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ironlvngs · 10 months

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☆ — TASK 005: THE HART OF THE MATTER

there is absolutely nothing that link wanted to do less in the world right now. in fact, he’d much rather walk right off the edge of a skyscraper than speak to fucking donovan hart on his tv show. but would that really be helping his case ? their initial response to this was going to be fuck no, but if link played this one right, then he might get himself out of that hole that ‘blackmailing his dad’ put him in. so, he walks in, trying to play a part he knows so well — shoving all of his distaste and distrust for the person in front of him behind a mask; a smile and and a good attitude !

“ it’s a pleasure to meet you, dr. hart. your reputation precedes you. ” link keeps up with a smile as he continues to kiss ass. as much as he would like to fantasize about hitting him and every other rich ‘donator’ of this school over the head with a brick, it would be pretty good to win over a powerful man like that with a little bit of charm and a lot of ego-boosting. they exchange niceties and agonizing small talk, and finally, they begin with the questions.

“it’s a tough year to be a student at ogden college with the tragic passing of penelope klein. and of course, we can’t forget the ongoing missing persons case surrounding beloved student, greer morrison. i know that dean zuko insisted on free on-campus counseling set up for all students. have you made use of it?”

maybe this was going to be one of the tougher times for link, to keep the mask on and in tact. it was taking a lot of willpower to not answer the way he really wanted to answer. “ to be honest, dr. hart, i’ve tried but... it hasn’t always been easy for me to talk about these things. just — how i feel in general. ” which was the truth. except here, link would spin it in a better light. “ i don’t think i’ve ever been through losing people dear to me like this before. ” they have. in many ways. “ — so, i’m still just trying to take it step by step. ”

“there was that nasty storm that knocked out the power at the resort, i remember. that got a little dicey, huh? parents and staff all congregated in the faculty chalet, but you kids were on the other side of the resort. we’ve been told that penelope organized some things for people to complete to make it through that night together. were you one of them? what did you get up to during the blackout?”

the moment that donavan said that the staff and parents had all been gathered in the faculty chalet, link was trying so hard to keep up the expression on his facial features. either donavan was a filthy fucking liar, or mari and link got something wrong — and link was willing to bet that the former was much more likely. “ yes, actually, penelope had sent me and another student — ” keeping her name out of it, just in case, “ — to go to the faculty chalet for some kind of contact but evidently, we never really made it there. the storm was too harsh, we had a bad feeling about being away from the group and so we just... turned back. ” link says with a shrug, going along perfectly with whatever lie hart was trying to set up. and now more than ever, link was curious to know where the fuck they were during that night.

“in the wake of tragedy, it can be hard to recall things in detail. the brain has its own ways of protecting itself in high-stress situations, and i know that the police have been a near-constant presence on campus this year. this is not that; i want you to feel safe and comfortable enough to share whatever you want about that night. did you see anything? hear anything?”

bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. “ — i don’t know about safe and comfortable when it comes to an audience. ” his mask was slipping, but link lets out a small laugh and smiles his best fucking smile to play it off as a joke, and adjusts himself in the chair, yelling at himself to pull it together. “ but like i said, we had a bad feeling and decided to just go back and stick with the group. we didn’t see anything. ” that much was true, but the concerning part is the fact that they didn’t find anything or anyone in that chalet.

“obviously, we all want to get to the bottom of this and work through whatever lingering effects it might have left behind. if you were paired off with anyone that night, can you remember what they were doing? would it have been possible that they might have been behind anything you saw?”

what kind of questions were these ? it was starting to feel like it was another police interrogation. only this time, there was a camera and an audience involved. how the hell was this supposed to make anyone feel safe and comfortable ? “ like i said, nothing out of the ordinary. ” he smiles again, this time fantasizing about coming straight for him and singeing off his hairline with his lighter. people like donavan hart were a disease in this world — did we not learn from dr. phil ??

“now, if you’ll direct your attention to this screen here, I have something that— barring appropriate authorities— no one has seen until now.” a picture of greer suddenly appears on screen, all eyes trained on this new piece of information. all eyes but donovan’s which are locked onto the face of the person he’s interviewing, watching for any and every reaction. “this photo is shocking, i know. it was found in the faculty chalet the night of the blackout. do you know anything about the day it was taken or who might have taken it?”

link turns to the screen, and their heart almost felt like stopped for a moment, falling straight into their stomach. it was seeing pictures of greer, or videos — it still pulled at a tangled knot in his stomach that formed since her disappearance. but to see the crossed out face was another thing, only confirming the growing suspicions that there was real malice in this case. link’s wishful theory of her running off somewhere and leaving them all behind was becoming miniscule, and he was running out of threads to hold onto. “ — what the fuck is this ? ” link’s eyes were first glued to the screen, and then back to donovan. “ so you think it’s a great idea to use it for shock value on your fucking show ? ” to be honest, since the whole blackmail thing came to light, link was still fighting to keep themself together. so much for painting himself in a better light — though, he wasn’t sure if this would make the edited cut. they clear their throat, and look down to their feet. there was still a chance to salvage this, though. “ i’m — i apologize, i just... no, i have no idea. you don’t think the police would have heard by now if i did ? ” his eyes go back to that photo for a moment, feeling a bit of ache. there was a bit of an uncomfortable pause, before donovan went on.

“do you have any idea why this photo might have been left with faculty that night? or, most pressing, what reason someone could have for vandalizing it in such a horrible way?”

“ i’m guessing you might have better luck questioning the staff and faculty about why it was in their chalet, not us. ” he does throw a little bit of venom in his tone, but link couldn’t help it anymore. it was rare, almost never at all, to see link unravel and lose it just a little bit like this. throughout this whole academic year, the stress that he’s been feeling felt similar to everything his younger self had to go through, and facing that feeling always left him in a dark place.

"finally, it's been discovered that penelope, shortly before her untimely death, had mentioned to someone that she knew why greer had left. do you think that has anything to do with this photo? do you know why she might have left? even though being honest about it may seem scary, i promise you, it's the right thing to do. it's the only way we can protect you."

for someone who tried to separate himself from the cops, he definitely knows how to talk out of his ass like one. link knew that there would be no protection for the people like him — the ones that don’t have powerful families or legacies to back them up here. so he takes a deep breath, and remembers why he agreed to do this in the first place, which was to get himself out of deep shit. “ — dr. hart, like many of the students, faculty, and her friends and family, all i want is to see greer back with us. everything i know, i already told the cops about. ” hopefully, he was still in their good graces. “ — maybe penelope knew something that we didn’t, and maybe she paid the price for it. but if there is something to know, i don’t doubt that authorities will get to the bottom of it eventually. i believe we’ll find out soon, where greer is. ” he wasn’t sure if he truly believed that last bit, or if he was just trying to lie to himself, like he was lying to everyone else who would hear him say it.

donovan went on with a few closing remarks, but link had tuned him out, diving deep into their own head as they thought about that photo, about penelope, and most of all, the lie with the faculty chalet. fuck, he really needed to reach mari. donovan thanks link for their time, and link gets out as soon as they could, reaching for their phone and sending a text out to mari.

#ogdentask #teehee #this is kinda shitty #it's almost 12 am im sorry <3

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metabolizemotions · 2 years

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3 x 06: Book Club

The reunions. Passing of batons. Coming full circle. Hitting all the right emotional notes.

I think the show does its best when it’s character-driven. (I love the cast. Such great chemistry. I already miss them arrrgh.)

I love that it’s motherly love manifesting in different ways.

The Mother, literally - the protective yet unfathomable sentience

Alder & her army - She’s not without faults, but she shouldered the burdens of the lives and deaths of her witches for centuries

Petra & Abigail - Petra learning to see Abigail for who she is, not just as her successor or a Bellweather. Also, learning to love who Abigail loves.

May & Tally - each wanting to care for the other the best way she knows how and the cathartic plate-smashing & heart-to-heart talk.

Willa & Raelle - Willa protecting Raelle in any way possible, dying for her and even transcending death

Izadora & Penelope - the eccentric, obsessive necro teacher and her mysterious-shapeshifter-charge

Alder & Izadora - Alder reassuring Izadora when she wants to follow her leader/ mother figure into her beloved mycelium. The request is somehow so Izadora. “Apparently, death isn’t what it used to be.” 🤣 the scientist in Izadora taking in weird phenomena like a champ, esp. after Penelope.

Honorable mentions: Quinn & Scylla and Edwin & Scylla - the found family

I love the emotional reunion of Willa with her family

Edwin. Oh my heart. Him breaking down. His quiet understanding. No blaming. Only wanting to see her again. Always internalizing his grief and worries for his wife and daughter. Silently supporting them.

Quinn. Willa responding to her old comrade-in-arms and dear friend

Scylla. United by their shared mission and love for Raelle. Scylla’s deep yearning to be with Raelle, no matter how.

I love the passing of batons and the next generation now taking over as protectors

Alder boosting the cadets’ morale, truly passing the baton to Petra - this time with real mutual understanding and respect, setting aside their personal differences and egos - each has her role in the war

Scylla taking Edwin home to safety (their conversations 🥺 )

Tally returning home to take care of her mum (Tally: book club?! 😳)

Abigail and Adil chaperoning the weakened Alder back to Fort Salem (Abigail: this is no longer a witches' place 😭)

I love the quiet strength and defiance of May & her friends - and their clandestine meeting with all the requisite bells and whistles

Strategically obeying the pompous guard to avoid trouble and attention while secretly plotting a mission - also a subversive twist on Silver’s words about the collars - the witches giving the guards a false sense of control of the situation

Such image of “just moms in the suburbs, holding book club meetings and serving brownies in tupperwares” - usually what men would use derogatorily on women, is now fully owned by said women, who turned it into a perfect cover for their badass mission

Offer some brownies and burn down some buildings like it’s just a normal day for them

The bigoted and misogynistic guards still don’t know what hit them. I imagine the witches giggling in secret.

I love Petra letting the obnoxious man yak away, thinking he has power over her (in keeping with the “book club” theme)

meanwhile she basically tells them secretly on their Witch FM: girls, listen to me and ignore his BS

#motherland fort salem #the pace would probably pick up cos raelle is coming back right?#I wonder what the original storyline was #comments

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something-fanfiction-ie · 4 years

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The Years

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: *SMUT* So you embarrass yourself in front of Derek and Spencer, the details of the case are mentioned and are a little intense, and smut. Like, rough, Spencer smut because there is nothing you can say that could convince me that Spencer Reid is a bottom. And swearing.

A/N: AH THE ENDING PROBABLY SUCKS BUT I TRIED REALLY HARD I PROMISE. Also, this is ridiculously long and not all of it is smut. For a hot second this WAS an OC story but I thought you guys would enjoy a self-insert more so I changed it. LOTS AND LOTS OF THANKS TO MY FAV FIC WRITER AND NEW TUMBLR FRIENDS, @reidmorefanfics and @pomsephone Y’all are the best. Also, remember to shower me in reblogs, comments, asks, messages, likes, and anything else you can think of to boost my ego. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!!!

___

“Actually, that reminds me of a joke that I know.” At the front of the crowded lecture hall, a young Dr. Spencer Reid looks over at his partner eagerly, a smile already splitting his lips apart. Derek Morgan, however, looks over at his partner with a mixture of fear and secondhand embarrassment.

“Reid, I don’t think-” Morgan tries to save him, he really does, but Reid tucks his hair behind his ears and ignores him by starting the joke.

“Einstein, Heisenberg, Newton, and Pascal are playing hide and seek. Einstein covers his eyes and begins counting. While Heisenberg and Pascal run off and hide, Newton takes out some chalk and marks a square on the ground with a side length of exactly 1 meter, then sits down inside the square. When Einstein is finished counting and sees Newton sitting on the ground, he yells, "Ha, I've found you, Newton!". Newton however replies, "No you haven't! You've found Pascal!’”

A short, surprised laugh joins Spencer’s small chuckles, dragging his eyes to the location the sound had come from. Derek looks too, completely taken aback that anyone other than Reid had actually understood the joke. Yet, lo and behold, a young girl sitting in the front row with her cheeks stoplight red and her hand nervously covering her mouth.

Proudly, Spencer nods for Morgan to end the talk, his chest a little puffed out and a smug smile twitching at his lips. They wrap things up quickly, eager to grab some food after leaving campus and before heading back to the BAU.

When Spencer turns to gather his things, grabbing his bag, he notices the soft shuffle of feet against the hardwood flooring of the stage. A pair of black converse peek into his peripheral vision, attached to a pair of long legs that make Spencer blush for noticing at all. Lifting his eyes further, he meets the shy gaze of the only person who had laughed at his joke. It came as no surprise when he sees that your tee shirt had a picture of a cat with the words ‘Wanted: Dead and Alive’ in block lettering.

“Dr. Reid,” Your left hand comes up to push a stray lock of hair away from your face, a single gold band wrapped around your left index finger, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I just, uhm, I had a couple questions?”

Looping the strap of his bag over his head and letting the familiar weight of it settle against his hip before he responds, Spencer ignores the way Derek looks at him by pretending he isn’t there at all.

“Of course,” Spencer meets your eyes, which are a beautiful shade of (y/e/c). “I like the shirt by the way. I’m not usually much of a t-shirt person, but I might wear one like that.” You laugh, shifting on your feet and twisting the ring on your finger.

“Thank you, I got it as a Christmas present. Along with ten billion other nerdy t-shirts. But uhm, I was curious how old you were when you joined the FBI?” Morgan holds his tongue, pretending to shuffle papers around and not pay attention to the poor girl’s crush.

“I was twenty-two. I finished two of my doctorates the year prior.”

“I thought you had to be twenty-three? I’ve always wanted to join the FBI as soon as I could but I thought I had a little more time. That’s what I read anyways. I could be wrong, you would know more than I do.” You looked down at your shoes, kicking the toe of one converse into the wood, your hair falling forward over your shoulders.

“No, you’re right. I had an age waiver. You’re eighteen? Nineteen? You’ve still got some time to prepare.”

“I’m seventeen, actually.” Your lips skewed to the side, the confession barely above a whisper as you continued to stare at your feet. Spencer blanched, unable to contain his surprise. He was quick to school his features, though, when you finally looked back at him.

“You’re seventeen and you understood his joke?” Morgan couldn’t help but cut in now, stepping away from the table he’d been pushing papers around on and toward the two younger people left in the room.

“A pascal is a unit of measurement equal to one Newton per square meter. By sitting in a square meter, Newton was being one newton per square meter. Which is, again, equal to a pascal. So he was Pascal.” A smile had worked it’s way past the nerves that jumped around your body. You weren’t very used to talking to young, attractive, intelligent doctors who worked for the FBI.

“Although, even if I hadn’t understood the science behind the joke I might have still laughed. You see, there is this thing called the Halo Effect, which is basically a cognitive bias you might develop based on your initial impression of someone that can change how you feel about their specific traits. Essentially, one example would be that someone you find attractive may seem funnier or more intelligent simply because you find them attractive.”

It takes all of a second for your face to turn beat red as you realizes your nervous ramblings have made you reveal the silly crush you had started to develop on the young doctor. Derek’s lips purse in amusement when he sees the similar shade of red that has colored his partner’s cheeks.

“Not that I’m saying I find you attractive,” Your heart stops cold in your chest and you are quick to retract the statement. “Not to say you’re ugly either, because that’s not what I’m trying to say at all. Just that my first impression of you as a nice and attr- I mean, intelligent man could have very well made my amusement slightly biased because I was more willing to like you based solely on my first impression of you. Which was that you are very nice and, and intelligent.”

It takes all the willpower in the world for you not to throw yourself down the stairwell later that day, the embarrassment having barely faded even hours later. The two men had been quick to assure you they knew you weren’t saying you had a crush on Dr. Reid, but they were obviously just trying to protect your feelings. They wouldn’t be FBI Profilers if they couldn’t tell you had a crush on him. The conversation was pretty much over after that, you being suddenly desperate to make an escape and Dr. Reid just as eager to leave the campus grounds.

The whole team teased him about his teenage fan for months after it happened, Derek had been quick to let everyone know when they came back. Reid had tried to hide from them by scrunching down into his seat and covering his face with a book, but it hadn’t helped him at all.

Eventually though, both you and Spencer were able to move on from the embarrassing moment, though neither of you forgot it. Those moments where you’re all alone and the most embarrassing moments of your life come to creep up and embarrass you all over again? The memory always came back during those moments.

The team, however, seemed to forget about it, Gideon and Elle leaving and Rossi and Prentiss replacing them as the years faded the memory for them.

It wasn’t until JJ took her new position at the Pentagon and Ashley left after her brief consultation on the case in New Mexico that the memory came back to truly haunt you both.

The whole team had heard whispers of a ‘probationary agent’ that would be stepping in to assist wherever needed. Hotch was good at keeping quiet and avoiding questions on the matter, somehow keeping Penelope just as much out of the loop as the rest of the team.

No one was even sure when the new agent was supposed to be coming until the glass doors to the BAU opened and in stepped a young woman with (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes. Derek squinted his eyes, your face tickling the back of his memory in a way that annoyed him. Spencer tensed, his eidetic memory quick to remind him of the seventeen year old girl that had basically confessed she thought he was cute, and then called him ‘not ugly’ to try and cover her tracks.

“Agent (Y/L/N), nice to finally meet you.” Hotch said, holding the door open as you nodded your thanks and slipped inside his office with a box in your arms.

“That must be the probationary agent.” Prentiss directed the comment at Reid, oblivious to the resurfaced embarrassment that boiled his cheeks to that same shade of red he’d been in that lecture hall seven years ago. He kept his book up in front of his face while he tried to cool his cheeks, looking over the top of the binding and into Hotch’s window.

You’re sitting ram-rod straight in the seat in front of Hotch’s desk that is closest to the door, your box of things clutched tightly in your white-knuckled hands. Your hair is still the same length, swaying at your shoulders. You’ve switched the Schrödinger’s cat shirt for a deep velvet red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled at your elbows.

But even with the obvious nerves displayed in your current body language, it’s easy to see you aren’t the same stuttering seventeen year old Reid remembers. You holds steady eye contact with Hotch, nodding and fluidly responding in such a way that the usually stoic unit chief actually breaks into a grin that dimples his cheeks. When he stretches over his desk for a handshake, your left hand comes up and grips Hotch’s firmly.

“I’m glad it’s a girl, it was starting to feel a little too testosteronie around here with JJ gone.” Garcia had made her way into the bullpen, a cup of tea balanced in her bejeweled fingers as she, and the rest of the team, size up the girl heading for Hotch’s door.

“I don’t think ‘testosteronie’ is a word, baby girl.” Derek teases, trying to ignore the nagging feelings that he knows this girl from somewhere. Maybe they’d met on a case? But no, that doesn’t feel right.

“It is now, Derek. Don’t argue with me or I’ll have to punish you.” She brings the lip of her cup up, sipping at the lukewarm tea still inside and patting Morgan’s cheek with her free hand. Hotch’s door finally opens again and you step out after Aaron.

A hush falls over the room, all eyes trained to the newest and now youngest member of the team.

“We’ll do introductions on the plane, for now I need everyone in the conference room for a case.” Hotch is quick to make eye contact with everyone, his gaze stern and demanding.

Spencer is the last one into the room, practically dragging his feet to one of the chairs around the circle table. Thankfully, you were sitting across the table. Somehow you haven’t seemed to notice him.

“Yesterday Dawes County police found the body of Julia Hastings along a hiking trail in Kladon. This is the second body they have found in the area in two weeks, the first belonging to Heather Greenaway. Both victims are in their early to mid twenties. Hands and feet bound, buried face down. Each victim was struck once in the back of the head, making cause of death blunt force trauma.”

From your spot at the table, you glance up with narrowed eyes as you open the file you’d been given at the beginning of the meeting.

“Where did they disappear from?” Reid asks, a connection forming in his brain as each picture and detail flies up from Garcia’s tablet and onto the projected pictures before them.

“Night clubs around the area, they were working on the night they each went missing. Both girls were bartenders, had been working at their new jobs a week before they were kidnapped.”

“Justin Millers had the same M.O., kidnapping new female bartenders fitting this exact victimology and holding them hostage for a course of five days, beating and raping them before eventually hitting them on the back of the head with a tire iron.” You don’t look up from the file as you speak, flipping through the pictures and quickly noticing the small odd similarities in the victims between this case and Millers’ case.

“Millers has been locked away for a year and a half.” Derek pointed out, using the opportunity to stare at the face of the girl he was sure he knew but still couldn’t place. When you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed in a way that reminds him of Reid and your head tilted just a little to the side, he can feel his brain grab onto the memory just before it slips back through his fingers.

“I’d guess a copycat. Something seems different, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Your gaze slides over the table, looking at faces to get a gauge of their opinions on you. When you make eye contact with Reid, your eyes widen just a little before you duck your head. You should have known he was still here at the BAU, you’d only hoped he’d went to another unit out of desperation for this job.

“We’ll look into that theory, for now I just want a profile as if this unsub is working from his own killing preferences. We’ll discuss more on the way there. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch stands, flipping the cover over the top of his iPad before making his way out of the room. Go bags are grabbed, certain persons avoid bumping into other certain persons, and then the eight hour plane ride to Kladon, Nebraska begins.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Emily tests the name on her lips, having chosen to move by the younger girl after the fourty five minute theory discussion that started the plane ride.

“You can call me (Y/N/N), that’s what my best friend calls me.” You had popped the first two buttons open of your dress shirt and slipped your shoes off to tuck your feet underneath you. Tucked between your thigh and the arm of the seat is a book with a Greek title, in your hands is the open case file.

“Just your best friend?” Rossi asks from across the way, just as curious about the new girl as the rest of them, but a little better at hiding it.

“She’s really my only friend.” You shrug, but not in such a way that you seem bothered by the fact. You reach up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. Reid notices the gold ring that still circles your left index finger, light coming from the window glinting off the metal when you move. It’s the only jewelry you wears.

“A bit of a loner?” Derek joins the conversation, moving up the aisle of the jet with a cup of something hot cradled in his hands. He takes the seat directly in front of you, blowing at the liquid in his cup.

“I was more focused on getting through school than making friends. Emma just happened to be the only person who wouldn’t let me shake her.” There’s a smile on your lips as you talk about your best friend, your eyes soft.

“What did you go to college for?” Derek is fishing, looking for something to tell him where he knows you from. It amuses Reid, who has sequestered himself into a corner a little further away from you than everyone else.

“I have a masters in philosophy, with a focus in Ancient Greek philosophy. I have a bachelor’s in Greek, which is the only other living language I can speak and read outside of English, and I have two doctorates; one in Classic Studies and one in Criminology.” Rossi whistles, shaking his head and leaning back into his seat to express what everyone else is feeling.

“You young people just keep getting smarter and smarter. You know how many doctorates I had at your age? None. You know how many I have now?” You look at him with genuine curiosity, drinking in all the information you can about the people around you like it was a class you were taking to survive.

“None.” The laugh that bubbles from your lips is infectious and carefree, it pulls Reid’s attention away from his book and it drags Hotch from the constant state of worry that he mentally paces in. Emily, Derek, and Rossi all exchange looks before their own laughter fills the air. It’s nice.

The feeling reminds you of that scene in Mary Poppins where Dick Van Dyke and Ed Wynn laugh themselves into the ceiling. So light and carefree that it could lift them into the sky.

“Why all the attention on the Greek?” Prentiss manages when the laughter subsides, reaching down for the book the young doctor has tucked away. Η φόνισσα, it reads with a black and white picture of arms twisted to the side of the bookcover. You make no move to grab for it, letting the other woman flip through the pages.

“My father was a Greek Philosophy professor before he died, I suppose it’s my way of trying to stay close to him.” Prentiss looks up from the pages, a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“And your mother?” The change in your entire demeanor is like cold water on the conversation, freezing the group in their spots. You reach for the book, tucking it back into the space between your thigh and the seat.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only blatant lie you’ve told since they started talking to you, averting your eyes and shifting in your seat. No one presses the topic, giving the new girl the space you need.

You take the case file with you when you go to make a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette situated in the back of the plane. Reid is already back there, pouring a steady stream of sugar into the otherwise black liquid.

“Dr. Reid.” You nod your head in greeting, avoiding his eyes by setting your folder on the counter and pretending to read it. You’ve been going over every detail of the case for so long that you’ve memorized everything there is to know. There are notes and theories scribbled into the margins and little sticky notes with questions scattered around the papers.

“It helps to step away for a little bit, that way when we land you come back to it with fresh eyes.” The utensils drawer clicks shut as Reid grabs a spoon to stir his coffee, risking the chance to finally look at you.

You’re twisting the ring on your finger and chewing the inside of your cheek. Without your shoes on, the top of your head comes to his shoulders.

When you look up at him, (y/e/c) eyes thoughtful and just as curious as the day they met, Reid can’t fight the urge that draws his gaze to your lips. The skin there is so very soft looking, surprising him when the thought of kissing them hits him like a train.

He clears his throat, focusing all of his attention on the coffee cup in front of him. The sugar is completely stirred in at this point, but he kind of wants to stay in the hopes that you’ll strike up a conversation.

“But everyone is different so you don’t have to listen to me, just do whatever helps you.” His shoulders lift in a shrug and he’s glad that nobody is there to see him interact with this girl. They would know how he felt before he could even come to terms with it himself.

As quickly as you are there, you leave. Completely flustered and unsure how to go about navigating a relationship that’s foundation was an unintentional love confession. Maybe, you thought as you leaned into your seat and closed your eyes, if I just ignore him then everything will be fine.

By the time the jet touched down in Nebraska, you had fallen into a dead sleep with your book sitting open in your lap. Emily was the one to reach out and gently shake your shoulder, the smile on her face gentle and motherly. Still blinking away sleep, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and book before rushing for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, the shoe laces on one of your shoes hadn’t been completely tied. Add that to the speed in which you were trying to separate yourself from Reid, and you managed to trip over your feet and right into the person you were trying to avoid.

Your bag hit the ground, the book following suit as a warm hand grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled. When you collided with someone’s chest, you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Reid smelled like old books, laundry detergent, and cinnamon.

“Your shoe is untied.” He said, his voice rumbling in his chest. You didn’t look up, afraid the heat in your cheeks would give you away. You looked down instead, noticing the way your feet were inside the breadth of his stance. One shoe’s laces laid precariously around your foot as if mocking you. Quickly, you took a step away and almost tripped again on your bag. You caught yourself on one of the seats, holding a hand out to keep Reid from grabbing you again.

“Thank you, I’m okay. Really.” You didn’t meet his eyes, every lewd thought you’d had during that stupid lecture about his lips and hands and hair came rushing back at you with every glance. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could see each fantasy written on your face like a lusty, ten-cent romance novel.

Morgan, having stopped to watch the two doctors in your clearly flustered states, suddenly felt it click in his brain. Sure, you were older and not as squirrelly as he remembered, but the way you were looking at his partner was nearly the exact same as you had seven years ago.

Feeling smug for finally figuring it out, he walked up to Spencer with his bag thrown over his shoulder, stopping beside him as they both watched you rush for the exit.

“Can you imagine someone having a crush on you for seven years? Oh, wait.” Bending down to grab his bag, Spencer shook his head in such a way that a few loose curls tangled on his eyelashes. A simple sweep of his hand across his face helped to push it away.

“It took you long enough to figure it out.” Spencer took the lead, dreading the car ride with Derek to the medical examiners. He had been hoping his older partner wouldn’t remember who you were, at least, until the case was solved.

“Oh ho ho, don’t think you can avoid this conversation with insults, pretty boy.” Morgan was hot on his tail, and that was exactly where he stayed for the next three days that the team was in Nebraska.

The killer was, in fact, a massive fan of the infamous Justin Millers. It was just a matter of pinpointing which of the crazy fanatics he was, which might have been easier if the local populace was more open to talking to law enforcement.

It was by a brilliant stroke of luck, or rather misfortune, that the team realized sending you undercover would help on many different levels. Not only did you fit the victimology, (all they needed to do was get you a ‘job’ at one of the local bars) but you would also be able to get information from the civilians that were unwilling to talk to the FBI.

Four days into your undercover mission, you found yourself wiping down the counter after closing. The band was packing up their equipment on stage and your boss had already left. Laily, the only other bartender here tonight, was flirting with the drummer while you closed things up behind the counter.

As was customary, the members of your team had taken turns following you around everyday just in case anything happened. Today just so happened to be Spencer’s turn, you’d managed to slip him into the back room before all the customers had left for the night. It was the only reason you gave Laily the okay when she asked if you would be cool closing by yourself tonight.

“I can’t believe after five years of college, I’m back to bartending.” You grumbled, shouldering the backroom door open with a box full of beer in your hands. Spencer jumped up from the crate he’d been leaning against, holding the back of the door open so you could get in a little easier.

“You were a bartender before?” He asked curiously, trying to ignore the way the low-cut black uniform shirt you were wearing fit against your figure and twisted his insides. Factor in the tight jeans that hung on your hips and the sheen of sweat on your skin from the hot summer night and he could barely focus, let alone protect you from any possible threats.

“The years between my college graduation and my joining the FBI, yeah. I could have done something different, I guess, but I wanted to have a normal young adult job before I spent the rest of my life chasing serial killers and such.” You turned to face him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time this week.

Unlike you, he was wearing his FBI Kevlar. The navy blue tie that he wore was tucked into the top of it, the baby blue sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up around his elbows. You, yourself, were having an awful time trying to keep from getting all kinds of flustered just looking at him.

The young profiler you remember was all wiry and clean cut, the man in front of you is more scraggly. His hair curls around his jawline and his forearms are far more attractive than anybody’s forearms ought to be.

His parents were just showing off, casually bringing a child into the world that looks like that.

“I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He blurted, surprising himself. You could tell by the way his brows dipped down and he took a step back immediately after saying it. Even his cheeks were a little pink.

“What happened between us was like seven years ago and all you did was tell me you had a crush on me. And then take it back. I just don’t want it to affect our work relationship because everyone already likes you a lot and I want to get the chance to like you as well.” For someone who always seems so very shy and awkward, his eyes look directly into yours, narrowing just a little. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and turns all of your bones to jelly underneath you.

He just ages like fine wine and you know that, should you be offered a permanent position at the BAU, that you would have to spend the rest of your working days keeping yourself in check while the man in front of you continued to evolve into a more gorgeous version of himself every year. The Spencer you remember had felt like peak Spencer, now this Spencer felt like peak Spencer, but who is to say that five years from now, when he decides to grow a little stubble and style his hair differently, that he wouldn’t somehow get even more attractive?

You open your mouth to come up with some bullshit answer that you didn’t really mean in order to smooth things over, when the door opens again. Spencer, standing directly infront of said door, looks not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a truck barreling right at him going way too fast on a backroad.

Time crawls at an unusual pace, the door slowly creaking open and Laily’s voice filtering in the opening. Why did he have to wear that stupid vest? Surely the FBI has bullet proof vests you could wear under your clothing. The only idea you could come up with was, honestly, not a very good one. But it was the only one you had.

Practically launching yourself across the room, you catch Spencer’s lips against your own like the world depends on it. Using your own hands, you position Spencer’s arms around you with one hand on the back of your head and the other grabbing underneath your leg that hooks around his waist. The vest uncomfortably digs into your chest with how close your bodies are against one another, your arms now thrown around his neck, but if he keeps kissing you like this then you’ll be inclined to ignore it.

Just seconds ago he had been begging you to have a normal relationship despite your silly ‘past’ crush, now his tongue was fighting for dominance in your mouth. The irony was not lost on you.

“Oh.” Laily gasps a little when she sees you in such a compromising position. The lights from the bar illuminating every detail so that she could see the way Spencer’s fingers desperately tangled in the strands of your hair or how the muscles in his forearm strained as he hungrily pulled your body even closer than before.

The blush on your cheeks and neck are real when you pull your lips away, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach when Spencer catches your bottom lip in between his teeth for just a second. The look in his eyes is devilish when you tilt your head over your shoulder to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry Laily, this is my boyfriend, Lance. I just- I heard about all those girls that have been going missing and I asked if he would drive me home.” The look in your coworkers eyes is all you need to know that this does not look like just a ride home. Although, it very well could have led to a ride somewhere if she had been just a handful of minutes slower.

“Nice to meet you, Lance. Gwen, I’ll see you tomorrow. Just,” the mischievous twinkle in her eyes does not go unnoticed by the two doctors in the room still tangled around each other, “maybe clock out before things get anymore heated.” She teases, the tone of her voice suggesting that you will be hearing more of this tomorrow.

“Bye, Laily!” The door clicks shut behind her, followed by the chuckles and giggles of Laily and the band as they leave for the night. You relax into Spencer’s arms, moving as if to pull out of them before they tense around you.

“We should be safe now.” You whisper, looking up into his eyes that burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in them before. That damn tongue sweeps across those perfect lips again, drawing your attention and reminding you that you now know what they feel like locked with yours.

“I think I hear somebody coming.” He whispers back, aware that you can both hear the soft bang of the front door closing and locking shut from the outside. Since the killings, the door was always locked if employees were still inside, as a safety precaution. Nobody else was coming in tonight unless they had a key.

Your lips meet his anyways, too tired to pretend that the heat between you wasn’t there. If this was the excuse he needed to kiss you, then you were all the more willing to give it to him. His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, causing them to open against his mouth and deepen the kiss.

Both of his wide hands splay against your hips, curling into the soft skin there and pulling you toward him with such force that you nearly trip. The hard edges of his Kevlar vest dig into your ribs and collarbone, the rough material scratching against your exposed skin as you push yourself up on your toes. When he breaks from the kiss, both of you gasping for air not from the length of it by from the passion, it is not to end your tryst.

His lips find the pulse at your neck, sucking a bruise at the soft skin there and pulling a moan from deep within your chest.

“Won’t- Won’t Morgan and Prentiss get worried,” your brain feels like the motherboard of a computer that Spencer has taken into his hands and slammed into a countertop, you can’t think when his teeth nip a love bite to the hickey he’s made on your neck, “if we, uhm, we take too long?”

If you thought the Spencer you met seven years ago was different from the Spencer you knew now, it was only because you’d never seen his bright hazel brown eyes darken with lust from beneath those impossibly long golden lashes. He was a completely different person as he unstrapped himself from the Kevlar, laying it on the floor with a solid thunk before gathering you back into his arms.

“They’ll be okay,” He said in between kisses trailed along your jawline. His movements are confident as he dips a hand down the front of your jeans and into your underwear. Your arms tighten around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck when his fingers find the already wet entrance to your sex. His answering growl does nothing to keep you from coming undone as he presses the pad of his thumb to the bundle of nerves there. “I’m guessing it won’t be long before I have you in the palm of my hands, anyways.”

You rock your hips into him, your eyes fluttering shut with a gasp when he thrusts two long fingers inside of you. His other arm is wrapped around the center of your back, holding you to him because lord knows you can’t be trusted on your own two feet at a moment like this.

“Is this why you planned on ignoring me? Because you wouldn’t be able to handle it if I didn’t give you this?” You whimper a response, too focused on the relentless pace he has set with his fingers to come up with anything coherent. Everything about the moment is raw and animalistic, every fantasy you’d had about him during the fifty minute lecture did not even begin to touch on the feeling of his hand actually inside of you.

“Spencer, please.” You whined, dropping your arms from his shoulders and gripping onto his biceps like it will keep your soul from leaving your body. Yet, as heavenly as this felt, and as much as it exceeded your fantasies, you wanted more. Every part of you craved the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, sticky with sweat and feverish to the touch.

On a tight time constraint, Spencer doesn’t make you beg anymore than that. Instead, he delights in the way you cry out when he pulls his hand out of your pants and up to his lips. Your own lips part with a tiny popping sound when you watch him put those same fingers into his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Strip.” He commands, licking the taste of you off his lips and leisurely working at the knot of his tie. You don’t waste a second in crossing your arms over your body to pull the black material over your head and drop it at your feet. Next to come off is your shoes, clattering across the wooden floor when you kick them to the side.

By the time you make it to your pants, Spencer has only undone a quarter of the navy blue buttons on his shirt.

“I need you now, Spencer.” The buttons slip through your fingers, your hands shaking with excitement more than nerves. Although, the nerves are definitely apart of it. Never in a million years did you think you would be here; in the backroom of a bar in Nebraska, with Spencer Reid doing salacious things to you. While on your first case with the BAU, nontheless.

Doing a complete one-eighty, his hands come up to cover your own just before the last button comes undone. His touch is gentle and prompts you to look up into his coffee colored eyes. The light from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling is no good, and yet somehow he manages to look like a piece of artwork painted by the most skilled hand known to mankind.

“We don’t have to do this here. We don’t have to do this at all, if you don’t want to.” You squint your eyes up at him, using your fingernail to pop the last button through the hole on the other side of the shirt. When you let go, the pieces fall away from his chest like he’s caught in slow motion on a Calvin Klein commercial.

“I said I needed you now, not later.” In response, he scoops you into his arms and wraps your legs around his hips. The electricity that pops and crackles between you is nearly visible in the dimly lit room, the fabric of your bra skimming against his collarbone when you breath.

The little whines and whimpers that fall from your lips are driving Spencer crazy, forcing him to push through the door and lower you to a shorter countertop meant for making drinks. Tonight it would be used for other, more wicked things.

“Someone’s a bit excited.” You breathed. There was no way you could take a full breath in a moment like this. Everything was so heated and yet nothing was really happening.

“Shut the fuck up.” And then he was kissing you, his lips warm against your own. Despite the fact that you didn’t think it was possible, he pulled you closer. You knitted your fingers into his curls and gave them a slight tug. God, you loved these curls.

He began sucking a heated trail down your throat, quite possibly leaving a pathway of hickeys. You would be putting makeup over them for at least thirty minutes before you left your hotel room tomorrow, but for now they were heavenly fire against your skin.

Spencer took away his lips long enough to strip from his remaining clothes and throw them over his shoulder. When he stood in front of you looking like a Roman god, bared to no one but yourself, it made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“I’m so in love with your body.” He groaned just before his lips found your breast, sucking on your nipple. Your head fell back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fumbled for a moment, patting around the countertop before your brain turned on long enough to get your hand between your legs and down to his naked erection.

He moaned into your breast as you began to move your hand. He let go of your boob and went straight back up to your mouth. His whole body was tensed up but his lips were soft as they parted against against your lips. The whole world felt like it was on fire, and his every touch was another lick of flames.

You move your hand faster, enjoying every groan and grunt and moan that finds it’s way out of his mouth and into yours. He’s already close to orgasm, you can tell by the way he breaks from the kiss, your foreheads pressed together and your breath stirring in the small space between your faces. His grip is tight when he grabs your wrist to make you stop.

“No.” Every nerve and thought and feeling was consumed by you and everything else short-circuited. Spencer couldn’t get the words out of his mouth to properly express what he wanted, it wasn’t often that the young genius was rendered speechless.

But you knew, you knew that he wanted to be inside of you. You knew that because you wanted him inside of you just as much, if not more, than he did. You shift your hips around on the counter, getting closer to the edge as you widen your legs.

“I’m on the pill.” You whisper, watching the sudden realization that he hadn’t come prepared widen his eyes for just a small fraction of a second. Just as quickly, the fear turns into that devlish grin you weren’t aware someone so beautifully shy and awkward could possess.

“Thank you, Pincus, Sanger, and McCormick.” You barely have time to question the comment, although later you’ll realize he’s probably talking about three of the minds behind the invention of the birth control pill. No longer taking his time, Spencer positions himself right at your entrance before running the tip of his cock along your wet folds.

“Fuck!” He slams into you, running his entire length into your body, hitting depths you didn’t even realize had never been touched until he was thrusting against them. It sends a wave of pleasure through every cell in your body as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like you’re running out of oxygen.

He holds onto your hips as he repeatedly rams his hips into yours. He has buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting every curse and moan muffle into your skin. The glasses under the counter jangle with every merciless thrust inside you. The sharp bite of his nails digging into your hips makes you hiss, but it’s more from pleasure than pain.

There’s no dirty talking anymore. Every ounce of pretend you both go through while around one another is shed like seconds skins, leaving two people so hungry for each other that it had been too much to bare.

Your fingers are twisted around the short curls at the nape of his neck and your teeth are biting into the solid muscle at his shoulder. The bar always had whiffs of sex and sweat in the air that mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume, but now it was the strongest scent in the room.

Even as your orgasm starts to build in your belly, you want more. You want to hold him so close that your brain wouldn’t be able to distinguish where you ended and he began. Letting go of his shoulder, your head lolls back and your own nails draw long lines of red down his neck.

“Spencer!” His name leaves your lips in a mix of a sob and a moan, the ecstasy of just his touch alone driving you higher and higher. The sting of his nails leave your hips, one hand reaching to the place where your connected and the other coming up to grip your jaw in his hand.

His thumb rubs against the little button of pleasure that causes your legs to start to tingle like they’ve been asleep for too long. All the while, he ruthless pace doesn’t falter. Sweat sticks a few of his curls to his temples, providing a beautiful glowing effect across the smooth planes and angles of his shoulders and collarbones.

He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss that ends much too quickly for your taste, but you can feel the rapid exhalation of his breaths as it fans across your cheek.

“Come.” Usually a man of so many words, you had always assumed it would be the same in his sex life. Maybe it was true in most cases, but right now his desire to see you succumb to the pleasure of him inside of you outweighs the need to taunt and tease you with words.

Meeting his eyes, getting off on the smug look that twists his lips as much as you are getting off on his dick actually inside of you, you let yourself fall into the sweet release of your orgasm. Spencer doesn’t stop as you come around him, instead he quickens the pace as his own release works its way to the edge.

Your legs are still shaking when he buries himself into you with one final thrust, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He chases the sting of his teeth away with the softness of the kiss that follows, loosing himself in the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Neither of you move, although he ends the kiss to gasp for air with your foreheads once again pressed against each other. His eyes are closed, the dark pink on his cheeks and neck making him look so much younger than he was. You keep your eyes open, trying to drink in every second and commit it to your memory the way it would forever be in his.

When he steps away, leaving you feeling much more empty than you’d felt in a really long time, the cocktail of your orgasms spill down the inside of your thighs. Suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, you slip off the counter with your arm wrapped around your bared breasts.

The air seems too cold, the bar too quiet, and your mind was too loud with insecurities as you tried to steady yourself on wobbly knees. Nevertheless, you attempt to make a beeline for the backroom door. If you go and put your clothes back on then maybe you could go back to pretending like he doesn’t exist and everything will be fine.

That is until one of those solidly handsome arms come out to stop you in your pursuit of denial.

He’s still naked, standing next to you like a statue carved by the hands of Michaelangelo himself. Although, you aren’t sure the renissance artist would sculpt nail marks into his skin, the signs of your heated escapade only darkening with time. You can only imagine what your own neck looks like, several spots of sensitive skin still overly stimulated from his wandering mouth.

From your vantage point, you can see his swollen lips open to say something, probably that this had been a mistake, when his phone rings from the pair of pants he’d so carelessly thrown to the floor earlier. A small frown mars his angelic features, the side of his mouth twitching with aggravation.

His lips on yours are a surprise you weren’t expecting, despite the sexual encounter you’d just had. This kiss speaks more words than he could ever possibly say, easing all the post-coital dysphoria that comes with the sudden fall from the high you’d been on. It’s gentle and warm, the hand on your arm squeezes reassuredly before he breaks away with one last peck to your forehead. It nearly tears your beating heart out of your chest.

“Come to my hotel room later.” And then he bends down to snag the phone from his pants with an aggravated growl, turning away from you as he lies through his teeth to a worried Prentiss on the other end.

In the backroom, having shimmied back into your pants and going to put your shirt back over your head, you fingers find your lips. They’re just a little swollen, exactly like his, but you wonder if he can still feel that final kiss against them the way that you could.

Oh boy, were you in trouble.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spence reid #dr spence reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds smut #smut

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halorocks1214 · 3 years

Text

the law of gender

Word Count: 7773

Summary: The Law of Gender states that everything has its masculine (yang) and feminine (yin) principles, and that these are the basis for all creation. The spiritual Initiate must balance the masculine and feminine energies within herself or himself to become a Master and a true co-creator with God

hello thunderfam community, its, uh *looks at the last part's published date that says november 2020* been a while, huh

not gonna lie, if i had a nickel for every time i wrote 2/3 of a fic for this series and then didn't touch it for months, only to finish it in a few day-long spam sesh, i would only have two nickels, but its concerning its happened twice /lh

i swear to god this series wont be abandoned. unlike other fandoms of mine that i kinda lost interest in thunderbirds is one that is /gen always in the back of my brain (plus i did outline a TON of this AU, far more than im willing to just say "lol im done" over ya know)

also, to the influx of m/c/y/t-based followers ive gotten over the past few months due to my latest hyperfixation that decided to read this: um, hi, if none of this makes sense, that sounds about right. if you wanna know more about tbs and its various incarnations, my inbox is always open, esp since this series im writing is very much an AU and waaaaay darker than the incarnation its based on :> do be gentle tho, tbs is a very teeny fandom, and i mean that in a 'posts only get a couple hundred notes at most' type deal

also, one last note to the thunderbirds side of things: there will no longer be an ao3 link on the tumblr post of the fic because tumblr likes shadow banning things with links that go outside of tumblr! which is probably why the last part didnt do so well :D awesome! i hate tumblr i swear to GOD

anyways, please enjoy!

Valerie Casey thought Jeff was the craziest man she had ever laid her eyes upon.

“Jeff, you’re the craziest man I’ve ever had the chance to lay my eyes upon.”

Playfully shrugging his shoulders, Jeff Tracy leaned back and gripped his beer bottle tighter while using his other hand to grip the back of his chair so he didn’t fall out of it and onto his ass. They were in public, “C’mon, what’s the issue?”

Casey was going to lose it, “Really? I knew the ego boost that you would get from being the First Man on Mars alongside running your very own extremely successful company would be huge, but I never even dreamed it would be this ridiculous.” She fidgeted with the napkin on the table closest to her before finally saying it, “Colorful rockets that can practically defy God himself-”

“And a submarine and space station.”

She nearly threw her hands up into the air, “That’s not the point, Jeff! Do you seriously see there being no issue in making technology that is more advanced than most technology to date out of the blue without giving those in power input first? You know what they could do if it makes them angry? You’re seriously just going to hop in without thinking about any of it?”

He looked her dead in the eyes, “Yes...”

She was going to form a migraine very quickly it seemed, “Money might be useful but it really can’t fix everything, you know. There’s a nice middle ground between ‘money can’t make you happy ever’ deniability and… whatever the hell it is you’re going through.”

It appeared as if he wasn’t done, however, “... Because I have you.”

Whatever Casey was expecting, it wasn’t that.

Jeff leaned forward, “A respected Major in the GDF? Throwing in her two cents? They would eat that up and maybe take my ideas into consideration.”

Casey blinked and cleared her throat, the point Jeff was going for getting to her for some reason, “Well, that’s your first problem. You don’t even know if I will give my support or not.”

Jeff’s grin got much less cocky and leaned more toward being soft, “Yeah, you’re not wrong there. I can’t force you to be on board, I wouldn’t do that to you. It would be unfortunate to be vehemently opposed to the viewpoint of my best friend, but I’m not going to hold it against you. I admit this idea is somewhat of a pipe dream and based on hopeful desires, but…” Jeff took a slightly pained deep breath, “I just want to prevent another Lucille from happening to anyone else.”

It probably would have hurt less if he stabbed her with a rusty spoon.

Lucy was a spitfire of a woman. Hard-headed, stubborn, but determined and had a sparkle in her eyes as bright as her hair. No wonder Jeff was smitten with the lady when she was there for the Cadets tryout alongside them. Jeff practically fell over backward with infatuation, like a child’s first crush, in a sad, adorable way. Jeff and Lucy were two sides of the same coin, which was why Casey was the only one not too entirely surprised when she said yes to the ring.

The news of her death was… shocking, to say the least, and utterly devastating, to say the most.

The funeral was quick, quiet, the family too busy dealing with a hospitalized Alan as well as the news of the baby of the family being in there spreading through the internet like wildfire. Casey did her best to delete any traces off the web, wringing any rookies a new one for daring to try and stir up the rumor mill, but the world was cruel, electing to see the Tracys as some circus act rather than the grieving family they were.

Jeff was a smart man. An incredibly smart, rich man, one that was a father of five children that he was suddenly in charge of with the help of his mother. Casey too had memories of her parents threatening to move mountains for her if it meant she would be safe. Considering how Jeff… spiraled a little bit after Lucy’s demise, how he left his children to fend for themselves for even just a second too long, it’s no wonder he felt the need to perform some grandiose gesture.

Jeff tended to deal in absolutes a lot. Once he laid his eyes on Lucy he was dead set on wooing her, when he took that first step on Mars he realized he could do even more and made an entire company in his name, so when the man accidentally hurt his children in his grief, what was stopping him in making sure he can go above and beyond to making it up to them (to her)?

Casey was still apprehensive, but, “Okay, let’s see what you can pull off.”

Jeff’s eyes widened and his grin became childlike in its enthusiasm, “Holy shit, you’re really going to back me up on this?”

Casey took a sip from her drink while choosing her next words very carefully, “I will stand by your side when you bring your final presentation to the GDF and other governments who need a say in how this operation will work. If their decision is against that, it’s all up to you. It’s the least I could do after all you have done for me and my wife.”

“Hell yeah, Val, you’re the best!” Jeff cheered, only to get a little too happy in his movements and fall backward out of his chair, straight onto the ground and onto his ass with a loud crash.

Casey could only cover her eyes in the direction of Jeff, wondering why she loved this dumbass as much as she did.

The next two weeks came and went, Jeff and his mother planning blueprint after blueprint after blueprint. Casey even got to briefly meet an old college friend of his, a man by the name… Brains, of all things?

“I-It’s a nickname, M-Miss Major. The name’s Hiram Ha-Hackenbacker, b-but feel free to call m-me Brains.”

So Brains was the third person who joined them on their expedition to impress those above them in power. Casey considered herself an unflappable woman, relatively speaking, so the way her stomach felt like it twisted into knots as she walked into the meeting that would decide their fate was a feeling she absolutely loathed.

The two men gave their speeches, their backstories, and their motivations to the whole idea of a national rescue organization. They talked about the technology and how they would achieve it with no detail being left behind. It was hard to not feel at least some sympathy for the idea when Jeff brought up Lucy, how he had a genuine reason as to why such an operation should exist.

Casey was clearing her throat when the General in the room called for her opinion.

She glanced over at her friend and newfound acquaintance. Brains adjusted his glasses with a grin, and Jeff, being Jeff, gave her a resounding two thumbs up.

Taking a deep breath, she took a step forward and spoke her heart out, “There are bound to be risks with such new and inventive technology, I don’t doubt that. But these guys, these men who stand before you today, well, they are just some of the most special and unique ones I’ve had the opportunity to witness. If there was anyone else behind these ideals, I wouldn’t have even considered it. But Jeff Tracy is no ordinary man, if I may point out. I don’t trust many with my life wholeheartedly, let alone swathes of people, but Jeff? If he put his mind to it, he could lead the world and have my full support.”

She turned back to look at him and felt the tension in her shoulders vanish when she made eye contact with Jeff’s prideful expression. She only hoped the people judging their life choices that could easily nip them in the bud felt the same way. They proceeded to have a brief recess so everyone could relax and make final decisions. This was the first time in a while Casey noticed Jeff rapidly tapping his foot nervously.

It took a lot nowadays for Jeff Tracy to show his nervousness.

Eventually, the recess was over and they were back in the room. No displays or blueprints or holograms, just the three humans standing side by side watching the council file back into their seats one by one. The lethargicness of the whole thing only resulted in making them more worried. Finally, the General was done shifting his papers and clearing his throat, catching the (hopefully) soon-to-be Operatives’ attention.

He stood up and brushed off his pants before giving the final verdict, “We are aware that an idea such as International Rescue is very original, so much so that it’s unheard of. There is bound to be pushback from the leaders of the world due to such an unorthodox method of action.”

The three stood with bated breath.

The General let out an elongated sigh, “However, Colonel Tracy is a valued Cadet, one with unrivaled skills and smarts. If he and his colleagues want to put in the work of figuring out how his operation can interact within the laws of other countries, then we don’t see why he can’t pull it off.”

They nodded their heads with grace and thanked the higher-ups for giving them the leniency to pull off their plan. Only once they were outside the building did they start cheering and whooping. “Hell yeah!” Jeff yelled with a fist in the air, “Operation Thunderbirds is a go, lady, and gentleman!”

Brains opted to get an early night’s sleep while Casey and Jeff went to a nearby bar to celebrate even further. The two clinked a glass, and Jeff froze right before the drink touched his lips, “Do you think she would be proud of me?”

Casey swallowed the liquid that she was holding in her cheeks, realizing who ‘she’ was immediately, “Of course, I think she would have fallen in love with you all over again after seeing the amazing man you became.”

Jeff’s grin got even wider, finally taking his own sip, “Heh, that does sound like something she would do.”

Time flew by faster than expected, and Casey got to know Jeff’s sons more and more. Scott and John were showing early signs of being the best of the best, and Virgil and Gordon might not have been following so closely in their father’s footsteps, but the careers they were pursuing were extraordinary nonetheless. She couldn’t wait to see their names inevitably appear in the news for their accomplishments.

And baby Alan was cute, fine, she’ll admit that to herself.

Throughout all the building and the planning and even the babysitting, she and Jeff continued to go on missions together, laughing in the happy moments as they came and went. The ‘Birds themselves might not have been fully completed, but that was a test of the magnitude of their potential when they looked so good even in their halfway-built stages. Casey was just lucky everyone else heard her occasional slips of the tongue of ‘International Rescue’ as a fun little nickname for Jeff while on jobs.

Not that the man helped in any way to persuade them to think otherwise.

“The magnifique International Rescue, ey? Can’t believe I’m so good at my job I can save the whole world just by flexing an arm.”

The bastard, Casey couldn’t help but roll her eyes fondly.

The days went by quicker and quicker and Casey had no choice but to start planning an absolutely spectacular send-off for Jeff when International Rescue was fully up and running and he was retired from the GDF. Everything was going excitingly smoothly.

Until a very large blast consumed the sky as well those ambitions.

“Colonel Tracy? Colonel Tracy are you there?!”

“Jeff, please respond!”

“... He’s gone.”

What was once a dream as bright as a star exploded, leaving everyone else to be burned in the place of a man who would’ve changed the world.

---

There’s something to be said about the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Casey was never the biggest fan of comparing soldiers (and other workers in general) to their fathers if said father was in the same field of work. It left too many opportunities for the soldier to gain a bigger ego than needed, or maybe put too much pressure on their shoulders, as well as left the window open for their comrades to use that relation to harm them if they didn’t like what the father did in his time on duty.

But here she was, looking at 26-year-old Scott Tracy, seeing nothing but Jeff again in those piercing blue eyes. The fire and determination of a man who wants nothing more than to save their fellow humans. She looks on with fondness, faint hurt, and confusion. She never expected Jeff to be the one to pass on his characteristics so heavily to his sons. Some hobbies and values, of course, but if Casey didn’t know any better she might have said she traveled back in time itself to watch Jeff try out for the Cadets again.

“Alan! The throttle is not a stick you use to test your wrist dexterity!”

Talking to Jeff’s mother these past few months, however, has led her to believe that there were certain generational practices in the Tracy family she wasn’t aware of. From what she’s seen alone she’s genuinely shocked Jeff never talked more about his mother. Every day she’s been here she has had at least one ah, so that’s where he gets it from moment while watching Mrs. Tracy help teach Alan.

Which was the other elephant in the room.

When Scott and Mrs. Tracy had contacted her with the idea to continue Jeff’s legacy, she had jumped at the chance. What Jeff was pulling off was monumental, and she now regretted being against it at the very beginning, but it was hard for a man to continue his ideas when he was six feet under. That’s why she was genuinely thrilled to see that his family was ready to make sure it didn’t die with him.

But when she got to the island and saw that their not-so-adult brother was also going to be a part of that legacy...

“Scott, I know I seem like a buzzkill with the same question over and over again, but are you sure sending Alan out as an Operative is such a good idea?”

Scott glanced at her from the corner of his eye before looking back at his younger brother with a grin on his face, “I know, Colonel, believe me, I know. All arguments have been put on the table in front of us here, some of us have even flipped sides more than once, but if there’s anything we’ve all agreed on, at the very least, is to let Alan show us himself what he is capable of. We shouldn’t make a decision until all the facts are laid out in front of us, right?”

She could feel the Jeff Tracy dripping off those words at an unhealthy level.

Nonetheless, Jeff was a smart man, and his sons even more so, so she finally elected to concede her worries for now, “Fair enough, we shall wait and see.”

Looking back at the scene before them, she watched as Mrs. Tracy placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Alan, I know you’re just jittery and nervous and laughter is your best way to get it out, but you’re not going to be able to handle it that way in the real rescues. Once you’re out there, there’s going to be a whole lot more pressure than just your grandma and brothers watching you.”

Alan shook his head as he slid the VR device off, using his now free eyes to give the beadiest look possible to his grandma, “I know, I know, it’s just so- to think that this kind of stuff might be real sooner rather than later-”

Grandma patted his back a few times, “Yeah, we get ya honey, but still, the people inside the collapsing satellite aren’t going to want to hear you talk about how cool the rocket is, they’re going to want you to save them before they become deep-fried astronaut.”

Alan nodded while placing the device over his eyes again, “Right, gotta focus, gotta focus!”

Casey turned to watch the screen before Grandma was fully backed away from Alan in the training simulator. With a flick of white, the display was showing yet another asteroid belt. The entire point of these tests was to see Alan’s reaction times and reflexes, as well as the whole ‘how good of a pilot he really was’ thing. It was set up to start right after a few astronauts were saved from a malfunctioning satellite, but right as they were leaving, a dangerous asteroid storm was hitting, and thus to complete the rescue, Alan would need to navigate his way out of it.

Of course, much more training would take place afterward- the etiquette of what to say to the people you were rescuing, how to properly carry unconscious people, where to place your hands on someone who needed the extra support, et cetera- but the main part of Alan’s job as an Operative would be flying a giant red rocket. She could see the merit in testing out that particular skill first.

One could argue that just because Alan couldn’t fly one of the ‘Birds didn’t mean he couldn’t be an Operative on the ground, to which Casey was 87% sure she heard John planning something like that for the youngest if he didn’t do so well in the simulations, but with the whole ‘a square is a rectangle but a rectangle isn’t a square’ idea in mind, if Alan could quite literally pilot a giant red rocket, then they could safely assume he would be able to do many other things.

So far for this run, Alan seemed to be doing quite well. Keeping his rescuees calm when they panicked, reacting right in time to avoid a stray asteroid. The only mildly concerning thing was when a smaller asteroid dinged one of the thrusters of the rocket, causing some turbulence and one of the NPCs to let out a cry in fear. Alan rolled his shoulder with a grin, “Relaaaax, I’m sure that didn’t mean anything. Uh, probably.”

Casey winced, conveniently ignoring the facepalm Scott was making out of the corner of her eye. Aha, teenagers and their occasional lack of brain-to-mouth filter. The whole ‘proper etiquette’ training came back to her mind rather quickly. An issue for a later date.

As the simulation continued, the belt got thicker and thicker, and the controls were shakier and shakier. Gordon, who had apparently come up to stand next to her at some point, had a concerned look on his face, “Is that supposed to happen? The sticks going janky?”

John, who was standing next to Scott (Casey realized she had to have been paying way more attention to Alan’s simulation than she thought if she missed two entire new people in her vicinity), crossed his arms, “Nope, guess that asteroid did a lot more damage than he expected. Let’s see how he handles it.”

The family stood taut as Alan looked around, trying to get a good grasp on everything that was heading his way, judging what kind of moves he would need to take with the faulty thruster now as an obstacle in play. Then, the ending was approaching, a mass of asteroids so large it was almost a wall with how many there were. Casey would later shamefully admit how she squinted her eyes in an attempt to look away from what she assumed would be failure.

Because with a sudden gracefulness Alan must have kept hidden away, he threaded the needle through openings even Scott grimaced at. Still, he kept his voice low as he reassured the NPCs that it was going to be okay, even speeding up a little toward the last little bit so they would be out faster and the fake humans would no longer have to be as worried as they were.

As the rocket’s flight path smoothed out and the YOU FINISHED screen slowly seeped onto the screen, Alan took off his VR device and turned around slowly to stare at his family. He grinned nervously once he noticed how all of them had gaping mouths of various sizes and shock, yes, even Casey. He rubbed the back of his neck, “Um, was that good?”

Good, he asked? It was more than good, he nailed it! Perfectly too!

It’s not that they were expecting Alan to crash and burn (at least, not as the immediate option out of all outcomes), but to see him dodge all of the giant rocks as if he were essentially flying a non-damaged rocket, not even being hit once… Casey would say it was nothing short of literal incredibleness.

Scott was grinning from ear to ear, “Well, I think my vote will be an indefinite ‘yes’ from now on.”

Gordon had his arms up in the air, “Woohoo! Go Alan yeaaah!”

Casey felt her own smile form when she noticed how Alan got bashful at the praise. You would think he would have somewhat of an ego with his eccentric personality, but when push came to shove with the ‘serious’ stuff, he was rather humble at heart. Tracys are the same, Casey thought to herself.

Later, during their downtime, Alan decided to play his handheld device near Casey, partially because his brothers were busy in other parts of the house doing the things they specifically wanted to do for their breaks, but probably also because Alan wanted to let the victory-high dissipate a little before facing them. It made sense; if Scott was as similar to Jeff as Casey pictured, then his smothering instincts had to have been intense, his brothers not far behind. Alan had very valid concern about being overwhelmed by their celebrations.

As Casey looked through files on a borrowed datapad she logged into with her work account, she heard Alan speak from off to her side, “Hey, Aunt Casey?”

She raised an eyebrow in his direction, humming in response yet not looking away from the ridiculous contract they were trying to get her to sign. Seriously, some people just thought they could pull a fast one over her as if she weren’t a highly respected Colonel in the industry, good lord.

It was understood she was listening, though, considering Alan continued onward, “... Do you think I could be as good as them?”

My brothers went unspoken only in words.

Stopping all other thoughts immediately, she abruptly looked down into the bright, blue eyes of the youngest Tracy. It was hard to tell how long they stared at each other in silence, that heavy question needing an even heavier answer to satisfy it. In that moment, she felt the world stop. She saw a lot of things in those eyes: childish naivety, a small fire of an ego just waiting for fuel to be added, but most of all, there was one thing that caught her completely off guard.

She saw Jeff Tracy’s determination shining just as much in Alan as she did in Scott.

Now, she doesn’t like comparing those to their successful family members, but the Tracys had always been a unique type of breed. Jeff always surprised her, and these last few months spent with his family had done even more of that, hell, they’ve practically blown her out of the water altogether.

Taking a deep breath, Casey gave Alan the most genuine smile she could muster, “Yes, Alan, I think you could be even better one day if you put your heart and mind into it.”

The face Alan made would make you think she told him he could be in charge of International Rescue himself. It looked like he was about to say another thing as well, most likely thank her, but a voice shouted from where the bedrooms were located, causing them to look away from one another.

“ALAN! WE TOLD YOU THAT IF YOU WANTED TO TRAIN YOU HAD TO GET ALL YOUR HOMEWORK DONE!”

Casey peeked at him from the corner of her eye to see genuine confusion on his face. He shouted back, “Yeah! I swear I finished all of it!” Alan stood up from his chair and cupped his hands around his mouth like a funnel, his handheld device forgotten on the table, “I wouldn’t lie about that kind of stuff, you know me!”

A brief moment of silence fell over the house before the shouting started up again, “YEAH?! THEN WHAT’S THIS UNFINISHED ESSAY YOU LEFT OPEN ON YOUR COMPUTER?!”

If you were to ask Casey what it felt like in that moment, she would say you could probably feel the air a pin produced when you dropped it. She watched as all the color drained from his face, and before she could give a disappointed glare, Alan practically stumbled and tripped over the chair as he raced to his room, “WAIT! THANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME-” he bumped his knee into the wall and let out a small curse before he continued, his voice getting quieter and quieter as he ran up the stairs, “I KNEW I WAS FORGETTING SOMETHING!”

Casey was left there to stare at nothing and process whatever the hell just happened. It wasn’t too long before she started to chuckle and helped put back the chairs where they belonged. Jeff Tracy’s sons were all fine young men who would go on to do great things in his footsteps, but they were also children first and foremost. Children who have been through things only found in other people’s nightmares.

But they were still family; it was always nice getting reminders of that fact. That despite the things they’ve had to overcome, they’re sticking close together. That they’re still ready to be there for one another in the blink of an eye, and that they still hold that shred of magical innocence where other men and women seem to fail. While Casey has never held it against those men and women, she could hardly blame them for it even, that just makes her pride in the Tracy family even stronger.

She only hoped that the magic lasted as long as it could before the inevitable.

---

Mopierre Compound.

Casey shuddered. There was a reason they shut this place down. She just hoped that Jeff didn’t think too hard about it as well. If she had a kid that was taken here, regardless of whether or not it was inactive or god forbid actually active, she would definitely lose it.

When John contacted her out of the blue with information about the Hood’s whereabouts (how he had Alan for weeks all alone), Casey took zero time in storming out of her office and getting her soldiers up and running to support the Tracys. The Hood had been causing chaos for far too long, and to commit such an action of stealing the youngest Tracy away and doing God knows what to him-

Casey was done being a failure, the Hood was being stopped one way or another tonight.

And stopped he was. Casey couldn’t stop the gasp of shock leaving her lips when she saw Scott limping out of the compound with a beaten-up Hood, Alan trailing ever so slightly behind him somewhat bewildered but also visibly overwhelmed. Whatever must have happened in there shaken him up, badly, and Casey’s heart ached at the thought.

Gordon was off with Virgil making sure his older brother didn’t obtain any kind of concussion from the obvious head injury he was sporting. Kayo was off talking to other soldiers about what to do with Havoc and Fuse, so she was the first to see the eldest and youngest toddle their way out to everyone. She didn’t make a big fuss, just grinned and waited for the others to notice as well. Casey’s best guess was the sister was waiting for them to be situated before throwing even more hecticness in their faces.

“Mr. Tracy! Mr. Tracy!” a soldier shouted out next to her. Casey turned back to see about three Cadets make their way over to the disheveled brothers. So much for Kayo’s attempt at giving them a moment of respite. She was unable to get a word in as the soldiers rushed over to the brothers, two of which grabbed the Hood from Scott with the last one taking the villain’s place in a more supportive position. They were a good distance apart, but Casey could tell that the elder Tracy wasn’t fairing the greatest, and there was much more than the limp to base her assumptions on.

She realized mostly everyone went silent at the Tracys appearing out of nowhere, and wanting to save them from as much scrutiny as possible, “Hey! All of you, get back to your jobs! We’re highly trained government officials on a mission, not tourists exploring a tropical getaway!”

Multiple YES MA’AMs sounded throughout the area, and with a satisfied sigh to herself, Casey felt like she could breathe again. The soldier helping Scott get to the nearest medical staff walked in front of her, the Tracy giving her a grateful nod once she looked him in the eyes. Returning the gesture, she continued watching as they made their way down the hill, Scott being deposited into his family’s waiting arms.

Mainly John and Gordon, though Virgil was quick to show his affection when Scott was shoved to sit down next to him. The brunet seemed to get cold feet once he was situated, like he was nervous to admit he spilled a glass of milk somewhere, and before Casey could even begin to come up with reasons why he looked that way, she noticed a mop of blond out of the corner of her eye.

Quickly turning, she released a huff of air she didn’t even know she had inside herself at the moment, “Oh, Alan, it’s just you. Scared me for a second there.”

Alan had a silver tarp wrapped snugly around his shoulders- shock blanket, most definitely- which glinted in the moonlight as he shrugged them. He stuck his hands out in the part where the two edges were held together and moved his fingers very specifically, Glad to see I still have it in me. I’ll be sure to remember this when I wanna do something similar to Gordon.

Ah, Virgil mentioned Alan was selectively mute as a coping mechanism. And as much as she wanted to joke with him, keep the tone light, she had simply lived too long a life where she didn’t get such pleasures.

Casey flicked her vision back and forth between the Tracy next to her and the Tracys on lower ground, and unsavory taste filling her mouth at the reasons on why Alan wasn’t going to them, “Alan, I don’t mean to make any assumptions, but is there a particular reason you’re choosing to spend your free time with me? Not that I don’t want you to if you want, but-”

Suddenly, a blur shot out from the group down below, John responding to its movements just as quick as it was, “Whoa! Gordon, wait-”

Taking a moment to fully observe the situation, Casey deduced that it was indeed a tense one with the way John was gripping Gordon’s arm. He seemed to be holding the younger brother back from charging over to what appeared to be the vehicle that housed the Hood.

Oh.

John’s rather loose grasp gave Casey the idea that the older brother was struggling on the decision to either let Gordon loose and go ham or stay responsible and make sure he didn’t also land in jail, much to what was probably everyone’s chagrin. Honestly, if Gordon landed in jail that would just give him more prime opportunity to murder the Hood, not that John wasn’t two seconds away from doing that himself, “Gordon, I’m as pissed as you are, but we all need to calm down for Alan-”

“Calm down?! I get told that the bastard five feet away from my fists potentially tortured my little brother and you want me to calm the hell down?!”

Hoo.

Well then.

Casey wasn’t sure where to start with that.

Looking over to her right where Alan was currently standing, tugging the shock blanket around himself ever so slightly tighter, she could tell the youngest Tracy was in the same position. However, he wasn’t tensed up so much as he was forlorn. It’s like he suspected this kind of reaction, and he felt bad for it.

Ugh, the Tracys and their unnecessary guilt complexes. The only thing Casey wished for was that Alan never reached any kind of level compared to his older siblings. She should have expected her wish wouldn’t be granted. You don’t even get small mercies like that in this life.

Blinking a few times, she noticed Alan staring more intently at her, even waving his hand a little bit to get her to notice again, “Yes, Alan?”

Immediately regretting her normally harsh tone of voice after watching Alan flinch a little bit back, she didn’t even have a second to apologize before she recognized the telltale movements of ASL from the boy, Was I… he stopped in thought as if he wanted to find the exact right word to convey his emotions, Right?

Casey was a little lost on what he asked. She cleared her throat, purposefully making sure she dropped the serious commander facade if only for a moment, “I’m sorry, right about what exactly?”

Alan thinned his lips. It seemed he was annoyed he couldn’t come up with the right words. After another few seconds of struggling, he found his footing, Scott was impressed by how I decided to save the Hood despite everything he’s done to us and other people. He wouldn’t shut up the whole time we were together, but I… I just…

He stopped. Casey noticed how his hands were trembling more than they were before, and his eyes were starting to get more and more glazed as if he was back in the action itself. Well, they may call her Aunt for fun, but she was given the title of Godmother for a reason. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she managed to speak in her softest voice yet, “You what, Alan?”

Alan inhaled deeply through his nose before gaining the courage to continue, I didn’t know which was which, and I didn’t want to risk it. I think if I had any kind of confidence, any kind of idea of which Scott was the right one, I wouldn’t have… I don’t think... for a brief second, Alan covered his eyes and rubbed his face in frustration, but before Casey could egg him on again, he ripped the bandaid right off, I wouldn’t have even waited until they were falling before deciding to let him drop! I would have let him die and I wouldn’t have even cared. I care for roadkill I see on the street sometimes more than I would have cared for him!

With his biggest and youngest eyes yet, he looked directly into hers, tears forming, Would that have made me bad instead? I’m I wrong for secretly wanting that? He took a deep breath, finishing his thought once and for all, Does that make me like him?

Morality has never been an easy concept for Casey to grasp, frankly, it’s not easy for anyone on planet Earth to truly decide what was right or wrong for a situation. No matter what you decide, people will think you made the wrong choice. This is especially worse for deaths at the hands of people not authorized to kill anyone. It would seem simple, right? Self-defense is a human right, no one would get angry at you for protecting your family, it should be simple, but alas, it was not.

People will think you used the wrong thing to defend yourself with; people will think that person shouldn’t have killed regardless, whether it was because they believed in upholding certain laws when it came to handling criminals or they just had a stringent ‘no-killing anyone’ policy because that’s what they grew up believing. That’s not even taking into account the supposed killer’s own beliefs on how they want to handle killing someone. Maybe they believed no one should die without the right to a fair trial. It feels like it should be easy, after all, that person killed someone wanting to hurt them, guilt is the last thing that should be on their mind…

But the human mind was a fickle thing, and it’ll feel whatever it wanted to feel, even if we realized it was illogical in hindsight. It was worse for younger people, oh god, was it worse. Casey had watched firsthand what the horrors of war could do to a soldier’s state of being. War itself was already a horribly grey subject, the last thing those people needed were to be cast into a problem that shouldn’t have even involved them.

To see Alan struggle with the concept, to see him struggle over it so personally, when he should be struggling over college and what job opportunities he now had, Casey was very violently reminded of those traumatized soldiers who’d seen things no one should have had to see, and her chest ached. She’d never been the best with cushy-feely-type words, but she told herself that if it came down to it, she wouldn’t mess it up.

By god she swore not to mess this up. Leaving her one hand on his shoulder and taking her other to place it on the still free one, she made sure his full attention was on her, “Alan, I’m going to start this off by saying you are nothing like him.” Alan looked like he wanted to move his hands to argue back, but she kept her ground, “I’m not going to lie and say they aren’t any similarities whatsoever, but that’s because he’s human!” She rushed out before Alan could take it the wrong way, “He was an awful, disgusting, selfish human, but human nonetheless, of course, there might be some overlap. But that means there’s overlap between him and John, even Virgil, hell, even Gordon! Scott broke his arm in pure anger, do you think that makes him as bad as the Hood?”

Alan might as well have broken his neck with how fast he shook it. Good, she was getting through to him, “Okay, so now you see you aren’t some orphan puppy murderer, glad we got that out of the way.” Alan’s silent chuckles led her to believe that he trusted her, and while that gave her some reprieve, this last part was going to be the hardest regardless of how he reacted before, “Now, as for the whole ‘I wanted him dead part’... I don’t think anyone in their right mind would be mad at you for wanting to take out the man who had tortured you consistently. Forgetting how he hurt the rest of your family, how he hurt the rest of humanity, it would be hard to forgive anyone who would be willing to torture an 18-year-old.”

Taking a minute to see how Alan was absorbing her information, she was relieved to see him at least considering it. Taking a deep breath, she had one final thing to say, “Of course, there are going to be people who disagree with what you did, but that will be because of a variety of reasons. Some people have a ‘no civilian can kill’ policy, some people are contrarian for the sole purpose of having a devil’s advocate to keep the debate hot, hell, there might be a very small minority of people who supported the Hood for whatever reason, but Alan… none of those people matter.”

She watched him blink some of the tears out of his eyes in confusion. Chuckling, she finally took her hands away from him and crossed them behind her back in her Colonel Pose, taking in the scene of all of her soldiers diligently completing their duties next to them, “I have worked with countless people dedicated to their work having to fall prey to having to make that split-second decision. Years of watching people make them, having to make them myself, the most valuable thing I have taken away is making sure you, the person in question who had to consider it or even finish it, are okay with it.” With most of her energy out there, she took one of her hands and rubbed the bridge of her nose in exhaustion, “Now, whether you decide you want to figure out why you may feel that way, or you get help in deciding that these thoughts are actually okay will be up to you.”

She looked back at him with a motherly grin, “Not even your brothers can help you decide. They can nudge in a direction, and I think we both know which direction that is, but it is up to you to decide if that direction is right for you. Men have been fighting over this topic since we first became homo sapiens, Alan, and I don’t think we’ll ever come to a unanimous decision, not in my life, not in your life, probably not even in your potential children’s life. That’s why it’s only up to you, okay? If you try and get approval from those around you, it only ends in you being ripped apart in five different directions. Don’t fall prey to humanity’s whims, there’s thousands of them, and most of them are garbage anyway.”

A few more silent chuckles gave her the belief that her work was done, but when she felt a pair of arms rapidly make their way around her shoulders, the wind was knocked out of her sails, so to speak. She looked down to see Alan pressing his face into her shoulder, the blanket now wrapped around both of them. The words he was saying were clear: Thank you.

Casey just sighed and hugged him back, “Now then, I have a feeling a couple of other family members are about to trip over themselves trying to see you.” She gently pushed him away to look him in the eyes, wiping away the dirt on his shoulders from underneath the blanket, “Go enjoy this time, Alan. You’ve all been waiting for this for nearly a decade.”

Alan nodded as he dabbed at his eyes, slowly but surely making his way toward the rest of his family. Casey watched as he almost stumbled like a newborn giraffe toward his older brothers, sort of slipping on the part of the hill that went from diagonal to horizontal, catching their attention. With how high-strung he already seemed to be, Gordon was the first to hop over to Alan and grab him in a hug.

It wasn’t for long, though. John came over to place his hand on their shoulders, probably informing them of the fact that Alan should be checked out by the paramedics as well for safety reasons. With as little separation as possible, they helped their youngest brother over to where Virgil and Scott were sitting, placing him in between the older two. With no hesitation whatsoever, Alan was quick to grab Scott’s hand while laying his head on Virgil’s shoulder. A thought rang in the back of Casey's head on how Alan hadn’t done something like that in quite a while, hmmm.

Casey scanned the surrounding area, noticing that Kayo was now talking with a handcuffed Fuse and Havoc in the back of a vehicle away from the Hood. It was easy to assume that she was informing them about their potential punishments, but the small grin she had on her face said that more than chats about disciplinary action were happening. Didn’t John mention Fuse being the reason they noted this location in the first place? Casey would need to ask more about that later.

Looking around a little bit more, it wasn’t long before she found the head of the Tracy family himself. Jeff seemed to be deep in his own conversation with Lady Penelope, both of them waving their hands around sporadically. What a wake-up call poor Penelope must have received. Hey so we maybe found our missing baby brother in this random location please join the entire GDF in getting over there while he head to it first please and thank youuu.

Soon, Jeff waved at her goodbye, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned around. As he made his way toward his sons, he looked up a little higher than expected and made eye contact with Casey. So many words needed to be said, so many plans needed to be thought out, but with one glance, the only thing they realized they needed to do at this moment was smile at each other. It wouldn’t solve everything right away, but for just a moment, it was enough.

Jeff was just as readable as he always had been. Thank you. Thank you for everything. For being there when I couldn’t.

Casey had hoped she was too. Of course, it was the least I could do for you and your family after everything they’ve done. For me, as well as everyone else.

Of course, they would need to talk more. About the future of IR, about Fuse and Havoc’s futures, of Hood’s containment, of how their family would move forward, hell, ignoring all of that, Casey still wanted to just verbally talk with the man. They were close friends, she wanted to catch up with him out of pure want to keep their relationship alive now that he was as well.

But that was a future problem. After all, Jeff finally had all of his sons in his grasp for once, he deserved a moment with them. Plus, she was too busy watching the sunrise over the horizon of the ocean to join him anyway.

For the first time in a near-decade, things felt like they were truly looking up.

#thunderbirds #colonel casey #alan tracy #jeff tracy #scott tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfic #series: rules of alchemy #my post #my fic

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lvllns · 3 years

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first line meme

i was tagged by @impossible-rat-babies and @ejunkiet , thank you both so much for the tags 🥺🥺

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors!

i think everyone has been tagged at this point so i won’t tag anyone but if you wanna do this, then ur tagged now congrats! i skipped over a lot of my older stuff to focus on newer things and wips because i feel like my style has changed enough that older pieces aren’t accurate anymore anyway enjoy whatever the fuck is happening here!

1. honey on my fingers [wayhaven, mason x sparrow]

Mason moans.

2. like petrol soaked paper and fireworks [wayhaven, mason x sparrow]

Mason wakes up slowly, eyes blinking open as he takes in his surroundings and realizes a couple things.

3. with me, always [wayhaven, mason x sparrow]

It isn’t until they actually get to the warehouse that Sparrow starts to wonder if maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

4. bite down [when the night comes, finn x ezra x laire]

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

5. and in the dark, i can hear your heartbeat [wayhaven, nate x f!detective]

There is a moment, however brief, where you think this is a terrible idea.

6. you’re like the sun that gives the moon its glow [wayhaven, mason x sparrow]

Sparrow is stretched out on their bed, arms raised over their head and legs crossed at the ankles. Their eyes are closed, face a mask of serenity, and there’s a part of Mason that takes that as an ego boost considering what they just finished doing.

7. with kisses on my mouth [wayhaven, mason x sparrow]

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Sparrow says as they look at everything laid out before them.

8. took the breath from my open mouth [wayhaven, mason x sparrow]

Somehow, it’s become a thing they do.

9. wip adam and f!detective smut

In the end, you discover it by complete accident.

10. wip mortality convo between felix and kincaid

Felix is asleep on his chest, bare save for a pair of hastily tugged on briefs, and Kincaid can’t stop thinking.

11. wip kid fic with felix and kincaid

Felix finds him slumped in a chair, head in his hands with blood everywhere and it isn’t until the other man inhales sharply that Kincaid even realizes he’s there.

12. wip mason and sparrow

The chair shifts behind Sparrow’s head, sinking down as Mason leans the upper half of his body over the top.

13. kincaid becomes a vampire

Standing in a shitty rest stop bathroom, Kincaid watches his split knuckles mend and thinks that he should have seen this coming.

14. wip callahan and adam

Adam is sprawled out on her sofa, one arm tucked behind his head, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, as he quietly reads whatever he snuck from Nate’s library.

15. wip kitchen convo with adam and cal

She gives up trying to sleep after three hours of staring at the wall, eyes blank and thumb methodically rubbing over the scar on her wrist.

16. wip felassan lives fic

He should be dead.

17. wip modern au fenris and penelope

Penelope is deep in a conversation with a customer when the shop door opens and closes.

18. wip sparrow and mason

Sparrow is in the middle of scribbling down a note in the margin of the book they’re reading when somebody knocks on the door to their apartment.

19. wip mason helps sparrow cut and dye their hair

Mason is lounging in bed, legs stretched out and ankles crossed, scrolling through his phone when Sparrow pokes their head in.

20. SIBLING AU

Sparrow is leaning against the table, arms loosely crossed over their chest, as Verda talks to Nate and Adam about the wound and the blood when their phone rings.

#caiti.txt #long post #writing tag #skipped over my two cricket and felix pieces bc they're.....not a canon thing anymore now that cricket doesn't exist lmao #it's pretty fuckin clear what my pattern is and that is: short opening sentences #gods bite down is probably one of my favorite things i've ever written i'm ngl #honey on my fingers has my favorite opening line though ngl #this also......skips over stuff i've posted just to tumblr whatever too late now lmao #we're going to ignore the repeat instances of me writing people stretched out on sofas with their ankles crossed

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need-a-new-hobby · 4 years

Text

Pleasure is my Business

It was another late night. Hotch smiled as he watched Piper playfully tug Spencer out of the office, childishly mocking his statistical citations while Penelope hooked her arm around Derek’s with Rossi, Emily and JJ making fun of the group as they walked to the elevator. But unlike them, who stuck together because they had no-one else, he did have a family. And that life had walked away from him. He settled back down into his chair and switched his laptop on. He opened the file Haley had sent him, watching his son ride his bike for the first time, desperately wishing he could be there. An open smile broke onto his face as his son said hi to him. When was the last time he’d said hi back, the last time he’d held his son? But the very reason he couldn’t was the same reason he couldn’t watch the rest of the video. A few weeks ago, it was a case in Alabama. Today, one in Dallas. And there would be another one tomorrow. And it would never stop. That’s how Hotch found himself in an SUV, not heading home, but headed to the airport. It’s how he found himself in Dallas, Texas in a pristine hotel, in front of another dead body.

“The lawyers want it classified as a suicide. I’m hoping this consult will help buy us more time.”

“Well, first of all, no-one takes Viagra before committing suicide.” Hotch held up a packet with one gloved hand. “He have a wife?”

“Yeah, at home with the kids.”

“So, mistress or prostitute?”

“Agent Hotchner, what I'm about to tell you is confidential information. It's not to be included in any reports. Every Wednesday, Ashford withdrew $10,000 out of a fund in cash. Today was no different.”

“So, a high-end prostitute,” he concluded.

“We interviewed the valet, the concierge, no one saw her.”

“Well, that's not surprising. These women know how to be discreet.” Hotch ripped off his gloves as they walked to the elevator. “You said this isn’t the first?”

“No. We think it’s the second.”

“Well, I’m going to have to call my team.”

“Understood. Anything you need?”

“I just need a place for my team to set up and all your case files.”

“We don't have as much on Michael Stanton, but I'll send it over. I'll be in touch in the morning. Thank you, Agent Hotchner.” Hotch shook the detective’s hand before getting into the elevator with a young blonde woman, her hand resting on a suitcase.

“What floor?”

“Uh…16, thank you.” Hotch patiently watched the elevator doors, ignoring the woman standing slightly behind him.

“Long night?”

“Uh, kind of. Yeah.”

“Yeah. Me, too. These Tokyo markets are killing me.” The doors opened at her floor and she excused herself, wishing Hotch a good night as she dragged her suitcase over the lush carpeting, slowly unbuttoning her silk white blouse, exposing creamy white skin covered by black lace. Reaching up, she undid the tight, messy bun and waited for her client to open the door.

Meanwhile, Piper groggily answered her phone. “Hotch, it is 4 in the morning. Why are you still awake?”

“We have a case in Dallas. I’m already here.”

“Shit, did I miss the flight?”

“No. I was asked to come here personally, as a consult. The jet will be waiting at 7 to bring you all here.” Piper yawned.

“Okay. We’ll be there.” Piper turned her cell of, dumping it on the mattress before she padded over to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. By 6, she’d showered, grabbed breakfast and packed her bag and by 7, was on the jet, sitting opposite to Spencer and next to Emily. She was on her fourth cup of coffee by the time the others joined them, and they started discussing the case.

“Female serial killers are a fascinating field,” Spencer started. “We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies. Murder is the goal.”

“Incidentally, the first recorded serial killers were women,” Piper remarked. “In ancient Rome, a group of women were rumoured to have been poisoning dozens of men. Livy staged a huge trial and had the women drink their own concoction since they claimed it was harmless.” Rossi stared at her and she apologised quickly. “Basically, women are more efficient at killing.”

“So, assuming that the job is the stressor, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?” Derek put forward.

“Money, drugs, post-traumatic stress disorder,” Piper suggested.

“At some point, every call girl, no matter how well paid, gets coerced into an activity she didn't consent to,” Rossi added.

“Aileen Wuornos used to purposefully stage paid sexual encounters as an excuse to murder men she thought would rape her,” Emily suggested.

“But Wuornos was psychotic and disorganized. I think this girl's poisoning them before she has sex with them,” Hotch remarked from the laptop.

“She's using tetra-methylene-disulfotetramine. It's a popular rat poison in China, easily soluble in alcohol.”

“It’s the perfect MO. Quiet, quick…” Piper trailed off.

“And the victims never see it coming because they think they're getting lucky,” Rossi finished.

“At $10,000 a night, these men are paying for discretion as well as sex. She has a history with them. They see her repeatedly. She didn't decide to kill them in the moment. She walks in with the intent to kill them and she's doing it before she sleeps with them.”

“So, she's not just organized, she's also methodical. She decides early which one of her clients are worth killing,” Morgan noted. “Maybe the victims all share the same fetish.”

Piper sighed. “Both males were in their 50s, highly visible, both married a few times with kids. Maybe she was just repulsed by them.”

“And we're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out,” Emily scoffed.

“Actually, I may have had some luck there,” JJ announced. “Hoyt Ashford’s wife wasn’t happy with how he died. But there’s another bad news. The hedge fund released a statement.” JJ passed over a printed document to Derek and Piper.

"Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison," Derek read out. Piper noticed Spencer’s eyebrows furrow.

“What’s up?”

“Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?” Spencer rummaged through his pile of papers before reading out another statement. “According to company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home.”

“Sounds like the same person wrote it,” Hotch noted. As the plane hit the tarmac, Hotch told Prentiss and Morgan to start interviewing the wife and JJ to call both lawyers.

^-^

Derek sipped the glass of soda Mrs Ashford set on the table while Emily asked her questions. “We think your husband might have been targeted because of something... sexual he did with this call girl. We know this is hard, but is there anything you can tell us about what he liked?”

“In bed? I can sum it up in one word. Younger.”

“How much younger?”

“24, 25. It's... That was when I met him.”

“So, your age difference was part of the attraction?”

“Are you kidding? It was the whole relationship.”

“Mrs. Ashford, no offense, but... Your husband spent a lot of money on this woman. Was there anything else at all that he liked from a younger woman besides the ego boost?”

“There's a certain kind of man, agent, for whom the only kind of sex that matters is the ego boost. But in a marriage like ours, you have to work at it. Or in my husband's case...pay for it.”

Meanwhile, Hotch waited inside a hotel for the lawyers, and yet neither showed up. Instead, a middle-aged woman approached him, shaking his hand firmly as she introduced herself. “Ellen Daniels. Bardwell Consulting. They called me to consult on the press releases. My firm specializes in strategic risk management for firms around the city.”

“So, you're a problem solver.”

“And we have a mutual one, don't we?”

“Do you know who this girl is?”

“No. Well, one of your clients might. That's the point.”

“Well, they're not gonna open up to either one of us about it.”

“Then they're putting themselves at risk.”

“Yes, I understand that, but you see, my hands are tied. None of these men are going to admit that they have a professional girlfriend.”

“I can subpoena their financial records.”

“Then I would have to file about a year's worth of injunctions to stall you. Now, who needs that kind of hassle?”

“Ms. Daniels, this is not a game. I need a phone number, if not of this particular girl, then someone like her, someone we can talk to.”

“No escort will agree to sit down with the FBI. But I have something better for you, assuming you might be willing to overlook certain legal niceties.” The lawyer reached into her purse, pulling out a card. “Do you want to buy a house?”

“No.” Hotch kept his face neutral, attempting to analyse what she was offering him. She forced the card in his hands and her heels clicked against the marble floor. Hotch dialled Spencer, detailing the address and instructions.

^-^

Piper waited for Spencer to stumble off her bike, grabbing his arm before he fell off the curb. “You okay?” Her question was muffled by the helmet. “It takes a little getting used to.” He straightened his cardigan while Piper unbuckled her helmet, latching it around her bike handle.

“You know, there were 4,462 motorbike fatalities this year alone,” he said, watching her clip her hair up. “There’s also a reported 80% chance of injury or death on a motorcycle in the event of an accident compared to 20% in passenger vehicles.”

“And motorcycles are about twice as fuel efficient as cars.” Piper unhooked her leg from the bike. “Also, they were a massive part of Allied strategy in World War 1.” Her mouth drew into a line as they surveyed the house up for sale. “So, we’re supposed to meet a madam here?”

“Actually, there's a lot of overlap between real estate and sex work. Property is a safe and inspection-Free investment for large sums of cash. Your brownstone used to be owned by a gigolo.”

“That’s comforting,” she murmured as a middle-aged woman approached the two. “Hi, beautiful day, isn’t it?” Piper beamed at the woman while Spencer looked at Piper confusedly.

“Sorry, are you—”

“Isn't this neighbourhood just fabulous?” The woman interrupted Spencer, and he looked almost injured by her reaction. “And you're gonna love this house.” As they walked into the house, she murmured something to them. “You two need lessons in faking it. I teach a class.”

“Uh, I'm... I'm sorry. I just... I want to be clear,” Piper murmured as soon as the three were alone. “You are a madam, right? You arrange dates for escorts?”

“All I arrange are meetings. What happens between two consenting adults when that meeting is over is something that I'm not liable for. Now... who wants a scone?” The woman beamed before walking over to the sitting room. Spencer made a face quite similar to a polite cat and they walked over. While Piper munched on her scone, Spencer asked her the preliminary questions about the unsub killing these men. “Oh, yes. We all know about this woman. She's terrible for business.”

“I guess there's only so many men that can, uh, afford the service you provide.”

“Well, that's certainly true. But the way she's behaving, she's only hurting herself.”

“And why is that?”

“An escort's client list Is the most important investment she has. It's her daily income and her retirement package when she sells the list.”

“So, she isn't working with a service, is she? No madam would allow an escort to kill off the clientele.”

“What about the, um, type of work your employees do?” Piper choked as a deep blush entered his cheeks. “We're sort of operating under the assumption that this escort is, um, killing men who... make her perform a... specific sexual act.”

“What did you have in mind, sweetie?”

“I... I don't even... I don't know.” Piper swallowed both the scone and her giggle.

“I think what my colleague is trying to say is,” Piper amended as Spencer’s voice faltered. “Why would a man pay an escort 5 figures if it was just for sex?”

“Of course, you've got to be good in bed to be successful. But that's the easy part. What men want more than the no strings attached sex is a therapist. Someone who will absorb the worst parts of their personalities.”

“If I got paid 5 figures to be a therapist, I would not be here,” Piper murmured. “So, she isn’t killing men because of the sex.”

“I can tell you that if the sex was the reason why she was killing these men, she would have broken long before she charged $10,000.”

“So, it isn't how these men act in bed, it's how they act out of it,” Spencer surmised. They thanked the woman and as they left, Spencer noticed Piper’s lips quivering. “Go ahead. Laugh at me.” Piper stubbornly shook her head; afraid a laugh would bubble out if she even opened her mouth. She settled herself on the bike and felt a small flutter as Spencer’s hands lightly rested on her hips.

“Ready?”

^-^

Piper and Spencer filled the team in on their findings and one by one as the hours slipped past, each went back to their hotel rooms. First was JJ and Emily who had been forced out by Hotch after an attempted paper ball war. Next was Derek and Rossi who were sick of drinking coffee. Spencer nudged Piper whose head was resting on her palm, eyes fluttering closed and she agreed to leave before noticing Hotch still inside. She let Spencer wait outside for a minute while she checked on Hotch. “Hey, boss? You wanna come back to the hotel with us?”

“No, but you go ahead.” Piper was divided. On the one hand, she deeply cared for her boss. On the other, she wanted to keep her job.

“Hotch, don’t make me bring Spencer here to spout statistics on sleep deprivation. C’mon, your work can wait till morning.” His pen faltered as he remembered a memory, back when he was a lawyer.

“Aaron, come back to bed,” Haley begged, wrapping two arms around his neck. He felt her lips brush his hair, then his cheek. “Don’t make me tease you.”

“Haley, I have to get this—” His excuses melted away as her lips reached his ear. “Hales—” Her lips brushed against his neck and he surrendered as her lips sucked along his jawline. He turned, pulling her into his lap as his lips met hers, the case file left aside. He rose, her legs wrapped around his waist as he lowered her onto the bed—

“Hotch… You there?” He looked up, eyes meeting Piper’s gaze.

“Yeah, let’s go.” He closed his file, getting up to leave when his phone rang. “Yeah…No, I’m still at the precinct…Okay, we’ll be right there.” He closed his cell, slipping it into his pocket while Piper gazed at him expectantly. “There’s been another murder.”

“Okay, should we call in the team?”

“We’ll wait. Anyone else still here?”

“Just you, me and Reid. SUV’s waiting outside.”

^-^

Piper felt sick as she observed the slightly chubby man stripped to his underwear limp in his chair, a lipstick mark on both eyes in the shape of an ‘X’. “Apparently he was the CFO here.”

“Poisoned and staged. So much for no signature,” Piper scoffed.

“The lipstick’s new. Done postmortem,” Reid noted. “She wants to be noticed.” They turned to observe the commotion near the taped off area. The man barged through, asking for Aaron Hotchner before introducing himself as Larry Bartlett.

“I represent Mr. Fielding in Webster Industries.”

“This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett.”

“Yes. I spoke to Ellen Daniels. She said you're a very reasonable man.”

“Escort him out, please.”

“No, wait. Please. The press is outside, and they can smell blood. Any way we can handle this discreetly?”

“We're not about to lie for you,” Piper voiced.

“You don't have to lie. Just don't comment.”

“Excuse us,” Hotch said as he pulled Piper and Spencer aside. “Is there any reason to go public yet?”

“Validating her is exactly what she wants,” Spencer advised.

“If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake,” Piper surmised.

“He doesn't need to know that.” Piper tried not to beam at Hotch, and they returned to the lawyer.

“We need everything you have on Fielding. Bank accounts, tax records, emails, everything.” He made a show of thinking about Hotch’s deal before shaking his hand. Hotch offered to drive but Piper waved him off, saying she wanted to enjoy the quiet night air.

Aaron drove the SUV back to the hotel and dragged himself to the hotel room, knees buckling at the sight of a bed and despite his best wishes, he was knocked out on the mattress, not even bothering to change. Down the corridor, Emily, Piper and JJ played cards on JJ’s double bed, refusing to let Spencer join for his card counting ability despite his eager protests. Instead, the boys played a few rounds of poker before going off to bed.

Piper walked into the precinct, chatting with JJ about Henry, but their conversation halted as she saw Spencer and Hotch drowning in mountains of files. “This…is everything?”

“Yep!” Spencer was way too cheerful for a job this menial. But she held her tongue, instead gratefully accepting Emily’s coffee. She dumped her bag and started with the first file.

“What are we looking for?”

“Essentially, anything that tells us why he was murdered.” They worked in silence as Spencer devoured the files, his brain working overtime. It was at times like these where Hotch really appreciated the little genius, but the more they worked, the more he noticed Piper’s discomfort in dealing with numbers. Even though he was meant to be analysing his victim’s financial behaviour, he couldn’t help analysing Piper’s fidgeting or how she kept biting her lip. He desperately wanted to shake her, to drill into her head that her numeracy skills, or rather the lack of them, weren’t why she was on the team. Instead, he grabbed the file she was holding and asked her to write up notations on their victim’s behaviour. A complicated mixture of relief and sadness descended on her as she grabbed a marker and moved to the board. 18 cars, 6 houses, and 3 boats. Half a million for a BatCave. But her pen faltered, and she whirled around to face them. A question was formed but never spoken. Instead she rummaged through files for recognisable documents. A smile graced her face as she pulled out four marriage documents as well as a few birth certificates. “How’d we miss those?” JJ laughed at Spencer’s bemused face.

“Because we weren’t looking for them,” Piper beamed. “Did he spend money on any of them? Alimony, child support, anything?” Hotch smiled before Garcia spoke up over the answering machine.

“You know, considering that when Kevin takes me to dinner and a movie, he defaults on his student loans, this amount of money is sick.”

“What did you find?”

“Well, all 3 of our dearly departed rich guys were embroiled in bitter court battles over how much to pay in alimony and child support, and even when the court ruled in the wife's favour, which was almost always, these 3 charmers just, you know, decided not to pay.”

“Garcia, can you generate a list of high-profile Dallas CEOs who are holding out on their ex-wives?”

“One loaded losers list, Dallas edition, comin' at ya. Penelope out.”

“So, why would a prominent businessman who could easily pay child support refuse to?” Emily asked the group from her seat opposite Hotch.

“For this type of overachieving personality, paying money after the marriage ends probably offends him,” Spencer noted, nodding sadly.

“They're spending tens of thousands on an escort, but they won't drop a dime on their wife and kids? That's cold.” JJ just shook her head.

“Narcissistic, self-absorbed, a pathological avoidance of paternal responsibilities,” Piper mused. “Meanwhile, most prostitutes come from broken homes, she's listening to pillow talk. Could serve as some sort of trigger.”

“How their ex-wives are cheating them out of money,” Hotch followed along. “How their kids are nagging them. Everything that these men take for granted and that she never had.”

“Well, should I assemble the police for a profile?”

“I just don't think it's gonna help. She lives in a completely different world than they do.”

“Same with the news-watching public,” Emily added. “And the CEOs who sleep with her won't admit to it.”

“Like I could even get past the team of lawyers protecting them.”

“What if we give the profile to the corporate lawyers?” The group looked at Piper and Hotch turned the thought over in his head.

“They've cleaned up after her, even if they don't realize that they've seen this woman. Because every time we've approached them, they've circled the wagons.”

“What makes you think this is going to be any different?”

“Because she's putting them at risk, too.”

^-^

The BAU was scattered around the large conference room as the lawyers gathered in the room, Ellen Daniels in front of them all. Poetically fitting, Piper thought as she leaned against the wall to ceiling window, watching Hotch start delivering their profile. “We're looking for a white woman between the ages of 25 and 30. She's paid between 10- and $15,000 per session, and she's very well versed in the world of money and privilege.”

“Even though she's a call girl, she doesn't look like one,” Emily continued. “She could pass as a businesswoman or a co-worker.”

“You've probably written up her personal expenses as losses. Shoes, jewellery, clothing. Your bosses pay her in cash, but they may also be paying her in other ways...” Spencer added. “Taking care of her, a new car, paying for her medical bills, even.”

“She probably didn’t grow up with a father figure, and she’s now turning that rage toward clients who walk out on their families,” Piper finished, waiting for a lawyer with a raised hand to ask their question.

“What's going to happen once this woman is caught?”

“She'll be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law,” Hotch answered.

“What about the other men she's sleeping with, the ones she doesn't kill? Will they be prosecuted?”

“Right now, we're concentrating on stopping her from killing again.”

“That's all well and good, but our employers are going to ask us about the risks involved in cooperating with an FBI investigation.”

“Tell your employers that the risk is not only a physical one. She's compromising privileged information as well. After she sleeps with these men, they talk to her. It's part of the release they get in seeing her.”

“All that dirty laundry you've worked so hard to cover up...” Emily continued. “She knows it. As long as she's out there, it's not just your clients that are vulnerable. Your firms are, too.” A young woman in the back raised her hand, stepping forward.

“Excuse me. I'm Allison Barnes. I'm a lawyer at Webster Industries where Joseph Fielding worked.” Her superior attempted to hush her but Hotch stepped in.

“We'd like to hear what she has to say. Go ahead, Ms. Barnes.”

“A while back, I, um, looked at some paperwork that Mr. Fielding filed about a penthouse downtown. I asked him what he'd be using it for, and he just kind of chuckled and said it was for a friend. Is that the kind of information you're looking for?” JJ stepped forward to ask if she had an address and as soon as they did, they moved quickly to the SUVs. Piper strapped on her vest as the others moved off in their SUVs and plugged the communications mic in her ear before starting her bike, roaring towards the hotel downtown. She skidded to a stop just next to Dave and Derek before hopping off and double checked her gear. She pocketed the keys as Hotch’s SUV pulled up and they moved in on the penthouse. They cleared the rooms quickly and Piper holstered her gun, walking over to the bookshelf. Meanwhile, Derek and Emily covered her bedroom.

“You got anything?”

“She’s too smart to leave receipts lying around.”

“Yeah. Ruins the mystique,” Derek scoffed as he opened the wardrobe. “She’s gotta be whatever the customer wants.”

“Hey, look at this.” He turned and walked over to Emily who stood near the vanity with a small ring. “There’s a lot of high-end jewellery here and then there’s this.”

“It’s way too small to be an adult’s,” Derek said, holding up the ring on his pinkie finger. She probably kept it from her childhood.”

“Oh, it's a purity ring.” Emily’s voice turned soft. “By wearing it, you promise to save yourself for marriage.”

“She broke that promise a long time ago.” Derek turned back to the wardrobe, smirking as he called out Emily’s name. She walked over as he held out the black leather lingerie to Emily’s body. “Got a whip?” Emily swatted him and walked outside to Piper who was engrossed in a leatherbound novel.

“You find something?”

“Yeah, antique first editions. Voltaire in French too. Lady’s got taste.” Piper looked up at Emily. “A serial killer, yes, but with great literary taste.”

“Anything else?”

“Umm… he was a spy for the French government for a brief period, but he wasn’t very good at it. Frederick the Great caught on very—”

“About the unsub, Piper?”

“Oh. Well, like I said. Good literary taste and she probably didn’t fake it. See the cracked spines. Definitely read it a few times.”

“Meaning she’s well-educated. Maybe even came from money the whole time.” The ring came from behind Emily and Piper tilted her body around her to see the machine ring before yelling for Hotch as a child would when they broke something. The team circled around the machine like it was the first time they’d seen one. Derek dialled Garcia. Emily stood by, letting the phone go to voicemail. The expected beep came and went, and an almost bored voice sang through the telephone.

“Aaron. I know you're up there. Pick up. Aaron Hotchner.” Without hesitation, he picked up.

“Hello?” The team couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation and so, as expected, the conversation became very confusing, very quickly. “I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, but I don't know yours. Can we start there? Who says you can't? No... it’s flattering to be noticed by a woman like you…But I've disappointed you, haven't I? Just like all the other men in your life who've walked out on their families, who deserve to be punished…No…my wife left me…I have a son…I try to see him every week…I try to see him every week…No, I don't get there as often as I want…How am I a whore?” Piper raised her eyebrows to Rossi who looked just as perplexed as she did. Derek urged Garcia to work faster, signalling that she needed more time. “But I'm just frustrating you, aren't I? Well, you want to show the world all these bad men and my investigation's just getting in your way… I'm only interested in finding you. You've been betrayed so many times, you don't know who to trust, and that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying. You know that's going to continue. Am I right?... Come to me and turn yourself in. I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear.” Hope swelled in Piper’s chest as Derek mouthed to Hotch. Just a little longer. But before he could utter another word, he heard a gunshot resound in the distance. “Hello?” But the line was dead, and so was someone else.

^-^

Piper paced in the penthouse while Spencer watched her. “Piper…”

“No. Someone else is dead and it’s—”

“It’s not your fault, Pipes.” She whirled around to face him.

“Isn’t it? It’s our responsibility to protect these people. Except people are dying and for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.” She breathed in deeply, trying not to cry. She walked out onto the balcony, gazing down at the people below.

“Sonder.” Piper looked at Spencer lean against the railing next to her, her honey brown eyes falling to his amber ones. “The realisation that each random passer-by is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.” Piper smiled softly. Only he could do that. “We’ll figure it out. As a team. Because that’s how we work best.” Piper closed her eyes, letting the wind whip at her hair. For just a moment, Spencer caught the exact snapshot of serenity, memorising it before it was over. She breathed in deeply then turned around to face Spencer, determination etched on her face.

“Can we listen to the audio?”

They huddled next to Piper’s laptop, listening intently to the unsub’s voice. “Her use of the word whore is interesting.”

“To say the least. I mean who looks at Hotch and goes, that’s a whore.” Spencer snorted quietly.

“I meant that it suggests she's trying to disassociate herself from her actions.”

“Except she's become more personal with the murders. She's changed her MO from poison to a gun.” Spencer nodded. “And she changed her victimology. Trent Rabner was faithful to his wife until she died. They didn't have kids.”

“Her whole justification for who's worth killing and who isn't is gone. She's obviously devolving,” Spencer noted, nodding.

“This is going to get ugly. She could go on a spree and take out anyone she sees as a target.” Spencer’s eyes glazed over, as they did when he thought too hard.

“The purity ring Emily found... she said it was tiny?”

“Only a little girl could wear it. She wouldn't buy that for herself. It was a gift.”

“Maybe she was given it by her father.”

“Well, if her father was anything like these CEOs, he probably walked out on her, too.” Spencer got up, starting to pace and Piper leaned back against the plush sofa as she watched.

“Ok, so, you're rich, you decide to start sleeping with men who are like your father to get back at him. How do you go about finding clients?”

“Could she have started with the service?”

“She wouldn't need to. Remember the madam said that she trains these girls how to act around these men? This unsub already knows how to do that.”

“She said something else, too. She said that your client list was like your 401k. You sell it when you retire. So maybe our unsub bought her client list from another call girl.”

“It makes sense. They're expensive names. Only someone who came from money could afford it.” Piper grabbed her cell to call Hotch, updating him on the new profile. She put the cell back in her pocket.

“Hotch will give us the address when he gets it from Daniels. Coffee?” The two packed their things and went downstairs to the café across the street.

Meanwhile, Hotch and Rossi glared down at Ellen Daniels who sat in the armchair in their office. “You're kidding.”

“You keep tabs on who your clients sleep with. You know who got out of the game,” Rossi stated bluntly.

“You're asking me to violate attorney-client privilege.”

“We're asking you to help us catch a killer.”

“Well, let's say that your profile is correct, and she is the daughter of my client. If I do this, I'm gonna need immunity on the back end.” Rossi looked to Hotch who was as grim as always. “Come on, boys, give it up. I mean, you two know how this game is played.”

“Yes, we do. So, here's the deal.” Hotch’s voice was calm and tempered, threat gently laced in his words. “Give us the information we want, or I'll arrest you on the spot for obstruction of justice. And while you're sitting in Dallas central booking waiting to make your one phone call, I'll have the entire white-collar division from the FBI here from Quantico, and they'll turn your offices upside down until we find what we want. That's my offer.” He grabbed the file on his desk and walked out, leaving Rossi with Ellen. Unwillingly, she gave him the address.

^-^

Piper let the helmet slide off her head, her hair wispy underneath. She tied it quickly with the elastic Spencer offered as they approached the door. They pulled out their badges simultaneously, asking for Katherine. Piper smiled at a little boy bounding over to his mother. “Oh, honey, go play with your toys, ok? Come in.”

“Thank you.” Piper and Spencer gave her the profile and Katherine sighed.

“Her name’s Megan. Megan Kane.”

“And her father was a client of yours?”

“Andrew. He was one of my 8 regulars. He's a VP at Ebbett Oil now, I think. I saw him for 6 years.”

“And does your son—”

“No. After I retired, I... wanted something good in my life.”

“6 years is a long time to see one call girl,” Spencer commented.

“Most men only have room for one affair at a time.”

“How did Megan know about you?”

“Andrew left his wife because of me. Of course, he... married someone else, but... I wasn't surprised.”

“You must have been surprised she wanted your list. Megan had all kinds of opportunities in life. Didn't you wonder why she wanted to follow your career path?”

“Megan didn't want to be a call girl. She wanted me to go away. She said that after I ruined her parents' marriage That I ruined her life, too. She bought my list so that nobody else would.” Piper nodded, getting up slowly.

“Thank you so much for all your help.” The little boy came running back, hugging his mother’s leg. Piper leaned down, gently bopping his nose. “Take care of your mom, she’s one in a million.” She straightened and they left the house.

By the time they returned to the precinct, they had a brief background of Megan. “So, here’s what we know,” Derek started as they returned. “Parents divorced 8 years ago. After the divorce, she travelled internationally.”

“We're not sure when she came back,” Emily continued. “But she kind of fell off the grid, which is easier to do when you're making tens of thousands of dollars a night.”

“Garcia put a trace on her father, communications, accounts, the whole nine.” JJ leaned back in her chair. “I also forwarded the picture to Dallas PD and upscale hotels,” she directed to Hotch who stared with startling recognition at the woman projected on the screen.

“I saw her 2 nights ago in the elevator of my hotel. Call Ebbett Oil. Tell Andrew Kane I need to meet with him as soon as possible.” Piper glanced at her wristwatch as Hotch left.

“Lunch anyone?”

“I know a place,” Rossi provided. He pulled out his own cell to put in an order. Hotch returned a few hours later and Piper pointed him over to a gnocchi dish on the table.

“We have a tail on Kane at his home and office,” Hotch updated through large bites of pasta.

“We sure this is gonna work?” Derek asked him.

“He knows where Megan is. He'll contact her. To protect his reputation if nothing else,” Hotch sighed deeply, finishing his lunch in a little under 4 minutes flat. While Derek timed Piper and Emily’s race on how fast they could finish their Cokes, Garcia called them with an update.

“Andrew Kane just reserved a room at the Wilmore Hotel, Room 2257 to be exact. Can I get an ick-ick-icky on making an appointment with your own daughter?”

“Megan won't show up until she's sure Kane's there,” Rossi added as Piper lost the race. Emily gave out a burp and JJ laughed, passing her a napkin. “Maybe we should’ve thought twice about adopting them.”

“You make it sound like it was a choice,” Aaron smirked before telling JJ to make sure nobody moved until they got there. Piper and Emily changed into their formal wear despite protests on Rossi not needing to change. His rebuttal was that he always wore Italian suits. There was nothing to change into. Emily switched into a stunning ruffled black dress with a single shoulder. Piper had learnt from her last undercover encounter and changed into a comfortable midnight blue wrap dress. She fixed her thigh holster, checking with Emily that it wasn’t visible. They drove together before walking separately to the hotel and settling casually into their positions. Hotch entered in his usual two-piece suit, eyes inconspicuously sliding from Rossi at the bar with a glass of whiskey, then Piper with her back to the corner with a champagne flute and as he made his way to the elevator, he glanced to Emily at the back entrance playing pool. He walked into the security room to find Spencer watching the front entrance far too closely than necessary. He sighed internally at the ineptitude of his two agents. Looks like Dave was right about that bet. “Reid, what do we have?”

“I haven't seen Kane or his daughter down here.”

“There's a lot of entrances. We could have missed one,” Hotch said pointedly and Spencer was smart enough to redden slightly.

“Um… Morgan’s waiting inside the hotel room.” As though on cue, his voice erupted irritably through the mics.

“Guys, he didn’t show up. Daniels did.”

“Derek, if you’re suggesting I had to wear this dress for nothing, I will—”

“Ah, c’mon angel. Not for nothing. Me and Pretty Ricky don’t always get to see you all dolled up.” Spencer blushed again and he watched Piper struggle to hold back a smile.

“You know what, Derek, I’m gonna go tell Penelope that you secretly hate her food and watch as she destroys you.”

“Ouch. You hurt me angel.” Spencer and Hotch left the hotel to the van, joined shortly by Daniels followed by Derek being whacked by Piper, then Emily and Rossi.

“There are 4 luxury hotels in the area that the unsub frequents,” Hotch noted to the team. “We could split up, but we'll go in blind.”

“Ivory marble,” Spencer added. “She mentioned it on the phone. The men who walk through the ivory marble foyer.”

“The Chase Regent,” Ellen piped up from behind.

“Are you sure?”

“Andrew liked it there.” Hotch started driving towards the Chase Regent, navigated by Spencer who yelled out directions. They got there too late, the van pulling up to the hotel as JJ organised a perimeter from their base. They split into pairs, Bishop and Reid with logistics, the rest dividing into two groups taking the floors one by one from top to bottom. By the fifth room, Derek kicked the door in while Hotch raised his firearm, dropping it to his side at the sight of the petite blonde sitting placidly on a lounge chair in the balcony, an empty champagne flute next to her.

“We’re too late,” Morgan said and Hotch walked over to the young woman.

“Nothing will change,” she said, unprompted as Hotch walked over. “They'll just go back to doing whatever they want and keep getting away with it.”

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

“Who was it who said, "you don't pay a prostitute for sex, you pay her to leave afterwards"?”

“It was Dashiell Hammett.”

“It doesn't make sense. The men always leave first.” She sighed deeply, handing over a SIM card to Hotch. “I'd give anything to see his face right now.” Hotch took it, holding her hand. “How could your wife have ever left someone like you? You're the first man I ever met who didn't let me down.” She turned to him. “Will you stay with me?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” And so, he held her hand as it went limp in his.

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bitchinlyras · 7 years

Text

there was light in your eyes (and paint on your nose)

a lucaya coffee shop au for the wonderful @kirayukimuras!! i love you danana and hope you have a good day back at school💖 alternatively read on ao3

Maya Hart comes barrelling into John & Abigail’s Coffee Shop, just as the rain begins to thunder down. She stops in the shop front, and turns to stare at the storm that has so suddenly appeared, shocked that she’s just escaped it.

She joins the line, and takes her phone out of her pocket to check the time — 10:30AM. She’s supposed to be at the school by 11AM for the Saturday painting class she runs; she’s cutting it fine, but as long as the coffee doesn’t take too long and she doesn’t drown in the completely unforecasted torrential downpour, she should be fine.

“Just a large latte, please,” she tells the girl behind the counter once it’s her turn.

“Sure thing, name?”

“Maya,”

“That’ll be three dollars, thank you,”

Maya hands over the money, and stands to the side, bumping into the guy who’d been in front of her in the queue.

“S— Sorry,” she says hurriedly, doing a double take as she looks at him properly, because, well, he’s rather attractive, with muscular arms and tanned skin and light brown hair that looks like it’s been bleached from sun.

She turns away, as he catches her staring, and stands next to him, her cheeks turning slightly pink. She can see him smirking out of the corner of her eye, and if she weren’t so embarrassed for quite obviously checking him out, she’d say something.

Brilliant Maya, she thinks to herself, just what you needed to do, boost a man’s — presumably already large — ego.

She shifts from foot to foot next to him, wondering if it’s just her, or did it suddenly get hot in here? A glance at the foggy windows confirms, that is in fact, the shop.

“Lucas, Maya,” calls out the barista, placing two coffees on the counter.

Maya snatches up the closest one to her, and walks swiftly to the door, mentally preparing herself to walk three blocks through the bucketing rain.

“Maya?” calls out a voice hesitantly. “Maya!” it calls out more urgently.

Maya turns around to see the guy from before, holding out a coffee.

“What?” she asks, though it comes out ruder than she means. She’s just in a rush and doesn’t need this right now. The class starts at eleven, but really she should be there now to set up.

“Um, you took my coffee,” he says, hesitant again, and slightly scared, as if worried she’s going to snap at him again.

“Oh!” she looks down at the coffee in her hand, and sure enough it says 'Lucas' on the side, not 'Maya'.

“I’m sorry, I’m just... I’m— I’m in a rush,” she stumbles over her words as they trade coffees, her cheeks flushing again (from the heat of the shop, she tries to persuade herself).

“It’s okay,” he replies with a shrug, and she can hear the hint of a texan accent and smiles to herself.

There’s a beat, filled with the low chatter of others in the coffee shop, before Maya raises her coffee to him. “Well thanks, I should, um, be going,”

He watches as she opens the door and braces, building up the nerve to run through the rain (if you run you won’t get as wet, at least that’s what her best friend Riley always says).

He laughs, and stands next to her. Her eyes are shut, and there is a wrinkle of concentration across her brow. She’s very cute. And the purple paint on her nose only adds to that.

He opens his umbrella with a flourish, and Maya opens her eyes, staring at him, opened mouthed.

“Where ya going?” he asks.

“You don’t have to do this,” she tells him. “It’s only three blocks, I’ll be fine,”

“Only three blocks?” he says breezily, “perfect, hardly puts a dent in my morning routine at all.

Maya can’t help but smile.

“So is this what you do all the time, Maya?” Lucas asks, as they walk side by side under the umbrella, the rain making a satisfying sound as it hits the umbrella.

“Do what?”

“Take men’s coffees and then con them into walking you places?” he teases.

She lets out a mock offended gasp. “You’re the one who offered, Huckleberry,”

He raises an eyebrow. “Huckleberry?”

“Yeah, Huckleberry ,” she emphasises it, grinning cheekily.

He shows her his coffee cup. “It says 'Lucas',”

She rolls her eyes playfully, “Stupid baristas, always getting it wrong,” she looks up at him, and laughs as she catches his eye. “Don’t worry, Ranger Rick, I’m sure they’ll get it one day,”

He stares at her in wonder as she laughs, her nose scrunching up.

“So what else do you do,” he asks, “y’know, when you’re not taking taking other people’s coffee,”

“I’m an art teacher, at John Adams Middle School, that’s where I’m going right now,”

“You do realise it’s a Saturday, right?”

“Yes, I do, Huckleberry,” she replies, another playful roll of the eyes, “I run a communal painting class there on Saturdays,”

He smiles, “That sounds pretty cool,”

She looks up at him, “Thanks,”

They walk in silence, sipping their coffees and listening to the rain. Maya imagines how it looks, big silvery droplets bouncing off the umbrella; the umbrella weaving them a path through the sea of rain, the buildings like coral that had lost its colour, and they like fish, passing through the ocean forest.

“What about you?” Maya asks after the moment of comfortable silence, “What do you do?’

“I’m actually a writer,” he tells her.

She looks at him in surprise. “Really? Would not have pegged you as that, Huckleberry,”

He fiddles absent mindly with the lid of his coffee cup. “Yeah, I went to veterinary school, and I don’t know, it just didn’t work out… but I’m actually on my way to talk to my publisher about my first book,”

Maya grins. “Wow, that’s amazing,” before adding in a worried voice, “I’m not making you late, am I?”

“No, the meeting’s not till midday, I just had to get out of the apartment to calm my nerves,”

“Not exactly the best weather for a walk,” Maya laughs, motioning to the rain.

“This is exactly how I like it, we don’t get rain like this in Texas,”

“Oh my gosh,” Maya says sarcastically, “you’re from Texas?! I never would’ve guessed!”

Lucas laughs. “It’s the accent, right?”

“Definitely didn’t help,”

“Well, you got a pretty strong New York accent yourself!”

“And I wear that like a badge of honour!”

“Say ‘fuhgeddaboudit’,” he coaxes her, grinning.

“Not a chance, Huckleberry,”

They both laugh, catching each other’s eye. It’s amazing how easy it is to talk, to laugh, to just be together. It’s like they’ve known each other forever.

“What’s the book called?” Maya asks him, once the laughter’s abated.

“The book?”

A roll of the eyes. “Your book.”

“It doesn’t really have a name, as of yet,”

“No name? How will I know which book to buy?”

“You’re gonna buy it?” he can’t help but smile at that.

“Well I gotta repay you somehow, Huckleberry - at least tell me what’s it about.”

“Um, it’s about a veterinarian, actually, turns out I’m better at writing them than being them. It’s about the relationship that he develops with the animals, and what happens when he finds out he has a daughter,” something flashes in Maya’s eyes and Lucas stops talking. “Are you okay?” he asks after a moment.

“Yeah, I’m fine, the whole surprise daughter thing, that’ll make a good story,” she insists, but there’s a falseness to her voice.

“Yeah, well, he lives in this small texan town, and she’s from New York, and the whole thing just changes his life,”

“Right,” Maya murmurs, kicking a small stone on the pavement, “his life.”

Lucas looks at her, concerned. “I’m sorry, did I… did I say something, I didn’t mean to,” he says gently.

Maya sighs and shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry,” she says genuinely, “it sounds like a good book, Lucas, it really does, absent fathers… they’re just a bit of a sore spot with me, that’s all.” she tells him truthfully.

“Well, I think you’ll really like the end of the book then,” he tells her.

She smiles slyly, and mischievousness as worked its way back into her voice. “Is that your way of getting me to buy the book, don’t need to do a sales pitch on me, I’m already buying a copy.”

“Well at least I know it’ll sell at least one copy,”

She grins at him, before pointing at the building next to them.

John Adams Middle School.

“Well this is me, thanks, Huckleberry,”

He smiles. “No worries, Maya,”

“And I’ll look out for that book, by Lucas…”

“Friar.”

“Lucas Friar, cute name, Huckleberry,” she says, and he laughs.

She ducks out from under the umbrella and hops up the first couple of steps.

“Hey, Maya!” Lucas calls out, and Maya stops in her tracks, turning to face him.

“Maya what?” he asks her.

“Penelope Hart,” she replies,

“Penelope?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t you start, Huckleberry!” she warns, unable to hold back her grin.

“Maya Penelope Hart, would you like to meet for coffee tomorrow? John & Abigail’s?” he asks, a slight nervousness to his voice.

She’s really unable to hold back her smile this time. It’s wide and goofy, and her eyes are sparkling. “Yeah,” she nods, “I would love that,”

“Eleven?” Lucas asks, grinning himself.

“I’ll see you then,” she beams, and they stare at each other for a moment, both practically bursting with happiness, before Maya gives him a little wave, and turns to walk up the rest of the steps.

“Penelope?” he calls out, and she turns around, a playful challenge on her face.

“Yes, Friar?”

“You have some paint on your nose,”

Maya rubs her nose and, sure enough, purple paint comes off. She stares at him incredulously, completely speechless.

He grins at her, taking her silent reaction to mean he’s won. He tips an imaginary hat. “Ma’am,” he says in the strongest southern accent he can manage, before walking away, a spring in his step.

Maya watches him go, an eventual smile working its way onto her face.

That evening she paints a picture of a coral jungle and a deep blue sea, with fish of many colours swimming between the coral buildings. At the very bottom of the painting is a small black umbrella, and underneath it, a couple kissing.

She’ll show it to Lucas one day, she promises herself, as she sits back and admires her artwork, paint on her nose again (blue this time).

And she does, it just happens to be three years later on their wedding day.

#gmw #lucaya #lucaya fanfiction #gmw fanfic #girl meets world #lucas x maya #mywriting #otp: power couple of the world #lucas friar #maya hart

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briannaslist · 7 years

Text

Chapter 10: The Lost Weekend

A Riverdale Recap

I’m going off of memory for this one, instead of my notes, so I’m probably going to miss some stuff. Sorry in advance.

It’s Jughead’s birthday and Jughead hates his birthday. That’s essentially the whole episode. He likes it as low-key as possible. He and Archie check out whatever double feature is at the movie theater and he’s content.

Archie decides to tell Betty about it being Jughead’s birthday. His girlfriend does not even know, that’s how much Jughead does not like his birthday. The group gets together for lunch (sans Jughead for some reason). Chuck is back at school and the group just kind of stares him down in this Pretty Little Liars-esque way. Totally forgot about Chuck and his suspension. How long was he suspended? Was it a week or so? Is that really all the time that has passed these few episodes? At this rate the show could go ten seasons. Anyway, the last we saw and heard of Chuck, Jughead was saying in his narration that there would be a fallout soon to come from the justice that Betty and Veronica got on him; I guess this is that episode.

So they all watch Chuck come in and head straight for Ethel’s table. Ethel is sitting there alone and Chuck sits across from her. None of the core group like the look of that, so Betty goes over there to see what’s up. But when she walks over there, things are very strange. Chuck says he’s just there to apologize and Ethel brushes off the concern. The whole thing looks so sketchy. Betty goes back to her table.

Betty brings up Jughead’s birthday and suggests that they have a surprise party. Archie immediately shakes his head and says “No, not a good idea. I told you before he hates his birthday.” And Betty’s like, “Well let’s make him like his birthday. He’s never had a birthday party and we should do this for him.” And Archie still is like, adamantly against this. Meanwhile Veronica is all, “Oh I’m so in, I have a cute new dress I want to wear,” and Kevin is like, “No one who says they hate their birthday and surprises actually means that; he totally wants a party.” Kids, if someone tells you that they do not like parties, surprises, or their birthday, then respect that; if they’re lying to “test” you with mind-games, then that is even more reason not to do it. Archie actually agrees to it despite spending that whole time saying that it was a bad idea. Archie can’t even listen to his own cautions. I’m so disappointed; I was really proud of him up until that point. Now I’m going to be mad at him for the duration of the episode.

Switching gears to Ronnie’s Rotten Life –At some point, Archie tells Veronica what he heard Cliff and Penelope Blossom saying about being the reason Hiram is in jail at all. Veronica feels she needs to get her revenge somewhere, so she goes with Cheryl – the one person who couldn’t have done anything.

When Veronica gets to cheerleading practice, she and Cheryl have a confrontation that leads to a “dance off”. Nothing about this dance off makes any sense; it’s actually quite bad. I felt embarrassed to watch this. These don’t look like dance moves for any cheer routine ever. They’re both moving very slowly and the moves are way too over-the-top sexual for any high school team. The River Vixens vote on who they would rather have lead the routine and predictably pick Veronica. What’s more surprising is that Betty is still a member of the River Vixens. Here I thought she quit after the second episode.

Cheryl is really pissed about getting upstaged and not having anyone vote for her. She “fires” her two right-hand minions and goes about her own revenge. This leads to her approaching Chuck for a team up. While she admits that she thinks he’s vile, she knows he can help her.

Meanwhile, Veronica and Hermione go to the lawyer to talk about Hiram’s case. Veronica is privately informed that if she doesn’t testify for her dad, then her mom may be implicated; this is a message from Hiram himself, so Veronica is understandably very upset.

The surprise party is being held at the Andrews’ because Fred is in Chicago with Archie’s mom, working on their divorce. Archie, Kevin, Joaquin, and Ethel are inside. When Ethel hears someone outside, she assumes it’s Jughead and Betty returning from their movie and yells “Surprise!” when the door opens. But it’s Veronica all in a pissy mood. Moments later, Jughead and Betty actually do arrive, and Jughead clearly isn’t happy about this. He’s very uncomfortable. In fact, his behavior and words even suggests that he only puts up with the other members of his friend group because of Betty and Archie. I’m convinced Jughead does not care for more than half of the people in this room.

Oh! Also, Archie is in a bit of a mood too about the divorce. His parents have been separated for two years and he even said he’s not really upset about them moving on, but he’s feeling some weirdness. So he snuck a drink. And when Veronica came in, she also snuck into the liquor cabinet because of her bad mood. Cause why not? When Archie hugs Jughead, Jughead can immediately tell that Archie has been drinking, making things even more uncomfortable. Basically, the entire episode is awkward. There’s just too much tension.

Betty gets Jughead’s cake, which is shaped like a burger, and walks out singing happy birthday. Jughead tells her that her singing was haunting and she says to make a wish. He whispers to her that he wishes it was just the two of them and blows out the candles. Veronica walks off to the kitchen to cry about her life and Archie follows her.

Veronica tells Archie what happened and he hugs her. She says she’s not in a party mood. Yeah, neither is the guest of honor, so why the fuck did you come? If you don’t feel like a party, then don’t go to the party; Jughead would not miss you. Things then get worse as the doorbell rings. Archie opens the door to see Chuck and Cheryl with a crowd behind them. You know, because on TV everyone shows up to the party at the same time. Moose asks Archie where he wants the keys and Archie says, “Screw it, one in living room, one in the backyard.”

“Screw it, one in living room, one in the backyard,” he said, about a party for his best friend that he knew the friend did not want. Jughead wasn’t even happy with like seven people there; he sure as hell is not going to be comfortable with a full party. Also, Chuck and Cheryl’s entire plan hinged on Archie saying to come into his house? What if Archie hit his head and was being smart that day and said, “Nah, go away?” Would they then say, “Aw, revenge plan over?” and cut their losses. What a weird plan.

Jughead hangs out in the garage with Archie’s dog. F.P. finds him in there and gives him a gift. Note: Betty called F.P. to invite him to the party and F.P. also said that it was a terrible idea. It couldn’t have been stressed to her enough not to do this. F.P. wanted to at least come show Jughead he cared and hey, a gift! Jughead tells him where Betty was collecting the gifts and F.P. leaves to add his, saying he’ll be right back. Though it would make sense to leave the gift with Jughead instead of in some unsupervised location surrounded by drunk teenagers.

F.P. goes inside the house and sees Joaquin and Kevin kissing. He makes a comment about young love and then asks to talk to Joaquin. F.P. and Joaquin go upstairs to talk in Archie’s room. Across the street, Alice Cooper is in Betty’s room and is watching them talk. Joaquin gives F.P. the update on everything the group knows and F.P. says they’re more informed than the sheriff is and that he needs to stick around to see what else they know.

Archie is outside, very drunk, and is trying to talk to Valerie. But Val keeps rebuking him and saying she doesn’t want to talk. However, Archie’s whole goal is to get Valerie back. At one point, he even went into the garage to talk to moody Jughead about whether he thought Val would take him back; didn’t even care about his friend being upset. Anyway, he’s too persistent and Val is like, “what the hell is your problem” and she throws her drink on him. Archie is embarrassed and upset so he goes upstairs and calls his dad.

Betty goes to talk to Jughead and he’s pretty much had enough at this point. He reiterates that he didn’t want a party and she tries to tell him that she didn’t know all of those people were going to show up; however, she also doesn’t understand what the big deal was anyway and doesn’t get why he doesn’t enjoy any of this. Gee, maybe it’s because some people don’t like parties or crowds or when their wishes are ignored? Some people honestly just want to do something simple with few to no people. It’s like when some couples take separate vacations or travel without their kids. It’s nice to be alone. But because Jughead is upset, he decides to hit where it hurts.

So Jughead accuses Betty of throwing the party to boost her own ego about being a good girlfriend or whatever. He says the people out there are not his friends and don’t even like him. He says he doesn’t fit in and that he’s weird and it makes no sense for them to even be dating because they’re too different, from personality to social class. Then he asks if she even likes him or if she’s just using him to pass the time until Archie decides he likes her back. Just, all the insecurities in one fell swoop. He went a bit too far in all of that; Betty should have been more mindful, but she didn’t deserve that. Betty’s hurt, he’s hurt, and she walks out. Then he goes into the house, through the kitchen, and tries to leave the party.

However, he cannot leave the house because Chuck comes and blocks his way. Never mind that F.P. is standing right there and can demand that Chuck let his son out of the house; never mind that Jughead came inside of the house through the back door and could just walk out that way. Never mind that Jughead has nothing to do with anyone else’s vendetta. Nope, he’s stuck forever as Cheryl locks the door from the inside. She suggests they all play a game. And everyone goes along with it!

They all congregate in the living room, Jughead included, to play a secret-revealing game. And F.P. hasn’t done anything about this because he needs to see what everyone knows. And it appears that no one is concerned about this adult at the high school party. Dilton Doiley of all people jumps in, due to being drunk. He says that he saw Grundy’s car at Sweetwater River the morning of July 4th; everyone immediately puts it together that Archie was screwing Ms. Grundy. Perceptive teenagers.

Cheryl goes next and goes after Veronica, so Veronica comes back with Cheryl potentially being jealous of Polly because she loved Jason a little too much; feelings that a sister shouldn’t have. I cannot believe they actually addressed the weirdness of the relationship between the Blossom twins. At this point, Cheryl has basically played herself. Chuck decides to go after Betty and talks about how she dressed all sexy and tortured him in the hot tub with maple syrup and then tries to get in Jughead’s face about Betty being a “psycho”. Jughead has had enough, so he punches Chuck and the two get into a fight. Someone should have punched Chuck long ago. And you know what, same for Cheryl. F.P. breaks up the fight and declares the party over.

Everyone is leaving Archie’s house and Jughead tries to dip out too, but F.P. stops him and tells him to go back inside and talk to Betty. Jughead goes back in and Alice comes across the street to be confrontational with F.P. This woman is incapable of being cordial with any adult. She says that she doesn’t want him in her neighborhood and F.P. tells her she’s still hot, but it’s a shame about her personality; then he alludes to her being from the Southside. Oooh! Wait, I want to know more about this one. I want a flashback episode about all the adults, played by the younger cast.

Betty and Jughead go to Pop’s and have a mature conversation where they work out their differences. She reveals her anger issues and shows him the healing cuts on her palms from when she was angrily clenching her fists when talking to Chuck earlier at school. They have a new understanding; my goodness an actual teen relationship portrayed with maturity.

Archie and Veronica talk about their personal problems; he tells her that he called his dad to ask him not to get divorced even though he doesn’t really care about that happening. Veronica shares her family concerns too and they end up kissing. The next morning Veronica wakes up in Archie’s bed and sees Archie asleep on Jughead’s air mattress. So... where did Jughead sleep? Veronica gives Archie a kiss on the forehead and sees Jughead eating his cake on her way out. I love that he’s having cake for breakfast. Jughead gives her a knowing look and they exchange a smile.

Veronica decides to testify for her father and as a “thank you” gift from him, she receives new pearls. But she clearly still feels uneasy about the whole situation. Meanwhile, Archie is cleaning up the kitchen while Jughead is still eating his cake. Jughead asks about Veronica and Archie just kinda has this happy smile. Valerie who? Jughead promises not to say anything about Veronica staying there overnight. Then Archie’s dad comes home, with his mom in tow.

But most importantly – what was Jughead’s gift from F.P.?

#riverdale #riverdale 1x10 #riverdale recap #tv recaps #riverdale1

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