Ability: When people die, she can see their souls in the form of butterflies, and the condition of the butterflies (souls). She can then extract everything that makes up their souls, such as thoughts, feelings, memories etc. When she extracts from them(essentially information gathers), she’s feeding her own soul (butterfly), much like a butterfly sucking on nectar.

Fated End: Her own soul (her butterfly), will become warped and blackened from her soul-feeding on the departed, ultimately facing death.

Personality: She is an ambivert, but leans closer to the extroverted side. Very fun, outgoing, interested in people, kind and crazy.

Crown Relationships:

Ellis: She adores Ellis. She loves him very dearly. Since Ellis sometimes gets anxious about his past and certain memories he can't seem to recall very well, she does her best to soothe him. He was pretty taken aback by how bluntly asked him to *ahem* be her lover, but he agrees anyway. Este loves accompanying Ellis on his missions because.......she gets to read souls........ a lot.

Jude: He views her like an annoying, loud pest sister. He thinks she's almost as crazy as Ellis, and he hates the fact that she calls him Judy. He finds her ability quite handy for intel gathering, and he's disturbed that she does everything in her power to help Ellis make Jude happy so she can eventually read his soul and see it's form. Still, he'll protect her if he needs to do so. After all, Jude thinks Ellis & Este suit each other.

Isla: Isla is Este's first true friend, and even though Isla tries to avoid Este as much as possible at first, circumstances make that impossible. Este often tries to get Isla involved with school activites, as Este is the leader of the fundraising club. No matter how odd Este is, Isla accepts her and treats her with respect and kindness. Still, she tries to curb Este's desire to help Ellis make Jude happy.....

Roger: She gets on quite well with Roger the way Isla does, but for different reasons. While she doesn't want to suffer her fate, she now has Ellis who promises to end her before that happens, so she doesn't really care if her curse is broken or not. Essentially, she likes Roger because he has a soft spot for Ellis, and anyone who likes Ellis is okay in her book.

Harrison: She doesn't engage with Harry too often, not that she doesn't like him, but because he can detects when she lies. Not that she is a liar in general, but she doesn't like confessing the truth about how she really feels sometimes. While Este is outgoing, her mind is fragile like a butterfly wing. Being read so easily isn't a fun past time for a soul-reader.

Liam: Este's second real friend. When these two social butterflies meet, they quickly become BFFS. Liam also picks up on when Este is not feeling like herself as he does with Isla, and he listens to her. The two have a lot fun shopping together as well, and like trying out cosmetics together.

Victor: She loves Victor as the leader of Crown (especially since he encourages her evil), and adores his cooking. Sometimes though, she has issues with how secretive he can be, but ultimately, he loves his Crown boys and he adores Ellis, so anyone who loves Ellis is again - okay in her book.

Alfons & Elbert: She thinks Elbert needs to eat more. Like a lot more. She is often trying out new recipes and bringing them to him to eat, while Alfons tries to tell her it's a waste of her time since. While she doesn't mind Alfons on the whole, she doesn't care for his nonchalant attitude sometimes. They bicker quite a bit. And Elbert usually has to tell them to quiet down.

William: She thinks that William is someone to be looked up to since he often wants others to experience freedom. Este and William will paint each other's nails and William will often give her advice when she feels like she is being confined by her thoughts.

Vogel Relationships: (TBD)

Well, well, this turned out to be way more than what I thought it would be, but I've been cooking Estella for a while. I just haven't had anytime to actually pan out the details of her curse or who she is. I am very excited for her character as she is instrumental in Isla's lore. Now, I just need to spruce up my precious Isla.

#OC: Estella Wist #Estella Wist x Ellis Twilight #Ellis x Este #OC: Este #OC: Estella #OC Posting #ikevil oc #Ikevil Estella #c's corner

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swabsandcream · 2 years ago

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A New Start [Part 2]

Detective Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

A/N: I just want to say I appreciate all the positive feedback for the first part. This is my first time writing a fanfic, so I hope you guys like this part as much as the last.

Summary: As Y/N and Dick begin to build a connection between one another, a new problem comes up that sets them at odds.

Warnings: Profanity, mentions of violence

After Y/N and Dick’s little heart to heart moment, they proceeded to go to work on the ongoing robbery investigation. As she sat at her desk and scanned through the evidence files Dick had given her, she allowed her mind wonder off to a more interesting topic.

Y/N felt at ease now that she had managed to get on her partner’s good side, but she also began to have other feelings towards him. She could tell from that small interaction that he has seen and been through a lot of bad stuff, just like her. On one side, he has this kind of edge that tells you he’s not the kind of person you want to mess with. On the other side, he is compassionate and caring for those who he feels a connection with.

Y/N allowed herself to remain zoned out as she continued to think about Dick. What is he like outside of work? What does he enjoy doing in his spare time? Does he have a girlfriend? These intrusive thoughts clouded her mind to the point where she didn’t notice her partner was out of his chair and packing his things to leave. Dick, putting his coat on and throwing his bag over his shoulder, let out a deep sigh and turned to look over at Y/N.

“Well Y/N, it was nice to meet and talk to you, I’m heading out for the night. See you first thing in the morning alright?” He waited until she rose her head up to give her a warm smile.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” She smiled back and watched as he started towards the door.

Y/N watched as Dick walked out the front doors, feeling slightly ashamed by the impact he seemed to have on her although they just met. Despite her feelings, she decided that she wouldn’t try to act on them. After losing her old partner, she felt that it would be best to avoid getting too close to her new partner. She couldn’t handle losing another partner, let alone one that she cared deeply about.

“Working late tonight new girl?” A woman’s voice caused Y/N to turn around and meet the eyes of an officer, who appeared to be on her way out as well.

“Oh no. I’m just preparing for tomorrow, hopefully we’ll be able to find a lead in the case.” Y/N waved to the officer, receiving a thumbs up in response as the woman continued walking.

Y/N had left shortly after, returning to her mediocre apartment in a semi-decent neighborhood not too far away from the station. She did her usual nightly routine and called it a night, prepared for the busy day tomorrow.

It was now morning time and Y/N was standing in front of her long mirror giving herself a once over. She made a few changes to her usual plain black and white wardrobe, adding a bit more color. She convinced herself that it was only part of her journey to turn a new leaf. Satisfied with her new look, she grabbed her keys and the personal items she wanted to decorate her new desk with and headed out to work. Arriving to the police department a few minutes later, Y/N entered the building with a gleeful smile on her face like yesterday. Her smile dropped as soon as she saw what appeared to be an empty precinct. Confused and concerned, she went over to her desk to set her things down then heard the captain’s voice calling out for her.

“Detective Y/L/N! We’re all in the meeting room waiting for you.” She sped to the meeting room, where she could see everyone had already taken a seat, and Captain Nelson was standing behind the podium in front of everyone. In the very front, sat a tired-looking Dick with a cup of hot coffee in his hand. Y/N took the empty seat next to him, still confused about the unplanned meeting.

"Morning partner." Dick says softly as he sips his coffee, taking notice to his partner’s appearance being much more vibrant than the day before.

"Good morning, Dick. What's all this about anyway?"

"No clue.” Dick kept his eyes on Y/N as she looked around the room, still trying to make sense of what was happening. Their attention was quickly grabbed by the captain, who was ready to start the meeting.

"Now that everyone's here, I'd like to inform you all about a potentially new problem we'll have to face in the near future." Everyone watched the captain as he turned on the monitors behind him. On the screen were two surveillance shots of a man dressed in a red and green kevlar suit with a black mask on his face. He appeared to be in the middle of fighting a group of men.

"We got a call last night about some caped crusader single handedly fighting six men all by himself. By the time our people got there, they found all six men bloody and badly beaten. The vigilante was nowhere to be found."

Y/N couldn't believe her eyes. She had only heard stories about him, but never thought she would end up in the same city as him.

"Holy shit...is that Robin?" Y/N said as stood up to get a better view of the monitor, still in disbelief. Dick quickly turned to glare at her, surprised she was able to identify the person in the images so fast.

He chose to remain silent and observe the reactions of his colleagues. They were all expressing a disapproving attitude, some of them even cracked jokes about the suit. All except for Y/N, who seemed to be thrilled by the revelation, almost like she was a fan. Dick tuned out everyone around him and focused only on Y/N, who only spoke highly of Robin.

“You guys can say what you want but that guy is badass. To take on six guys all by himself is unreal! I wonder if Batman is here too or if he came by himself.”

"Don't know, and don't care. I refuse to let these mask wearing freaks come into my city and do whatever the hell they want. They think they can do our jobs better than us, but what happened last night wasn't justice. I want to know why he targeted them specifically.” Captain Nelson was clearly a part of the disapproving crowd, cutting off the monitor and stepping from behind the podium to assign the new task.

“Detectives Kurt and Rodriguez, I’m assigning you both to the vigilante case. The rest of you, continue with the robbery investigation and report to me as soon as you find a lead. Thank you, dismissed.” Y/N and Dick left out of the meeting room together, both watching Kurt and Rodriguez complain about the new assignment on the way back to their desks.

“You seeing these guys? Just ungrateful. I would kill to take on a case like that.” Y/N turned to Dick, quietly walking alongside her. He just flashed a smile and continued walking. She noticed that he hadn’t really said anything during the entire meeting, but she just assumed that he was indifferent to the vigilante stuff.

They both went back to their desks and started working. Y/N couldn’t take her mind off of Robin and Dick couldn’t take his mind off of Y/N. He wondered how she would react if she knew that he was the man underneath the mask. Y/N on the other hand wondered about the motive Robin had to go after those men like that. They clearly weren’t good guys, but there are bad guys all over the city. Why them? Why now? The more she thought about it, the more she became invested in the case itself.

Y/N took a quick look around to see if anyone was close enough to see what she was doing. Once the coast was clear, she used her computer to access the arrest records of the men who were detained after the Robin situation. All five of the men’s mugshots were displayed on her monitor and she could see the damage Robin had done to these guys, but there was one missing. She knew that his injuries must have been so severe that he had to be hospitalized.

“What if this guy was the target and the rest of them were just collateral damage?” She muttered to herself, slowly piecing the mystery together. Her thoughts were interrupted by Dick slamming his notebook on the desk in front of her. Before she had a chance to react, Dick was already hovering over her, expressing his newfound enthusiasm.

“I got it Y/N. This is our lead right here I just need you to-” Dick stopped as soon as he laid eyes on Y/N’s monitor. She was looking into the guys he beat to a pulp last night. Panic started to set in as he recalled her being listed as a proficient level detective in her files. He felt like there was a good chance she could uncover his secret, so he had to do whatever it takes to keep her from being successful.

“Y/N, we need to focus on the case that was assigned to us. No going off on our own, remember?”

“I know and I’m sorry, but I just-”

“Don’t let your curiosity get the best of you. If I catch you looking into the Robin stuff any further, I’ll have to report you to Nelson. Trust me, pissing off the captain is the last thing you want to do.” Dick’s tone came off much sterner than he wanted it to, but he needed her to get off the Robin thing as soon as possible. Part of him felt guilty as he watched her remove the photos of the men from her screen, her silence and sullen expression said more than enough.

“I’m going to take our lead to the captain and see what he says. If it’s good enough, I could get the green light to hold a stakeout.” Y/N sat in silence, staring at Dick while he briefly explained how he got some intel from someone he knows about a location where the stolen money is being stored.

She wasn’t giving him any sign of affirmation, making it clear that she wasn’t happy with him. Dick took the hint and walked off to the captain’s office. She felt like he was overreacting about her looking into the Robin case, but he was right about her not being focused on the task at hand. After sitting and thinking to herself for a few minutes, she made the conscious decision to give her full attention to the robbery case. But first, she wanted to know the name of the sixth man involved in the case. Y/N put her eyes on Kurt and Rodriguez, who were both sitting at their desks, presumably discussing the case. She figured all she had to do was go ask them for the guy’s name, but as soon as she got up to approach them Dick was already on his way back. She sat back down in her chair and acted natural as Dick came to stand on her side of the desk, towering over her again.

"Nelson gave us the green light for the stakeout. We should exchange numbers since we’ll be doing this together, in case anything happens.” Dick pulled his phone from his back pocket, unlocking and holding it out to her. Y/N obliged, saving her number into his phone. She looked back up at him to give him his phone back and watched as he parted his lips to speak.

“Also, I want to apologize about the threat I made earlier. I just really want to get through this case Y/N, I’ve been busting my ass these past few weeks trying to catch these guys.”

“Dick, I totally understand. I’m sorry too, and the bird boy is off limits from now on, I promise.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.” Dick and Y/N shared a laugh before falling into a moment of silence. The prolonged eye contact between the two spoke volumes to one another. There was something there that neither one of them wanted to acknowledge at the time, especially since they were about to spend a few hours alone together the very next day. Y/N turned away first, trying to find something to do in effort to ease the tension.

“Okay, I’m just gonna-”

“Yeah, me too.” Dick hastily turns away and moves back over to his desk, plopping down into his chair and raising his hands to hold the back of his head. He stared blankly at his computer screen, trying desperately not to shift his eyes over to his partner.

As much as he wanted to fight his growing attraction for Y/N, he couldn’t. After a failed relationship with Dawn, he promised himself that he wouldn’t get involved with another woman for a while, that is, until Y/N showed up. She just had to be his type, confident, strong-willed, and intelligent. Her unknowingly being fascinated with him and his ‘extracurricular activities’ only made his feelings stronger, along with the fear of her finding out and possibly ruining his acquaintance with her.

On the other side of the desk, Y/N quietly tended to the decorations she brought from home, trying to keep her mind and eyes off the alluring man sitting a couple feet away from her. It wasn’t long before her attention was claimed by said man, who made her look at her left at a fellow detective, who had his right hand in the back of his pants, scratching aggressively. Dick and Y/N snickered at the man, finding his actions both humorous and disgusting. This provoked jokes and playful banter between the two as a result, which lasted until it was time to say goodbye. Y/N was the last to leave again, or she thought she was as she made her way to the door and caught Rodriguez still at his desk. With no hesitation, she redirected herself over to him to ask the million-dollar question. She had a hard time convincing him that her questions were just out of curiosity, but after a few words of reassurance, he finally gave her the answer. Tyler Hackett.

Tag: @igotanidea

#richard dick grayson #richard grayson #richardgrayson #dick grayson #dickgrasyon #dctitans #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fanfiction #richard grayson fanfiction #titans #detective grayson #brenton thwaites #brentonthwaites

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justimajin · 1 year ago

Text

The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 12

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ 6.4k / Office AU (lowkey E2L vibes)

↠ Summary: The workplace isn’t for everyone. It can be mundane and repetitive, with some describing it like a nuisance and others as a blessing. You’re the kind that leans more towards the latter and while it does make you an ideal candidate for many things, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind that is the new employee.

↠ Warnings: borderline fake dating au, so much bickering, a whole lot of confusion and chaos

↠ A/N: We've reached the half point for the series! From here on, things are going to move forward very fast.

↠ Next Update: Tuesday, September 19 (series masterpost here)

“Would you like some bags for your groceries?”

“Huh?” You whirl around to see the cashier has already scanned all of your belongings, gazing at you with expectant eyes. You immediately nod with a small smile, and she turns, taking out a handful of plastic bags before assisting you with bagging the items.

After wishing you a nice day, you collect the bags with one hand and check the time on your phone with the other, showcasing that it was around 7pm.

Luckily with the looming threat of paying your rent resolved, things had finally started shifting to the brighter side for you. Your work life had been especially better, with Soyou noticing your efforts more than she ever did after you took on the role of training Seokjin. As a result, you felt like your spirits had been brought up and decided to head out for some groceries straight after work this Friday evening.

You walk out of the store with a giant grin, heading over to the bus stop to get home. However, something catches your eye.

There’s a young woman leaning down, a small bump on her stomach that she holds as she tries to pick up her fallen bags. Your eyes widen and you put your phone away, walking over in an instant.

Bending down, you retrieve the bags and hand them over to her.

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” She latches onto your arm in pure relief, “I was okay in the store, but then the bags just slipped out of my hands and–“

Her breath hitches upon looking up. Your brows contort, eyes concentrating on her features.

She blurts out a name in recognition.

“Y/N?”

You blink, taken aback. “Do we know each other?”

“Y/N, right? Y/N L/N.” She points out, “You majored in business, back at East College?”

Your eyes are as wide as ever, recognition hitting you like a truck.

“Wait, Miyeon?” You whisper in astonishment, only to watch her eyes brighten. She propels herself forward, tackling you into a hug.

“Oh my god, it is you, Y/N!” Although you’re still suspended in shock, you raise your arms to hug her back, “It’s been so long! How have you been?!”

“I’ve been alright.” You chuckle underneath your breath. “I never thought I would run into you here.”

Miyeon lets go of you with a giggle and you warmly smile.

All the memories were coming back piece by piece. You had met her back in your college days, having gone quickly from mere acquaintances to friends. However, as the handles of time progressed and you had gotten accepted into your internship, you had soon departed from college without another look back.

But from the warm glow she emits, you can tell things haven’t changed much. “Were you planning to take the bus?” You wonder, still gripping onto her bags.

“Oh, no! I actually live nearby and wanted to go on a walk, but then I saw they had peaches on sale and couldn’t resist.” She lightly laughs and you grin.

“Which direction do you live in?” You ponder, “I can walk you back if you’d like.”

Her eyes brighten. “Of course, I’d love to catch up!” She points towards the pathway, “I live a couple of houses down from here.”

You grin. “Well then, lead the way.”

***

Trailing behind Miyeon, there’s two sets of bags within your hands – both your own and hers. Miyeon had continuously insisted that you’d let her hold something, but you simply waved it off and told her it was alright. You were keen on catching up with her, surprised to find out an interesting tidbit she reveals.

“You got married?” You ask, and she furiously nods, flashing the ring on her third finger.

“It was around roughly three years ago,” Her hands come around to rest on her belly, “And we’re expecting our first child in four months.”

“I’m so happy for you, Miyeon...” From her smile to the brightness in her eyes, you can tell she’s overfilled with joy. “Your husband is lucky to have you.”

“Oh, please.” She waves off the compliment, fondly smiling. “He’s great and all, but sometimes his confidence and self-praises makes him so full of himself, you know?”

A laugh escapes her, “–but at times I feel like I’ve gotten lucky with him. He’s just so sweet and kind, Y/N.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “What about you? How have you been?”

“Oh, I got accepted into an internship right out of college and stayed there for a while.” Your irises shift, a lopsided smile on your lips. “Unfortunately right after, my parents got into an accident and passed away.”

Her eyes enlarge. “I-I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Your smile strains. “It was really difficult the first couple of months, but then I had bills and a younger sister to look after. Thankfully, I soon got my current job and I’ve been working there ever since.”

Now that you’re stating it out loud, it’s a little strange to hear how different your route was from Miyeon out of college. Both of you were the same age, and graduated around the same time, but instead of having life milestones like getting married or having a family on your checklist, you were occupied with simply surviving and ensuring that Yuna could be happy to your best ability.

You’re incredibly happy for her, but in a way, it feels like you’ve missed out.

“I think it’s incredible you were able to stay strong during such hard times.” Your eyes snap over to her somber expression. “Where are you working now?”

“Oh, I–“

The words die in your throat.

Your line-of-sight strays away, pupils rounding as they land on the humongous property in front of you.

The ‘house’ Miyeon indicated is actually an expansive mansion – with a handful of luxurious cars parked in the lengthened driveway, a tended to garden outside and a sidewalk littered with precious stones.

It has you gaping like a fish and Miyeon peers over at you. “Y/N?”

“Huh?” You snap out of your awe-filled daze, glancing at Miyeon who doesn’t even seem fazed from the place.

You point towards it with a shaky finger. “T-This is where you live?”

She warmly smiles, “Yeah, it is! Nice, isn’t it?”

Nice? More like it’s the most luxurious place you’ve ever seen and can afford to be near.

Before you can say anything else, Miyeon gestures to the bags in your hands. “Why don’t we head inside?”

You gulp, slowly nodding and following Miyeon meekly into the house.

The moment you step in, you’re struck with even more awe.

The ceiling is up high, a gorgeous silver chandelier hanging down from the spiralling staircase below it. From the bottom, you can see the multiple rooms the wooden doors lead into and the floor is spotless, appearing like it was made out of the finest of marble.

“Come on.” Miyeon gestures, and you trail behind her like a helpless puppy.

Surprisingly enough, the kitchen seems to be the only place that looks the most normal. It’s reminiscent of one you would have in your own home – a few countertops with a stove and a fridge tucked away in the corner. Miyeon heads straight for it, taking the bag filled with peaches and placing them inside.

She peeks out from the fridge as you cautiously slip into a chair next to the counter. “Oh, you never told me where you’ve been working!”

Realizing it’s when you stumbled on your words, you clear your throat and focus back in.

“I work at Kim Electronics.”

Miyeon pauses, closing the fridge door completely and staring at you with wide eyes.

A small smile tugs at her mouth as she repeats your words. “You…work at Kim Electronics?”

You hum, “You must have heard about it.”

Miyeon sheepishly chuckles, like she knew something you didn’t. “The same Kim Electronics who didn’t do so well on their last product and their CEO is planning to retire?”

“Uh, yeah…” You quirk your head to the side, knowing that only someone who kept on track with the company would only know those facts. “Do you work there?”

She shakes her head with a grin, letting you in on a certain tidbit that has the air leaving from your lungs, “No, but my husband is the son of the CEO.”

“Y-Your husband…?”

“Yep.” She giggles, reaching out to clasp onto your hands. “Aw, this is wonderful Y/N! I can’t believe you’re working at the company now.”

“Y-Yeah…i-it’s great…” You stutter out.

Your mind is complete chaos, wracking around for any mention of your dear intern telling you he was married or was expecting a child. But then it occurs to you that aside from knowing who Seokjin’s father was, there was nothing surrounding his personal life that ever came into topic.

Miyeon grins at you and although you reciprocate her actions, but there’s only more and more questions blooming from you at the discovery.

You end up spending a couple of hours at Miyeon’s house, still having your mind spin around the revelation. However, when the sky turns dark outside and you realize how much time has passed, you decide it’s time that you head on home.

But the moment the door opens, there’s bullets of heavy rain splashing down.

“Great…” You mumble, avertedly glancing around. Miyeon appears behind, wide eyes taking in the scenery.

“That doesn’t look so good…” She whispers, turning to you. “Will you be okay?”

“It’s fine, a little rain won’t hurt anyone.” You take a step out, holding an umbrella within your hand. The rain hits against it, splattering off.

“See? It’s not so bad.” You take a step out, glancing at Miyeon.

Thunder roars, electricity sparking through the clouds as the wind picks up.

You immediately jolt, shoulders hitching up.

Miyeon reaches out, tugging you back in with concern deep in her eyes. “Why don’t you just stay for the night? You don’t have work tomorrow, right?”

She was right – it was supposed to be your day off tomorrow and you were keen on taking some of the time to spend with Yuna, who you haven’t been able to see much of lately thanks to work.

Speaking of which, she’s the one factor that shifts your reasoning. “My sister is by herself at home…”

Miyeon’s eyes round. “Oh.”

Your pupils linger again outside. Truthfully, the weather was absolutely awful outside and there was no way you could go back in this weather to catch a bus.

With a sigh, you turn to her. “Let me give her a call and see.”

Miyeon nods and heads back into the kitchen as you plant the phone against your cheek. Yuna picks up on the second ring and after you tell her about the situation, the first thing on your mind are her thoughts.

“It’s really bad out there.” You mention, “Would you be okay if I came back in the morning?”

“I think I’ll be fine.” Yuna replies.

You hum, glancing at another flash of lightning strikes through the sky. “Remember what I always tell you–“

“Keep the door locked and have dinner on time.” Yuna states. “I know already Y/N, don’t worry.”

You let out a relieved exhale with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Turning the phone off, you swivel around to see Miyeon curiously darting her eyes over.

You shrug, “Looks like I’m staying for the night.”

***

The heavy weather dwindles into the night and at one point the thunder pulls a flinch out of you. After having dinner together, Miyeon guides you towards one of the guest bedrooms that you gratefully take, but your eyes are substantially wider at seeing the room.

It’s about twice the size of the one you have at home, paired with wide windows whose length just showcase the ill weather outside. The bed looks like it can accommodate at least three people and is lined with fur pillows and draped with satin dark teal sheets.

She mentions that she can get someone to drop you off in the morning and after giving you some clothes for the night, you easily slip into bed and stare at the ceiling. Everything from the house down to the bedrooms feels incredibly foreign for you, like you weren’t meant to be here in the first place.

Thankfully those thoughts don’t dwell through the later parts of the night and within an hour, you find the stress slipping away and yourself relaxing.

Sunlight pours through the now clear clouds, seeping into the windows and reflecting onto the green sheets you’re wrapped up in. You stir when its rays meet your eyes, blinking a little confused only to see the shifted weather outside.

Sitting up, the sheets pool around you as you stretch your arms out. You slip out of the bed, finding a pair of slippers nearby. You suppose you shouldn’t idle around for long in the house, knowing that letting you stay over was enough generosity from Miyeon’s side.

You let out a low yawn, turning around to head towards the door. But that’s when you freeze mid-way, breath hitching and eyes increasing in size.

There’s a chair placed in the far corner of the room, right next to the door, and on that chair sits Seokjin.

Well, kind of. His head is leaned down and his eyes are screwed shut, making you realize that he must be asleep. But what you can’t understand is a) what on earth is he even doing in this room in the first place and b) how did he manage to just fall asleep on a chair?!

Shaking your head, you cautiously shift closer until you’re standing directly in front of him. Although his self-praises have a tendency of getting annoying eventually, your current view almost makes you understand why he does it so often. His features are both soft and yet sharp, making you almost chuckle that he really is handso–

“Take a picture, it might last longer.”

You jolt back, planting a hand against your heart as his eyes flutter open. There’s a hint of amusement in them, but it’s soon coupled with a glare being sent in your direction.

He smiles in a way that’s not at all sweet. “Mind telling me what you’re doing sleeping in my house?”

You wince at his question. “Right, you live here….”

Seokjin is still staring at you, waiting for some kind of explanation. “Well, I’m good friends with Miyeon and last night the weather was terrible, so she offered I’d stay the night and gave me the guest bedroom.”

You’re expecting him either not to believe you, or at least be suspicious of the situation, but surprisingly enough, his eyes soften.

“You’re the friend Miyeon was talking about?”

You nod, “We’ve known each other ever since college.”

He hums. “I didn’t realize you lived here until it was too late, and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity of catching up with her.” A low sarcastic chuckle leaves you. “Though, it was certainly interesting finding out she’s your wife now.”

Seokjin nearly chokes on air and you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you okay?”

“My what now?!” He nearly screams, his eyes wider than ever.

“Your wife!” You repeat, “You guys are married, right?”

“No!” He lets out an exasperated exhale, “You seriously thought I have a wife?!”

“I also thought the kid in her stomach was yours too.” You chime in.

“Y/N!” He plants his hands against his face and paces around much to your confusion.

He swivels around, “I have an older brother!”

You frown at that, the lightbulb in your head finally starting to flicker.

“You have a brother….” You whisper in realization, only for Seokjin to nod exaggeratedly, “How was I supposed to know that?! She literally said she was married to CEO Namjung’s son!”

“The other son!! I’m not married to someone!” He pokes your shoulder, emphasizing his words, “I am single. SINGLE.”

You push his hand off, “Yeah, yeah, I can see why now.”

He scoffs in offense and you shake your head, connecting all the dots.

“It was all just a misunderstanding….” You mutter thoughtfully, “I get that now. She’s not your wife.”

“Thank you.” Seokjin softly replies, “Now that confusion has been cleared up, didn’t you need a ride home?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh yeah, I would really appreciate that.”

“Okay, get changed and I’ll grab my keys.” He walks closer to the door and your eyes widen, realizing that aside from the borrowed pj’s, you don’t have anything to brush your teeth or comb your hair with.

“Wait, Seokjin–“ He turns around in time, but it’s too late when your foot snags against the thick carpet, sending you spiraling downwards.

Seokjin luckily reacts in time, catching you before you go face first onto the ground. But that’s when the door creaks open, a familiar face emerging.

“Hey Y/N! Are you awake ye– oh.”

Miyeon falters at the door, her wide eyes landing straight on you and Seokjin.

You immediately scamper away from him, raising your hands in defense.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

Seokjin pitches in, “She’s right! There’s no way she would have landed someone as handsome as me.”

You whip your head around. “Excuse me?!”

“Oh come on, you know it’s true.”

“Seokjin!”

“You two know each other…?” Miyeon crosses her arms, eyes still darting between you two.

“We worked together at the company.” Seokjin mentions. “She’s an employee I shadowed.”

Miyeon hums. “Right, we’re just coworkers. Nothing else.”

Seokjin nods in approval and you meet his gaze with a reassured smile. Miyeon is still standing in between the two of you, watching your interaction with suspicion glimmering in her eyes.

She straightens up. “I think I know what’s going on here.”

Your brows raise and in her most accusing tone ever, she says– “You two are in a secret relationship, aren’t you?!”

You stare at Miyeon in absolute horror and Seokjin chokes on air for the second time of the day.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to hide it.” Miyeon remarks. “All this time, I was wondering how you still managed to stay single, Y/N!” She adds with a giggle. “I can’t believe you managed to snag my brother-in-law!”

“Snag him?!” You point to the space between you and Seokjin. “There’s been a misunderstanding, we’re not–

But before you can spew out the undeniable truth, there’s an arm swinging around your shoulders.

“Ah, what can you do, Miyeon?” Seokjin dramatically announces, shaking his head with a sigh. “You’re right, we’ve been caught! How much longer could we have hidden it?”

You stare at Seokjin like he’s insinuating the worst possible thing ever and before you can drive a wedge in the conversation, Miyeon speaks up.

“I knew it! I’m so happy you two are together!!”

She chuckles and Seokjin looks at her warmly, while you’re simply sending daggers with your eyes in his direction.

“Well, I came here to check if you were awake yet but it seems you already are.” She smiles. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast and then you can head home?”

“Oh no, there’s no way I could possibly–“

“Hey, it’s no worries! Besides, wouldn’t you want to spend more time with your boyfriend?”

Your face immediately sours at that but Seokjin smiles brightly. “Of course she would love to! I’ll drop her home right afterwards.”

“Great!” She grins, “I’ll see you two soon downstairs, don’t take too long!”

Seokjin continues to smile as you scowl while she leaves, but the moment the door shuts, you spin around in frustration.

“What the heck?! We are not together.”

“Listen, I know.” He coaxes, surprisingly serious. “Miyeon must have just considered we were based off of what she saw, but this could actually work out.”

You raise a brow, “What do you mean?”

“Ever since my brother got married, everyone’s been waiting for me to show up one day with someone.” He explains, “That’s why I just quickly went along with it.”

“Okay….” You murmur, already aware of the tedious process thanks to Hoseok’s shared stories.

However, one question lingers in your mind. “But why do I need to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

He could have chosen anyone he wanted, why drag you into this?

He shakes his head, like you weren’t properly understanding, “It’s because you can actually be really convincing as my–”

“What?”

Seokjin abruptly blinks, not realizing the words that were escaping him. “–Uh nothing, just pretend we’re together for a while and then you can go home. Sounds fair?”

You let out a sound of discontentment and Seokjin chuckles, peeking out the door. “Should I take that as a yes?”

“I don’t know… I’m not much of an actress.”

“Just pretend to be madly in love with me,” He gestures to himself, “Like are you seriously going to have any problems with that?”

“Oh my god.” You cover your mouth, trying to stifle down your laughter. “You can be so shameless sometimes.”

He winks in your direction. “Good to know that I’m boyfriend material.”

You playfully rolls your eyes and his brighten. “Okay, I’m going head back downstairs. I’ll see you soon.”

He closes the door behind him and you let out a deep sigh, reminiscing that getting back home was going to be a lot harder than you expected.

After freshening up a bit and changing back into your clothes, you start to feel better, especially when Seokjin managed to find an extra comb and toothpaste that you were extremely grateful to accept. Sending a quick text asking Yuna how she is, you head down the spiraling staircase, noticing loud noises coming from where the kitchen end is.

Upon entering, you notice there’s a set of chairs lined alongside one of the tables, with Miyeon sitting along one side across from a man and woman you don’t recognize.

Well, this is going to be awkward.

Everyone’s heads turn and you raise your hand, waving in their direction. “Hello.”

The man turns his head first, appearing closer to your age and having the exact same eyes as Seokjin. The woman on the other side is older, but her features are nearly identical to his.

“Y/N!” Miyeon calls, snapping your daze and gesturing for you to come closer. “This is my husband and mother-in-law. They just got back this morning.”

“Oh.” You raise your brows, reaching your hand out politely. “It’s nice to mee–“

“Y/N!!”

You frown at the voice, knowing who exactly it belonged to. Suddenly, there’s two arms wrapping around your form, encasing you into a back hug.

“Y/N! My darling!” Seokjin dramatically shouts. “We’ve been apart for far too long!!”

You whisper underneath your breath. “Seokjin, I swear to god–“

“Shh, acting 101. You have to make it believable.” He lets go of you and smiles brightly, but that’s when you notice the spatula in his hand.

You frown, “What are you doing?”

“Cooking, what else does it look like?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out. “You can cook?”

“Yeah, why?” He raises a brow, “Can’t you?”

There’s an awkward silence that lingers that Seokjin can’t quite place his finger on, but thankfully Miyeon comes over and joins the conversation with a smile.

“Y/N, you should come over and sit with us!”

“Sure.” You glance over at Seokjin, “I just need to talk to my…significant other…? For a minute.”

She nods and you’re impressed that you managed to somehow say it properly, but then Seokjin is sweeping you away into the kitchen.

Once you’re away from prying ears, you voice your thoughts. “You have to stop being so dramatic!”

“Dramatic?” He frowns, flipping something on the stove. “I’m just acting the way couples do!”

“Couples don’t act like that!” You falter, “Well, not the normal ones, at least.”

“How am I supposed to know?!”

“You should know! You–“ Your trail off at his words, “You’ve…never been in a relationship before….?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.”

“Woah, really…?”

“Why are you surprised?”

“I don’t know, I just thought someone like you would be…”

“Is this your way of calling me handsome?”

“Oh my god, no!” You shake your head, “Just tone it down, will you?”

“Fine.” He mutters, eyes lighting up. “Oh, and just call me Jin. It’ll be better that way.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You make it sound like we’re so close.”

“What? Don’t you think you should at least try to be close to your fake boyfriend?” He whispers, shaking his head in grievance. “Wow, Y/N. I don’t know if I can even salvage this relationship any longer.”

You chuckle at that and he joins in with a smile, but then Miyeon’s voice pitches through. “I hear laughter~”

“Shoot, okay, I’m going back.” Seokjin nods in agreement and you head to the table everyone is at, getting yourself a seat.

From your corner of your eye, you can already see Miyeon grinning.

“So, you were training Jin, hmm?”

“Uh, yeah.” You nervously smile, “He’s actually been trained by a couple of employee’s before I became the sole person to do it.”

“Oh, so it was personal.”

The way she says it makes it sound like you and Seokjin fell in love with each other the moment you met, but in reality it consisted of a lot of pestering and running around on your part, and rigorous hard work from Seokjin’s end.

“Right…”

“How did the training go?” She wonders. “Did you find yourself liking him more?”

“It was okay…at first.” If you constitute him barely understanding anything and the fact that you couldn’t agree on anything. “But over time, our relationship developed for the good and I guess I would consider that we’re very close now.”

The negotiation arises in your mind, alongside times where you were genuinely so happy with his progress.

“Aw, that sounds so romantic!” Miyeon gushes and it takes every fiber of your being not to recoil at the statement.

“He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?” The question comes from a voice on your left, noticing his mother staring at you curiously.

Your eyes widen, “O-Of course not! He was a very good worker!”

She warmly smiles, almost reminding you of Seokjin’s own smile, “That’s good to hear.”

“She’s asking because he’s worked at the company before,” His brother mentions, “It was through an internship a while ago, and he wasn’t accepted.”

Your brows contort in puzzlement, “Oh…”

“But it’s great to hear that he’s been doing well!” His brother’s eyes spark, “And that you’re together now too.”

“Yeah it is….” Although you’re cringing, you attempt to return his smile, a tad surprised by the news.

Seokjin suddenly emerges out from the kitchen with a tray in his hands, “Food’s ready!”

He begins to set down dishes and you rise from your seat, offering to help but he waves you off.

“You’re a guest. Sit down.” You frown at that and Miyeon giggles, causing you to quirk a brow at her.

Once there’s a plate full of food placed before you, you grab your fork and decide to take a bite of the noodles. In an instant, there’s a burst of flavours in your mouth and you nearly drop your utensils in surprise.

From the corner of your eye, Seokjin notices your reaction and has the smuggest smile you have ever seen on him.

With a cheeky tone, he asks for your opinion, “How is it?”

You clear your throat, “It’s alright.”

He grins, “Oh please, you loved it.”

“I guess…it’s not bad…”

“It’s not bad.” He sarcastically mimics, “What a compliment.”

You playfully glare at him, but Miyeon breaks out in a cluster of coughs and furiously waves her hands in front of her face.

“Miyeon?” You ask in alarm. She shakes his head, features scrunched up.

“I don’t think I can’t eat this, it’s making me nauseous.”

Both you and her husband rise up, but Seokjin is much quicker, swiftly taking the dish away and heading over to the kitchen. He returns within a couple of seconds after Miyeon’s husband is checking on her, bringing a glass of water in his hands and a broth-like soup in his hands.

She gratefully accepts it, taking a couple of sips and reassuring all of you that she was okay. He sets down the soup in front of her.

“I made this just in case the fried food was too much.”

You watch with rounded eyes as a wide smile stretches on Miyeon’s lips and Seokjin softly smiles in return.

He slips into the seat at the far end of the table, which is right next to you, pointing to your food with a thumbs up that just had your head shaking with a smile.

***

Having breakfast with Seokjin and his family is an action you were never expected to have done, but you can definitely say you were more than glad to do so. The best words to describe them would have to be warm and welcoming, as well sharing the same business mindset that’s been drilled into your head. Aside from the fact that they believe you and Seokjin are a thing, you don’t find yourself minding thanks to the familial atmosphere.

You begin to wonder if it’s something you’ve truthfully missed over time, so used to a table that just had you and Yuna.

After everyone’s done eating, you slip out of your seat and begin to collect the plates, heading into the kitchen to place them by the sink.

Seokjin lifts his head up with a smile, “Thanks.”

“What are you doing?” You tilt your head, noticing he was hunching over the counter.

“Oh, I was cutting some cabbage to use later.” He explains, “If you don’t make something out of it fast, it starts to go bad.”

You hum, glancing around. “I’m surprised you were cooking for your family, do you do it every time?”

He shrugs, “Not all the time, but whenever I feel like it. We do have chefs,” He points out, “–if that’s what you’re wondering, but I just like cooking so I’ll make breakfast or lunch sometimes.”

You nod, “I’m impressed.”

He grins lopsidedly, “By what? That I can probably wield a knife better than a business deal?”

“Oh come on, I didn’t say that!” He loudly laughs and you stare at the perfectly cut cabbage next to him, a pout rising on your lips. “I’m just saying…that cooking is a good skill to have. There’s a lot of people that take it for granted and it isn’t as easy as it looks–“

He swivels around with wide eyes, “Oh my god, you can’t cook, can you?”

“I can cook!” You protest in defense, “J-Just not as well…”

His eyes flicker in recognition, offense written all over his features, “Wait, and you said my food’s ‘not bad’?”

“Well yeah, but–“ He turns around, rummaging around the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Hold on.” After a moment passes, he faces you again, a spoon in his hands that he gently blows on.

“I was making this for lunch, but I want you to try it.” He brings it up to your mouth and you almost flinch from the proximity, but cautiously take a sip.

It’s incredible, even better than the noodles he served everyone and you hum in contentment.

He looks at you with expectant eyes and it’s beginning to get harder and harder to dodge the truth.

“I-It’s good…”

He beams, “That’s nice to hear, because you’re getting some of it to take home too.”

“What?! Seokjin, it’s fine! You don’t have to–“

He abruptly turns, a knowing look in his eyes that’s accompanied with a warm smile, “Didn’t I say you can call me Jin?”

You blink wide-eyed, rendered speechless.

He raises a brow, “What? Finally discover I’m handsome yet?”

You instantly scoff with a smile, “Just give me the damn food.”

He grins, completely overjoyed.

You encase Miyeon into a big hug.

“Thank you for letting me stay over for the night.”

“It’s no worry at all, Y/N!” She releases you, “I’m just so happy we were able to reconnect again.”

A warm smile pulls at your lips. Aside from your workplace relationships, you didn’t really have any other significant friendships.

It makes you feel even more so grateful to have met her again.

“We should do something…like maybe go out during the weekend.” You suggest, and she beams.

“I would love that!”

You warmly smile, turning your attention over to the staircase. You recall Jin had told you to wait for him as he grabbed his keys.

“I also have to mention–“ You swirl around and Miyeon has a glint to her eyes, “You and Jin…you two make a good pair.”

You instantly scoff, having heard many remarks about the two of you throughout the day with the only recollection being the times you were training him.

“I don’t know, he can really be loud and obnoxious at times.”

“Really?” Miyeon blinks and you raise a brow.

“Yeah, don’t you think so?”

She places a finger against her lips, deep in thought. “Well there are times where he makes a lot of jokes, puns, even.”

You don’t even need to know him too long to wholeheartedly agree with that. “–but Jin can be very sweet and caring, I just feel so lucky to have him around.”

Your brows knit together at that. You wonder if being around him so much within a work environment has almost desensitized you to his presence, not having really paid attention to any of his actions.

“Don’t worry though, I’m definitely sure Jinnie loves you a lot!” She exclaims and before you even have a chance to blink at that nickname, the sound of jingling keys greets your eyes.

Jin emerges from behind you, “Hey! Are you ready to go?”

You nod, glancing at Miyeon quickly, “I’ll see you soon.”

She eagerly smiles, waving at you as you follow Jin back to his car. You slip into the passenger seat, letting out a relieved sigh once he turns the keys and the engine roars.

“I’m so glad all that pretending to be in a relationship is finally over.”

Jin chuckles, looking behind him as he reverses the car, “Hey it wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

“It wasn’t…” You mention as he pulls fully out of the driveway, “But someone’s dramatics didn’t exactly help.”

“That’s it, I think we need to break up.”

You laugh and he glances at you with a smile before driving ahead.

“By the way, what were you and Miyeon talking about before I came down?”

“Oh, nothing really. She was just convincing me on how great you are and that we would make a good pair.”

“She’s not wrong about the first one.” He pitches in.

You roll your eyes, “‒that and I discovered the fact that she calls you ‘Jinnie’.”

His head whips around, not quite expecting to hear that answer to leave you.

You laugh at his expression, “Why did she call me that in front of you?!”

“Oh come on, I think it’s cute!” You respond, “Right, Jinnie?”

He lets out a groan and your shoulders begin to shake with the rate at how much you’re laughing.

“Alright, I’ll stop.” You bring up when he just seems to look more and more deflated, “I have to admit though, your family’s really nice.”

“Sure, I bet they told you a bunch of awful and embarrassing things about me.”

You shrug, “I’m not going to spill, so I guess we’ll never know.”

He sends a glare in your direction and your voice pipes down, “You know, your brother did tell me something….”

“Was it about my limited-edition Mario collection?”

Your eyes round. “What? No…”

Jin nervously laughs, “Oh uh, good. Because it isn’t true.”

Somehow you think he’s not telling the truth, but you skim over the fact, “He actually told me you worked for the company before through an internship….and that you didn’t get accepted.”

His voice drops a tone, “Oh…”

“It was just something he mentioned really quickly–“ You hurriedly say, his reaction telling enough of his experience. “I was just surprised and–“

“No, he’s right. I got the opportunity with an internship and ultimately, wasn’t hired.”

You slowly nod, taken aback with his honesty. “I think at the end of the day….I wasn’t ready. I still don’t think I am.” He lowly chuckles, “I used to think someone like me could never possibly work in the office and I compared myself to my brother a lot, who I still think would be a far better CEO.”

Your eyes widen, staring at him with a mix of surprise and concern, “But my dad wanted me to take up the role instead of Seokjung. I tried convincing him, saying that I wouldn’t make for a good CEO, but he was persistent and told me to just believe in myself and his choice.”

He lets out a long drawn out sigh, “I’ve been just trying my best and by the looks of it, it seems like I’m making progress.”

He glances over at you with a small smile and you feel a bit touched with the gesture.

“So we’ll see how things go…” He whispers, voice suddenly pitching up. “I mean, I certainly have the look of the CEO, but the skills….ehhh….”

“Oh please, don’t sell yourself so short.” You chide and he grins.

“Why not? Don’t you think I'm the type of person who should be married with a kid?”

Your mouth falls agape and he bursts out laughing.

“Oh come on, that was a one-time mistake!”

“I’ll remember it the next time you think I’m married to my sister-in-law.”

You cross your arms, “There isn’t going to be a next time!”

“Right, you’ll probably just find someone random and assume I’m married to them.”

“Jin!”

Despite your efforts for him to stop his teasing, he keeps laughing and whispering something along the lines of ‘this is just pure gold’. Eventually, you can’t help yourself and join in, relieved that he was smiling once again.

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 8 months ago

Text

OC Story: 916

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Chapter 1 - "Internal Affairs"

After discovering a child inside the cockpit of a Corporate Soldat, David and his mercenaries retreat back to their base and attempt to identify the mysterious pilot....

Genre: Scifi (Mecha) Content Warning: General descriptions of violence, long text jumpscare after you press Keep Reading lmao Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: For the person who said that the story so far reminded them of Iron-Blooded Orphans, you're gonna be reminded of it a LOT more during this chapter. More in depth author's note at the end. Thanks for taking the time to read this if you do, feedback is always appreciated!

David stood by an open doorframe, looking into the empty hallway of abandoned school before he turned his attention to the room he stood outside of. The room was presumably a nurse's office since there were beds inside. Whether or not they were entirely clean was a luxury he couldn't afford since his mercenaries immediately attended to the child they had found.

After the doctors determined that he would at least wake up soon, they departed to the rest of the convoy outside, leaving David and another mercenary attending the child.

David crossed his arm and examined the child sleeping in the bed closely. He didn’t even have a shirt on and the wires connecting from his chest to the spine was emitting some kind of white noise. The numbers on his neck did not inspire any confidence in the idea that he came from anywhere pleasant, let alone the fact he arrived from a secret tunnel inside a damaged Soldat.

Even his head wasn’t completely intact, with part of his hair shaved off and revealing some kind of slot inside, which was a mixture of flesh and metal bits. David tried his best to ignore looking at it, if he did any longer he might throw up.

His eyes glanced over to his second in command, Chloe, who pushed back her red bangs and put her face closer to the child’s neck. Her fair skin contrasted with the paleness of the child’s skin, giving the impression that he had barely seen the sun. Though given the nature of his appearance, that probably was the case.

Even though Chloe was quite short among the other members of Wolf Company, she towered over the child, whereas a normal child would have at least come up to her chest. Which disturbed David all the more.

Just how young was this kid when he was turned into…whatever the hell this was?

“Well, he gonna be fine, Chloe?” David asked as his massive shoulders shrugged.

Chloe leaned back as she responded to his question.

“He’s lucky to still be breathing right now, Boss. I can’t make heads or tails of what the crap all over him is specifically meant to do, but all I can tell is that it’s keeping him alive.”

“Hmph.” David grunted as he walked outside the room and into a long hallway, staring out the windows directly in front of him.

Through the broken glass, he saw several of the engineers taking a look at the R1-N0 Soldat, which stood in the middle of a courtyard. Several vehicles surrounded it with loads of equipment and scanners, as two of his men in Soldats stood on guard a fair distance away, one blocking a straight shot on the crew and the other to its right. Their left flank was blocked by the building he was in, which formed an L-shape.

Wolf Company had taken refuge in an abandoned school on the far right border of Cumbria. It was fairly secure, and they had taken up residence for the past four weeks without incident. It was a nice change of pace without rival PMC’s trying to hunt them down for past aggressions. David frowned at that. He had said it was nothing personal every time they came to blows, yet it always ended up with them getting pursued. Shrugging, he decided to let that thought go for the moment.

“What have you grease monkeys got for me so far?”

“Boss, the equipment this kid’s rocking is insane! Thing’s armed with a 60mm autocannon that could punch through all of our Soldats, barring yours. Pretty sure there’s a heat dagger hidden somewhere too, and that's not to mention its armor! The damage looks bad but it's barely even dented!”

David was taken slightly aback as he stole another glance at the blast marks on the R1-N0. The right shoulder was completely blackened, but now that the engineer mentioned it, he did not see any internal damage. There was not even any sparks of electronics or oil splashes.

“Guess that makes sense considering it’s Dyson tech. Speaking of which, how’s the cockpit?”

“The seat has some kind of connecting point for the pilot’s back. We tried to activate it, but it just didn’t budge. We think it’s some kinda safeguard against hijacking, but not positive on that yet.”

As much as David wanted to examine the Soldat himself, this kid was the far more pressing matter. That being said, he did not feel entirely comfortable just leaving it be. There’s no way it would be so defenseless without a pilot, especially since it reeked of corporate funding.

“At least this time it ain’t trying to kill us.” David muttered to himself.

David had only seen the R1-N0 once, and that was all it took for him to hope he would never be fighting one again.

One year ago, Wolf Company was tasked by a rival corporation to attack a Dyson outpost in Florence territory. What was supposed to be an easy job ended in complete disaster when his team were ambushed by these R1-N0’s. They responded to no hails, and even when his engineers jammed into their communications, there was absolutely nothing being said.

No orders, tactics, or even trash talk. It was an eerie silence, which was impossible considering how well coordinated they were and how they were always attacking together. Even other reports by other PMC's indicated that they attacked the same way, in a group.

That was the one thing he took away from these Soldats, the Dyson R1-N0’s never fought alone, and they fought like demons. Why was this one by itself, and more importantly, why was there a kid in there?

“Boss, kids waking up!” Chloe shouted from across the hallway.

“Speak of the devil. Only took five hours…Coming!”

David walked into the room right as the child opened his eyes. He slowly sat upright and his face remained unchanged upon seeing two ill-dressed strangers staring back, in a room he probably had no idea where the location was. The child's lack of reaction was not entirely surprising to David. He sat there blinking silently at the two of them.

“...You uh, alright there kid?” Chloe asked, crossing her arms. She eyed him up and down, noting his strange behavior.

“Yes.” The child replied promptly, but emotionlessly.

“No…injuries or anything?” David questioned next.

“Mild dizziness, but it will pass.”

David and Chloe exchanged a glance that indicated neither of them knew how to carry out the conversation.

“Is something the matter? You two look unable to speak.” Now it was the child’s turn to interrogate them.

“Something the ma-” Chloe sounded flabbergasted, the face she made David couldn’t tell if she was insulted, confused, or a mixture of both. “Of course we look unable to speak! You got more metal bits coming out of ya then my goddamn cockpit, and here you are, brushing us off as if it’s normal!”

“...Is it not?”

David cleared his throat as he motioned with his hand towards Chloe for her to ease off. She just shrugged and clicked her tongue, stepping back.

“Name’s David, but just call me Boss. That’s Chloe to my left. How about yours, kid?”

“EH-916.”

“...Your name, not your callsign.”

“EH-916.”

“...God almighty, it’s worse than I thought. People just call you the number they branded onto your neck?”

“Yes.”

Somehow, talking with the kid made him feel even more uneasy. The way he responded so matter of factly to his bizarre circumstances. Actually, the fact he was this proper in speaking was another indicator of what terrible things had been done to him.

“Psh, your eyes may look like you have some life, but there’s nothing going on upstairs evidently!” Chloe snarked, an exhale of mild amusement leaving her nose.

“Last I checked, Chloe, only thing going on up in that dome of yours is blowing stuff up,” David retorted. “Least this kid knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

Chloe was appearing like she was about to scream something vulgar in return, but David shut her up by asking 916 another question. This time, he knelt down so he could get on eye level with him.

“Alright, 916. Tell me, what the hell were you doing in a Soldat?”

“That is my designated R1-N0.”

“Your designated…You’re the main pilot of that thing?”

“Yes.”

Chloe stepped forward shaking her head.

“But you’re just a kid! How can you pilot something that-’

“I am an Enhanced Human. My purpose in life was to fulfill my orders given to me by Dyson Headquarters. I am augmented to efficiently pilot the R1-N0 Soldat and work alongside other Enhanced Humans.”

Finally, the pieces started to click in David’s head. This wasn’t just some one-off freak experiment. He could only fathom the scale of it, but the way 916 was speaking-

“There’s…more of you?”

“The others were ordered to find the Florence Government soldiers who attacked our corporate headquarters. My last directive was not to trust any of the employees of Dyson, escape, and live life to the fullest, and not waste it.”

“Boss, that means the skirmish we were told about-”

“Yeah, kid here must’ve come from that.”

David examined 916 once again, realizing how much of him appeared to be augmented, and that was only what he could see. The wires on his chest connected to the protruding, obviously metallic spine, the slot on his head, god knows what else the kid was hiding.

“You don’t seem to care that you’re exposing some pretty serious stuff, 916.”

“I believe those responsible are already being punished by the Florence government, Boss. If you planned to kill me and salvage my R1-N0, I would not be here, so it is obvious you have questions. I am no longer under orders from Dyson. My creator told me I was…free. I am unsure of what it means to be that.”

David chuckled at that. He doubted there was anyone who did know what it truly meant to be free. Even himself and the rest of Wolf Company. Standing back up, he offered a hand to 916. The size of his palm completely dwarfed 916’s, but he offered it gently, waiting for him to take it.

“Tell ya what. How about we show you around? Long as you promise not to kill us inside that thing, anyway.”

“As long as you do not give me a reason to.”

David laughed heartily at the remark, and gladly took 916’s hand and helped him up. He motioned for Chloe to follow, which she gave a slight smirk at the order.

…

The three of them stood in front of the kneeling R1-N0 as the engineers and other crew began murmuring to themselves. The sight of someone so small with so many augmentations amazed and scared them equally. This kid was the pilot of a corporate mech?

One of the engineers looked back and gave a quick salute.

“Boss. Chloe…That kid our pilot?”

“So he claims to be." David responded as his head turned to 916. "Mind powering it up? My boys seem to have trouble doing so.”

916 made an affirming hum. Before anyone could offer a lift or even a stepladder, he began climbing into the cockpit with relative ease. The way he did so looked like he had jumped into a Soldat without the assistance of any kind of leverage many times.

While 916 made motions to activate his Soldat, David stepped closer to the machine. Now that he was able to look at the R1-N0 properly up close, he began making out many details that he wasn’t able to before.

The head’s visor was segmented into four different smaller visors, two on each side of the face. It shone a bright blue as the sun reflected light off it, and the shape of the head itself was angular, with two yellow bits of jagged armor making it seem like it had tusks. The antenna on the Soldat was a massive solid piece of yellow steel jutting upwards, making it look like a horn.

“Guess that’s why other mercs called it the Rhino…” David commented to himself.

Looking at the torso, it also followed the same design philosophy of the head. Angular, segmented by different plates of armor. Though most of the white paint was chipped or outright black and brown thanks to the damage done.

Well, superficial damage anyway. As far as he could tell, any shot that did hit it bounced right off. The massive hatch in the middle opened upwards and revealed the cockpit, where 916 was still activating his Soldat. He was able to see some kind of latching mechanism attach to the spine, which grossed him out.

Moving onto the arms, it had stopped being angular and more compact, the shoulders and arms resembling a box-like shape. The hands of the R1-N0 contrasted with its more utilitarian design, and appeared to be closer to claws than anything with its sharp fingers extending past its palm.

And…was that a red stain on the right hand?

Deliberately choosing to ignore that, David then looked at the legs. It was the most massive part of the Soldat, the thighs being somehow even larger pieces of armor, making it hard to separate the it from the rest of the leg at a glance.

The knees plates were facing outwards and almost the size of the leg itself, with the feet being massive claws, two toes in front and back.

He did remember these suits being faster than any Soldat he had seen, able to land from jumping extreme heights and having zero issues speeding around with their thrusters, maybe those claws helped stabilize it?

Finally, 916 was finished and everyone saw his eyes flash red, then back to violet, scaring a couple of the engineers and admittedly even David and Chloe too.

The R1-N0 stood properly upright, catching the attention of the other two Soldats. In comparison, the R1-N0 stood a meter taller. It was seven meters, by his guess. The other two were Florence Soldats, who were far less flashy than the R1-N0. Their colors had been adjusted to Wolf Company’s primary color: gray and black accents instead of the Florence dark brown.

Their chest was essentially a massive blocky square, with the cockpit being right above the waist. The legs were blocky, but more proportionate to the rest of the Soldat. The arms were not too dissimilar from the R1-N0, but the length of them were shorter, going to the top of the thighs, and the hands were far more human in appearance.

In fact, everything about the Florence Soldat was far more humanoid than the R1-N0, to the point it could be seen as a scaled up human in heavy armor. Even the head appeared friendlier in comparison. It had one uninterrupted red visor, as if it were a soldier’s helmet, with slightly more armor poking out above the visor. The only complaint David really had with them were the names given to this class of Soldat.

“Hm, everything about the Rhino makes these Guardian-types look like child’s play…”

“Boss.” David heard 916 call out to him.

“I am now in the Soldat. Is there anything you wanted me to do?”

The cockpit still remained open, and everyone looked impressed that he had activated it so easily. The head’s blue segmented visors stared straight at David, alongside 916 himself.

“Uh…I guess give us a damage report? It looked pretty bad but we weren’t able to detect internal damage.”

916’s eyes flickered several different colors, shocking the crew again before reading a report out loud on his right monitor.

“Superficial damage. Electric circuits require a minor tune up, as well as calibrations. With the proper tools I can manage it myself.”

“How the hell can you-?”

“The data for maintenance is installed in my head via a processing chip.” 916 replied, as if having a chip inside your brain was the norm.

“Riiiight, how could I overlook something so obvious?” David sarcastically commented.

“Do not feel bad, it is not obvious. Apparently.”

“Motherf…” David just sighed as Chloe and some of the other mercenaries laughed.

“Guess your age’s getting to ya, eh boss?” The engineer chuckled.

David shot everyone a glance that quickly shut everyone up.

“Crack a joke about my age again, and I’m crackin’ your neck.” David grumbled. He was only thirty-five, that was way too young to start making jokes about that kind of thing. He looked back up to 916. “Alright, I guess next we can-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the guarding Soldats quickly spun around to the left flank, moving behind cover and turning towards the company.

“Boss!” The closest one shouted from within his Soldat, using the machine’s speakers.

“Our radars are picking up something arriving! We think they’re Soldats! Ten minutes out!”

Everyone suddenly turned to David, awaiting their orders.

“The hell? Chloe, get your and Hayes’ asses into your Soldats, get mine too while you’re at it! Everyone pack your shit and get ready to leave, ASAP! And kid!-”

The R1-N0 adjusted itself to fully look at David as the courtyard’s population quickly scattered towards all directions. The two Soldats nodded at each other and one approached the corner of the wall carefully while the other walked closer to David.

“If you want to get out of here, now’s your chance. This is a problem for Wolf Company, not you.”

“Do you not need any assistance?”

“You don’t owe us anything.”

“But you helped me out of the Soldat. You did not need to do that for me either.”

Now David understood the emotion Chloe felt earlier.

“What? Who wouldn’t help a ki-?! Because I-...Know what, I don’t care. Do what you want.”

“Boss! I’m getting hailed by the Soldats!” One of the Guardian-Soldats knelt down to pick up David with its hand, and brought it close to the cockpit.

The pilot’s right monitor picked up an open channel, and the screen turned on to reveal a dark skinned man dressed in a navy blue uniform.

“B-Boss, isn’t that-?!”

“Florence Military Police…?”

The pilot leaned back as David stepped inside the cockpit.

“Am I currently speaking to the leader of Wolf Company?”

“You are. Whom do I owe the displeasure?”

“Captain Alana of the Florence Military Police. I wish to speak to you regarding someone currently in your vicinity.”

“You’re aware you’re currently breaking a lot of treaties just by coming into the Cumbrian border, ain’tcha?”

“We are dealing with an internal affair, and have already approved it with local Cumbrian forces before entering. As soon as we finish, we will leave, but more importantly, we will be leaving you alone.”

“...This about the kid?”

“So, the R1-N0 is there.”

“What’s it to you?”

“As you can see, the child has undergone cruel and horrific treatment by Dyson. We only wish to make things right by taking him somewhere safe.”

David scoffed, tilting his head.

“Far as I remember, it was Florence who let Dyson balls deep into their country, to the point you all had those exact Soldats serving alongside your soldiers. If you knew they were pulling those kinda stunts, why didn’t you do anything about it?”

Surprisingly, Alana looked ashamed.

“I will freely admit that I could not do anything to touch the corporations sooner. You’re correct in saying that their influence over our government is far larger than it ever should have grown. But we are changing that now. That pilot will join the other children and us to testify against them in court. If you can direct the pilot to us now, you can help us loosen the grip of Dyson everywhere.”

“You mean so you can save your asses for enslaving kids to fight wars for you.”

“I will not ask again.”

“Heh, well it ain’t up to me anyway. Up to the kid.”

“Then I will give you ten minutes to ask him to make up his mind. We are authorized to use deadly force if anyone interferes. I certainly hope you’ll make the right choice.”

The monitor turned off with David sighing. He turned to the pilot.

“You two wait for my order. Chloe and Hayes will be joining us soon.”

The pilot saluted as David went back to the Soldat’s palm and was taken back to the ground. The R1-N0 simply stared at David while he crossed his arms.

“I assume you heard the whole thing.”

“Yes.” The voice came out of the R1-N0’s speaker.

“Why did you not go with them if they came to bust you and your buddies out?”

916 remained silent for a moment. After what seemed like a small eternity, he finally gave David an answer.

“After the massacre at the training site, I do not believe my kind would be welcome in any nation. Additionally, the data I have accumulated about Florence through working with their military and the information compiled by Doctor Moreau, indicates that we would still be used for their own purposes.”

“That Alana guy seemed to be decent…Putting aside the whole condescending tone, anyway.”

“Captain Alana may guarantee my safety during the trial, but he cannot protect us from what may happen after. The political ramifications of our very existence puts their government in a precarious state with Cumbria, given we were created for the sole purpose of waging war during peacetime. Our kind will be disposed of one way or another.”

“...”

David was troubled by 916’s predicament far more than he cared to admit. A kid as young as he was should not be able to have this much foresight about their fate, nor should they be so pragmatic about it.

“You were wanting to know what it means to be free, right, 916?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that answer can only come to you. I can’t tell you what to do, neither can Florence, or anyone else. If you decide to fight them, or even us, then do it. Or you can run, choice is yours.”

David started to walk towards the courtyard exit, hearing more of his merc's Soldats approaching.

“Which one is the most efficient course of action, Boss?”

David chuckled, turning to face 916. He could see in the cockpit, 916’s face was blank, but his eyes looked at him like an actual child now. At least they had not stripped the kid of all his humanity.

“That’s the thing, kid. No one really knows. Ain’t freedom a bitch?”

…

Lieutenant Justeen sat inside the cockpit of her Soldat as her monitor displayed the squad. It contained herself and five other Guardian Soldats. They had followed the trail of destruction the lone Soldat caused and ended up in Cumbrian territory. After Alana had contacted the local officials, they only had a day to complete their operation, which was not nearly enough time. To make matters worse, they could only bring a small force so as to not escalate tensions between the countries.

“I guess we should be thankful Dyson put tracking chips inside all their Soldats…”

The area they followed the Soldat into appeared to be the ruins of some kind of city, with broken buildings and streets as far as the eye could see. Her team was currently situated behind what she could only assume used to be a skyscraper, with the top half of the building being gone, it was hard to tell.

Had the R1-N0 been taken deeper into territory and not to the border, they would have had zero chance to recapture the machine. But more importantly, they were here to save the pilot. Thankfully, the R1-N0 appeared to be standing still according to her tracker. But from the sounds of things, it looked like this PMC captured the poor child. He had gone through enough suffering, it was time to put a stop to this.

“This is Lieutenant Justeen, listen up!” Justeen sternly spoke to her squad. “The captain gave us ten minutes before we begin the operation. Wolf Company has seasoned Soldat pilots in their ranks, do not underestimate them! We’ll take them out if they try to stop us, save the child, and return back to Florence territory!”

“For the record, kid ain’t exactly in need of saving.” An unknown voice replied to her.

Justeen turned to her right monitor, almost snarling at the voice. This was an encrypted channel, no one should be able to tune into it. “Who is this?! Identify yourself!”

Over the horizon and emerging from around the corner of a shopping center, she could see a…tank?

No, it was not just a tank, it had arms and two massive cannons on the shoulders. It was as if some maniac ripped the top half of a Guardian Soldat and slapped it on some tank treads and called it a day. The colors were bright gray, with black stripes accenting parts of its shoulder armor. The head had a black visor with two tubes and a vent connecting them directly underneath it, making it appear like it was a gas mask. It was unlike any Soldat she had seen before.

“Name’s Boss. Real nice to meet you Florence boys and girls after you trashed our home."

“How is he speaking to us?!”

“Ma’am, it looks like he knew what frequency our comms were on!” One of her soldiers replied.

“Shit, are they hacking into our channel?”

“Nah, not really.” David answered Justeen, the smirk in his tone apparent. “Let’s just say I had a little bird tell me, and leave it at that.”

…

The R1-N0 had its hand on the shoulder of a Guardian Soldat, still remaining in the courtyard as everyone was quickly gathering their gear for an evacuation.

“I…suppose it does make sense that you know how to tap into Florence communications.” The Guardian Soldat’s head turned to the R1-N0. 916’s grunt of affirmation came through the speaker, and both listened back into the conversation.

…

“Now, I’m not keen on killing people usually, and today’s no exception. We don’t wanna hurt ya, but I am only gonna say this once.” Justeen saw the black visor suddenly gain a singular pink circle, it moved left to right before staring right at her, the twin cannons slowly rising up. “Get the fuck off my lawn.”

“SCATTER!” Justeen screamed into her mic. Her squad used their thrusters to quickly back off as she saw the cannons fire upwards, the explosions rocking the buildings they were behind.

“Take him down, turn off Florence channels and switch to physical comms! Formation B!” Justeen wanted to punch the nearest wall.

They could only speak if their Soldats were in physical contact. Trying to coordinate this attack suddenly became much more difficult. Gripping her controls tightly, she accelerated around the streets, keeping an eye on her motion tracker as one of her squadmates followed behind. She refused to be beaten by some petty mercenary.

...

“Flare, Screw. They’re moving into groups of two, I count six Soldats in total." David leaned back into his seat. "Watch your ass, they’re special forces according to the kid.”

“Flare here, roger that!” Chloe’s voice came through the radio.

“Screw, understood. Remember when I asked if we’d get any action, boss? Looks like I’ll get my wish!” An energetic young voice replied back.

“Tch, don’t get too excited. They’ll cap your ass if you give them a chance. Now, move out!”

The tank Soldat began speeding down the streets, facing forward so his cannons wouldn’t bump into any of the buildings. He was slightly worried about getting flanked due to the low turning speed of his machine, but he was confident the armor could hold up. Guardian Soldats never carried ammunition to pierce through his kind of Soldat.

Just as he predicted, two Soldats quickly emerged behind him and opened fire. The cockpit shook violently from from the impact, which made him smirk. His torso quickly spun 180 degrees, the machine guns mounted onto the lower arms pointing right at them.

Feeling the Soldat’s arms rattle as an overwhelming amount of bullet shells flew out of it made David feel alive. At least until he saw the ammunition costs, but he wanted to enjoy the moment for right now.

The two Soldats weren’t expecting him to turn around so quickly and were hit by his bullets before they hid behind separate buildings. David didn’t expect any serious damage to be inflicted, but it was more to show that if they opened fire, he could quickly retaliate, hopefully making them think twice about their strategy.

Seeing the line of rubble in between him and one of the other Soldats made his smirk grow into a full grown smile. He stopped firing before sliding into cover.

...

“Damn, that was close!” The soldier said, reloading his Soldat’s rifle. Justeen quickly hopped over to his building once the fire stopped and put a hand on the shoulder.

“I’ll draw his attention, and you’ll hop onto his mech and take it out with a heat dagger. That armor is way too strong for our rifles to punch through.”

“Understood.”

“Now, on my mark, I’ll head down the street he esca-”

The two quickly noticed the sounds of something crashing, and it was getting closer. They quickly boosted away from each other as the building they were hiding behind suddenly burst with the tank Soldat, arms stretched outwards and unloading its ammo into them. It was covered in rubble, but looked barely affected as the monoeye swung left to right rapidly.

Their Soldats rattled from the amount of bullets hitting them as warning sirens blared inside their cockpits. They hid behind other buildings, but now they would have to improvise with the tank Soldat right on their heels. Justeen heard the pilot’s voice on an open channel.

“Aw come on now, ya’ll are acting like a buncha bitches! These little bullets ain’t gonna hurt ya! If you come out again, I can show ya how the Juggernaut really punches!”

Clenching her teeth, Justeen examined her routes, refusing to be goaded into aggression. She was going to show these mercs that special forces were not to be underestimated.

…

Two of the Florence soldiers sped down the streets, listening closely for the sounds of explosions and gunfire. One of them slowed down for the other and their shoulders made contact.

“We need to help the LT!”

“If there are other Soldats in the area, we can’t let them get the jump on the rest of us either. We need to-”

"SNIPER!”

A narrowly missed shot straight past them and almost took off one of their heads, forcing the soldiers to dash behind a tall building together. Judging from the angle of the shot, the sniper was extremely close to their location, and not at an angle.

The one on the left put their rifle onto their back and pulled out a pistol. The Soldat aimed it blindly over the side and fired in random directions where he guessed the sniper came from.

Another shot from the sniper took the hand clean off, but the Soldat calmly turned towards its comrade. It motioned with its remaining hand, moving it up and down to the right side twice. Both nodding in affirmation, the right Soldat prepared a grenade as the left one got its rifle back out with its remaining hand.

Hayes reloaded the rifle as he made a fist pump to himself in the cockpit. The Soldat itself was lightly armored and far slimmer than the Guardian-types or the R1-N0. It had the same proportions as the Guardian, but its head was angular and narrow with a single circular lens acting as its eyes.

The armor itself was very light and a first glance would tell someone it was a machine meant for scouting, not direct fights. However, this did not stop him from taking the sniper dangerously close to the area of operations, instead of farther away or inside a building. It lied on its stomach down a busy street, aiming down a relatively large kill zone.

“Hah, got your hand, bitch!” He chuckled. “Now poke your head out so I can take it off!”

Instead of a head, a grenade was thrown out on the left side, exploding into a cloud of smoke. Hayes grunted as he switched to thermal vision on his Soldat's monitor, but found it was being scrambled. The Soldat he had shot the hand off of emerged from the smoke, firing on his exact location, pinning him down with machine gun fire. One of the stray shots caught his arm, making the entire Soldat shake.

"Shit, Flare! I've been compromised!"

He grabbed the sniper and stood up and turned around to make a run for it, before the other Guardian Soldat emerged directly in front of it with a dagger that stabbed into the head. The dagger began glowing, parts of it melting before it detonated into a small explosion.

"THE MAIN CAMERA! S-SOMEONE?!"

Hayes' Soldat fell down onto its back as the two soldiers slowly approached him. The undamaged one put its hand onto their comrades shoulder. The damaged Soldat's pilot reached for their encrypted comms, making sure the enemy could hear it as well.

"Lieutenant, do you copy? This is Mark and Hale. We disabled an enemy sniper. This sector is cl-"

Suddenly, a Guardian Soldat came bursting through the building on their left, tumbling into the standing two and causing them all to fall. Quickly getting up and helping their fellow soldier to stand, they noticed several melted armor plates and slash marks on it.

It had no weapons and the arms were cut down to its elbows. The two soldiers quickly raised their weapons when another Soldat emerged from the hole, carrying a shotgun and a small sword.

Compared to every Soldat present, this one was even less armored than the sniper, however its legs resembled that of an insect, the joints being reversed. The entire design of the Soldat was slim, pointy, and extremely agile. The arms were lanky and thin, as well as the legs. The head was almost indistinguishable from its torso, both designs slimmed back and two lenses acting as the eyes.

As soon as it emerged from the hole, it put the shotgun directly against the head of the right Soldat, blasted it apart with one shot before it quickly leapt out of the way as the other soldier tried to retaliate. The armless Soldat attempted to retreat as their comrade tried to give them cover fire.

"THIS IS MARK, NOT CLEAR! NOT CLEAR!"

Chloe gracefully leapt around the streets and buildings at a rapid speed, getting a good look at the damage done. The Soldat she disabled had its head arms completely obliterated, but the cockpit remained intact, surprisingly. The same went for Hayes' Soldat, sighing when she realized what its position was.

"Screw, what did you think a sniper would do against targets THAT close?! Theres like seven buildings we passed you could've holed up in, and you chose the god damn floor?!"

“S-Shut up, I could’ve handled them!”

“Oh yeah, I see that! Next time how about we strap a bomb to ya since you’re going to get that close in a SCOUTING SOLDAT?!”

…

916 lifted his Soldat's hand off the merc's shoulder, turning his speakers on.

"How quickly can friendly units assist them?"

"Five minutes! We just finished packing all our gear, 2 more soldats will go to help!"

That was too slow. From the sounds of it, they'd get overwhelmed before any of them could even arrive. The only one who could possibly get there-

The R1-N0's engine and thrusters activated, the visor turning into scarlet.

“CE-DRIVE, ACTIVATED.”

"I will get there in two. Prepare to retrieve your friends."

Without another word, the R1-N0 leapt over the entire school with a combination of the jump and its thrusters kicking into full boost. Unlike before, 916 was completely calm, but he would only be able to keep the mode up for a few minutes before he would either lose consciousness, or the suit lost power. The dizziness from before was still present.

“Inconvenient, but will not affect combat performance.” 916 idly commented as his Soldat dodged the rapidly incoming buildings, skirting left and right and creating a small cloud of dust and debris in his wake.

…

The other Soldat Chloe had been fighting joined the fight, attempting to put her suit down with careful precision shots. She leapt from building to building, trying to get close enough to where she could effectively use her shotgun. But the soldiers kept retreating behind rubble that was too tall for her to jump on, or positions that would leave her far too out in the open.

"Tch, you're making this a real pain for me!"

One of the soldiers' rifles aimed away from her, instead towards the building she was about to land on. And with a single shot, destabilized the floor. Before she could realize what happened, the building collapsed and took out her balance the moment her Soldat landed.

The two soldiers closed in on her as her Soldat struggled to get up, her armor shaking violently from the direct hits. She threw her sword at the one approaching on the left and skewered the head, making it fall to the ground as the weapon fired wildly. The one on its right ducked to dodge friendly fire, and saw Chloe raise her shotgun.

"HAH, I WIN!-"

The armless Soldat emerged from the corner of the ruins she was trapped in and rammed straight into her, making the shotgun fire into the air as her Soldat fell over again. It put its foot on the arm holding the shotgun as his squadmate quickly approached and put the rifle straight on her cockpit.

"...Fuck." Chloe grumbled, her one arm raising into the air, motioning a surrender.

…

Justeen and her other squadmate dodged the falling rubble as it almost collapsed right on top of them, feeling the ground shake from the firing of the tank Soldat's cannons. David kept firing his machine guns every time they tried to poke their head out, and barraged them with the cannons to smoke them out, but he was starting to sweat.

The ammo count for his arms were critically low, and he wouldn't be able to use the shoulder cannons if they got too close. And from what he heard on the comms, they got Chloe and Hayes. He just sighed and sat upright again. His crew and the kid could escape before the rest of Florence could catch up, that's all that really mattered to him.

Suddenly, his motion tracker was picking up a new signature that was approaching.

"Damn, looks like the others are about to hit me too-" He stopped when he realized just how fast that new signature was approaching. It was far too quick to be any of the Florence Soldats, did that mean it was?-

"Lieutenant Justeen? This is EH-916." A boy's voice calmly called out on the open channel.

"God, they just called you numbers…? Ahem, this is Justeen, we are in the middle of active combat and we will retrieve you-"

"I thank you for saving me and the generation 2 Enhanced Humans. However, I am not coming with you."

Justeen recoiled in her seat with shock. Looking at her motion tracker, it had gone from standing still a few hundred meters away to moments from being upon them in the matter of almost two minutes. Her eyes went wide as she remembered what he had done to other Dyson guards.

"The last directive given to me was 'be free and live life to the fullest'. I am still unsure of what that means-”

Justeen brought her rifle back up as did her squadmate, fully focusing on the signature who was now only seconds away from entering the combat zone.

“-But I know, my freedom does not lie with you.”

…

Chloe and Hayes’ Soldats were put up against the wall as the soldiers still had their weapons pointed at them, before their heads turned to their left.

The R1-N0 suddenly leapt over one of the taller buildings, making everyone look up in shock, the thrusters kicking in at the last second as it landed directly in front of the soldiers. The one without arms charged in first, only to be met by the R1-N0 activating its thrusters straight into it, pushing him, and the soldier behind him out the way.

The force of which it pushed them back was something both of them were unprepared for, skidding past the one Soldat with the sword in its head.

916 quickly grabbed the sword as it slid by before deactivating its thrusters, the soldiers sliding back and only stopping when their backs hit a building. Within a few seconds of crashing, 916 skewered both their heads with the sword, nailing them in place before he grabbed the rifle from their hand, and rushed back to the two mercs.

“M-MY SWORD!” Chloe cried out in anguish.

When the Soldat’s heads exploded, it destroyed the sword with it, the two collapsing onto each other. As a small fire erupted from the top of their torsos. 916 stopped his thrusters just enough to slide right in front of the two, grabbing a shotgun in one hand and a sniper in the other.

“I’m borrowing this. Sorry.” 916 calmly apologized to Chloe.

“MY SNIPER!” Hayes cried out in anguish.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Chloe shouted, slamming her terminal. “YOU CAN’T JUST STEAL OUR WEAPONS AND...-” 916 disabled his open channel for the time being so he could focus better on the fight.

Not missing a beat, the R1-N0 activated its thrusters and leapt over the building, getting a view of the Lieutenant’s Soldat and her other squadmate flanking David. They pulled evasive maneuvers, firing precise shots while speeding away from the tank Soldat and landing direct hits on the R1-N0’s front armor.

Each shot shook the Soldat and chipped away parts of the armor, but failed to cause any serious damage. David meanwhile escaped out of line of sight from the others.

When the R1-N0 finally landed on the ground, it rushed into the buildings to avoid any more direct hits, putting the shotgun on its back as it prepared the sniper. Checking the ammo, 916 realized it had none left.

“Adapting combat functionality.” 916 calmly said, the thrusters beginning to activate again, waiting for the Soldats to come closer.

...

Justeen’s breath was caught in her throat. Earlier, the standard soldiers were blowing apart each Dyson guard and their limbs with a single shot, how was this one so resilient?! Her eyes dilated when she began to realize how quickly this one moved in comparison to the standard guards.

It was likely that the security variants were far weaker in combat capability than the ones Captain Alana served with. Recalling that presentation she watched at Dyson Headquarters, they mentioned the pilot was what made the machine so effective.

Which meant…the children were the real threat?!

Her squadmate went ahead of Justeen, attempting to catch 916 by surprise, only for the head to be swatted off and broken into pieces by a sniper rifle. He dropped the sniper as a heat dagger suddenly emerged from a hatch inside the armor of its left arm, which it used to cut the arms off. And with one kick, 916 sent it sliding backwards onto the street below. Quickly turning to face Justeen he readied the shotgun, barrel aimed for her legs.

“No you don’t!” Justeen gritted her teeth as her Soldat pulled the trigger on her rifle, aiming for his weapon.

The shotgun exploded off the R1-N0’s hand, to which it quickly switched over to its heat dagger and closed the distance. With pinpoint accuracy, she aimed for the joints, the R1-N0 failing to dodge in time as each shot slowed it down, giving her enough time to reach for her own combat dagger.

Without warning, the visor of the R1-N0 suddenly switched offline into black, and stalled. Justeen did not waste the chance and went for the head with her own dagger. The visor switched back into a blue as it ducked, making her attack miss and stab into the nearby building.

It quickly rose back up, using its horn to knock the torso backwards, making her stumble and unable to catch her balance. Using her rifle, Justeen took more shots at the joints, finally making an arm explode off and forcing the R1-N0 to stagger.

“It’s over!-”

An explosion suddenly knocked her suit’s feet off the ground, tumbling backwards as debris rained on her main camera, the buckles on her seat barely restraining as she shook violently, the rolling finally stopping after a few seconds.

She struggled to keep her eyes open as consciousness started to fade and the ringing of her ears settled down, but the last thing she saw was the smoke coming out of the tank Soldat’s cannons, the pink monoeye staring her down. Justeen tried to reach for her control before she fell unconscious, her world fading into black.

...

916 sheathed the heat dagger onto his backpack before grabbing the R1-N0's arm on the floor. Once he retrieved his part, 916 slowly walked over to Justeen’s Soldat, stomping on her rifle and crushing it into a miniature explosion of sparks and smoke.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Justeen and Captain Alana, for your concern. Please give my regards to the men who attempted to rescue me with you, and the children of Generation Two.”

The R1-N0’s head turned back to David’s tank Soldat, giving it a single nod.

“Primary threats eliminated. Awaiting orders, Boss.”

916 could not see it, but David's smile was ear to ear.

“Same plan. Pack our shit, and get out ASAP.”

…

After dragging every Florence Soldat to a safer location and igniting a flare, Wolf Company quickly evacuated the abandoned school and left in a small convoy. The Soldats who were not part of the fight took the role of guards as everyone drove in a scattered formation to prevent devastating losses in case of an ambush.

Towards the middle, the damaged Soldats rode in a massive cargo-truck, the truck being the largest one in the convoy.

David, 916, Chloe, and Hayes were being driven by one of the engineers, the four of them in the back of a salvaged APC. Finally settling down after the skirmish, David chuckled and crossed his arms, sweat dripping off his arms and the tank top that barely fit him.

“Now that was some serious skill, kid! I heard the cheers from everyone as you rushed in like some kind of hero.”

“My specialization is close combat rush tactics, Boss. That is the only reason why my R1-N0 was so effective against the Florence soldiers. You are the one who saved me, again.”

“Say what?” David asked, genuinely surprised.

“The R1-N0 could not power my CE-Drive for very long, especially since it was used twice in the span of a few hours. The power dying out in the middle of combat was unintentional. The only reason I am riding with you and not them is because your cannon knocked the Lieutenant unconscious.”

“Heh, no shit?” Chloe chuckled, lightly punching his arm. “Still wouldn’t sell yourself too short kid, that was some serious asskicking you did. That being said, I am still VERY pissed at you for blowing up my weapons!”

“A-And my sniper rifle!” Hayes said, his hands trembling. “You used that thing like a baseball bat!”

“What’s baseball?-”

“A SNIPER IS A LONG RANGED WEAPON, YOU LITTLE-!”

Chloe’s fist slammed the top of Hayes’ head, and putting one hand gently on 916’s head.

“I don’t wanna hear it from the dumbass who thought you could use a sniper rifle within 10 meters of your enemy.”

David simply chuckled watching their banter. He then raised an eyebrow as he looked at the bewildered 916.

“Putting their bitching aside, they got a point, 916. You did technically trash Wolf Company property.”

“Am I expected to pay recompense?”

“As a matter of fact, you are. But, considering our circumstances, I figure I’ll give you a mulligan.”

916 opened his mouth before David cut him off.

“Mulligan is a sport thing. Figure of speech, basically means I’m letting you off the hook.”

916 closed his mouth. Hayes grumbled under his breath while both David and Chloe chuckled, looking at 916.

“Well, I suppose you wanna be getting off at our next stop, 916?” David asked. “I was the one who said you should determine your next course, and not us.”

916 remained silent as he looked at the gray floor, speaking barely above a whisper, so quiet that the APC’s engine almost drowned him out.

“You asked me earlier why I didn’t go with Florence after they saved my friends. They in fact, did not save them in time.”

Everyone sat up on their seats as 916 continued.

“The kids they rescued were part of generation two of the Enhanced Human program. I am generation one, with generation two enhancements. I…am the last GEN-1 alive.”

No one said anything, the three mercenaries exchanging glances.

“Not only would the people despise my continued existence in Florence, there would be nowhere for me to go. My only skills lie in combat, I would either get kidnapped again and used for malicious purposes, or confined to a government building. I am alone.”

David got up from his seat and put an arm on 916’s shoulder.

“You don’t gotta be. If you ask me, you have a place in Wolf Company, 916. You’re just like us. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing in this world, and you wanna find out the reason.”

916’s expression did not change, but David could swear there was a twinkle in his eyes.

“Can’t say that you’ll be danger free with us, or that we’re even a good choice at all. But you got my word, ain’t no one here is gonna take your freedom away.”

“...Then I believe staying with Wolf Company is my best course of action.” 916 nodded confidently.

Chloe cheered loudly as she suddenly wrapped an arm around 916’s neck, catching him by surprise. The Engineer driving joined Chloe in the cheer as Hayes just shrugged.

“ALRIGHT! First step is paying me back for my shotgun and sword you broke!” Chloe said frowning, pointing a finger into his cheek, 916 only blinking in response.

“And my sniper too! Though it’s finally nice not being the rookie now.” Hayes said, putting a finger to his chin as a thoughtful look overcame his annoyance.

“Oh please, the kid’s like what, seven and he knows the basics of combat more than you. You’re still the rookie here.” David said, looking unimpressed at Hayes. “That being said, we can’t just call you 916 the entire time. That’s just depressing.”

“We’re giving him a name, Boss?” The engineer driving asked.

“Yeah, a name, then we make it official to the crew." David leaned back in his seat as he continued to think what was next. "We also gotta make sure we turned off that tracker on his R1-N0 they sniffed us out with, give it paint worthy of Wolf Company, and get us a new job so he can pay back these two crybabies.”

Chloe’s arm did not relinquish 916’s neck as his cheeks squished up against her bicep and chest, pointing an accusing finger at David.

“You can’t call us crybabies, boss! I’ve seen the look in your eyes whenever you pay for the machine gun ammo for the Juggernaut!”

“Which is why I tell you to shut your asses up about your broken toys! That can be replaced for nearly under half the cost of that junk!”

“Then why the hell do you still use it if it’s that expensive?!”

“Because it has a purpose, girl!”

“What, big man likes big guns, is that the dumbass reason?!”

“YOU’RE GOD DAMN RIGHT IT IS!”

“What was the name you were thinking of, boss?” 916 asked, putting an end to the argument before it could escalate.

David and Chloe cleared their throats while Hayes and the engineer just shrugged.

“Well…Can’t be a number, that’s for sure,” David commented, putting his hand under his chin.

Chloe took a closer look at 916’s eyes, noting that even though they were violet, they could change colors based on what she saw earlier today.

“Oh, I got it! Vi!” Chloe said, finally releasing 916’s neck so he could sit properly. He rubbed his neck slightly while she snapped her fingers. “Vi, like violet!”

“Vi? What kind of name is that? Why not something like…uh…” Hayes trailed off. "...Okay, I got nothing."

“Well, what do you think?” David asked, everyone turning expectantly toward 916.

“...Because my eyes are violet. I see the correlation. The name will suffice.”

“HAHA! YES! My ideas are the best, aren’t they?” Chloe shouted excitedly.

“Psh, what a kissass…” Hayes shook his head.

“Hah, Welcome to Wolf Company then, Vi.” David said, extending his hand towards the child.

“Thank you, boss.” Vi replied, with the slightest elevation in his pitch as his tiny hand shook David’s.

…

CHAPTER 1: END

Author's Note:

And so, the adventure truly begins!

Thanks for reading this far and I hope you enjoyed this a bit more than the prologue. Chapter 2 is where imo the story begins to really pick up the pace, and that should hopefully be out in a few days once this post goes live!

I actually Chapters 2-5 already written, but these tumblr posts go through revision from my google docs, and I also don't want to spam you guys when you're mostly here for anime waifu simping.

Relatedly, besides Chloe, there shall be more waifu material joining the fray in Chapter 2! Granted, that's not why they're there since this is an actual story, but ya'll are smart enough to know that.

...I hope.

I think it's really obvious at this point how much the Gundam influence is in this story, but hey, write what you love, right? But on that note, I will make a song recommendation to close this chapter out, because I am apparently incapable of writing anything that doesn't fit thematically with a song from an anime/game.

Orphans’ tears, love bears the burden of sorrow because it can make it stronger You’re on my mind; can you hear the blues that the sky sings?

Ah… The blue light that rises in the dark night hides your loneliness

The only thing that remains after the battle is sorrow What do soldiers see in the fragments of their dreams?

Orphans, now we send a ship called hope out to the sky You’re on my mind; in this instant, the sky sings the blues

#916 #oc story #original story #mecha story #oc scifi story #long post #long chapter

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