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melis-writes · 2 years

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Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 40 – Legacies.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 39 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"I promised her if she ever provoked my family again, I would help her bandmates search for her body." / “You’re a Corleone and you will behave like a Corleone."

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas and with a steady eagerness to rid the Corleone family of Fredo's legacy a year after his death, neither you nor Michael have any regrets. Provoking you means provoking both the Corleone and Ferrari families and you've merely added Rita Duvall's timely death as another skeleton in your closet. Leaving legacies behind but not the past, Michael reminds Sonny who the head of the family is and where his trust is misplaced in his older brother. There is no longer any room for mistakes in the Corleone family, but bloodsheds and secret are welcome.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions and depictions of death, violence & blood / Oral sex / Heavy smut -> unprotected sex, creampie / Mentions and themes of sex & nudity.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The next chapter is here and ready to explore the cunning side of Mrs. Victoria Corleone. 🥴 Since Part II is action, angst, smut and fluff packed, I'm making a habit of keeping chapters short (but not too short!) to explore one theme/plot at a time. ❤️ We get to see the before, after, and everything in between! Ahem and yes, that includes some quality time spent with Michael on that plush, king sized hotel bed... 😌 We can ignore the atrocities for the smut. 😂💀

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

Despite being almost notorious for her slyness, attitude, and promiscuous talk, Rita never imagined like some of her coworkers did that her mouth would ever lead her to any serious trouble, let alone her death.

With the split-second feel of a cold, razor-sharp blade against her throat, every passing moment from the very minute thick, crimson blood began to spew from Rita’s neck that reminded her she was alive despite being on the verge of inevitable death, were just gifts you gave her.

Every breath Rita took to brag about planning to blackmail you was another gift you gave her’ provoked and already sealed Rita’s fate in the back of your mind.

Rita was hopeless from the beginning but helpless as soon as her body hit the ground. Holding her hand to her neck, Rita knew it wouldn’t help her or prevent her death which came just a minute after bleeding out to death on the floor.

The last voice and words Rita heard were yours, and you were also the last person she’d ever see again.

You stare down at Rita with disappointment and disgust over your expression, remaining still. For a moment, you neither move nor take your eyes off Rita’s motionless body, ensuring to yourself that she’s actually dead.

“You should thank me, sweetheart,” you murmur down to Rita’s corpse. “Had I not put you out of your misery just now, a mafiosi would have. This befits you.” You glance at the blade in your hand, still firmly holding it but carefully so that your fingers are over the top of the fabric of your coat so as not to leave any prints behind.

With one swift movement, you flick the blade toward Rita’s face—watching the last bits of blood dripping from the blade splatter over her face.

Just on time as you planned, you hear a soft knock come from the door behind you.

“Come in,” you answer casually, expecting someone.

The door slowly and quietly opens, revealing your bodyguard Ritchie who slips in and is quick to shut the door behind him immediately. “Mrs. Corleone.” Ritchie clasps his gloved hands in front of him, waiting for further orders.

Of course, your bodyguard naturally followed you since you left the hotel, but your orders were for Ritchie to take an alternative route so he could keep an eye on you but not be seen by anyone else or come too close to raise suspicion.

Ritchie didn’t need to ask questions or assume your motives; he’s a made mafioso and has accompanied Clemenza as a bodyguard in the past—seeing him enter buildings silently and leave a corpse behind one too many times.

Ritchie’s job now remains the same; he’s to protect you, support you and conceal you regardless of the circumstances.

“She’s dead,” you point out, taking a step back from Rita’s body.

Ritchie’s eyes gaze over Rita’s slit throat and her dead eyes wide open, frozen in time. He simply gives a nod, understanding. “Would you like me to make it look like an accident or suicide?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” you carefully hand Ritchie the blade between your fingers. “I made Miss Duvall a promise once,” you glance back at Rita’s body over your shoulder—first at her face, then her abdomen. “I promised her if she ever provoked my family again, I would help her bandmates search for her body and I intend to keep my word.” You gesture to Rita’s corpse, “she loved the company of the Tattaglias and Barzinis for years now. Word of a prostitute like her winding up dead doesn’t make the news, especially one who prefers to seduce married mafiosi. We’ll give her the Barzini and Tattaglia treatment she loved so much. You know how they liked to send their messages, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Corleone,” Ritchie nods.

“Good,” you brush off your hands on your jacket. “The swamp will handle the rest.”

A common tactic used to depose bodies by many mafiosi families such as the Barzinis but particularly the Tattaglias sends a clear enough message to those willing to search for the “missing” unlucky individual.

Thrown into the swamp to let the alligators and nature destroy and decay evidence away, full remains are almost never found, and the ones that are become extremely difficult to identify or link to the actual killer.

The thick, muddy, and murky waters of the swamp do away with washing off the skin and evidence on it if there is any, and only mafiosi acquainted with the body disposal tactic know the clear message it gives.

Nobody can possibly trace Rita’s murder back to you under these circumstances, let alone pin the murder on you, the Ferraris, or the Corleones who have rarely ever used such a tactic.

Rita’s bandmates and the police can search wherever they believe Rita often visits and is found, but searching at the bottom of a muddy swamp will never come to mind, let alone to fruition.

‘I warned you, Rita Duvall.’ As if it has any importance, to begin with, March 4th, 1956 marks the death of Vegas showgirl, prostitute, and singer Rita Duvall by your hands.

“I’ll make it back to the hotel on my own,” you move to exit without another glance back or word said.

There’s no need to repeat or clarify instructions to Ritchie, let alone tell him to be quiet and discreet.

More than merely competent as both a bodyguard and mafioso himself, Ritchie stares down at the body of Rita as you exit out of her room, envisioning how he’ll stuff her body into a garbage bag first.

Calm, collected, and relaxed, you make your way down the hallway of the brothel toward the exit as if you own it.

You can’t possibly care less about who or what is around you, let alone if anyone else is here to see you.

Even when you pass by the same prostitute you saw and asked where Rita was when you got to the brothel, you come to notice she’s resting against the wall smoking a half-burnt cigarette while nodding off on some high with her eyes closed.

Smoothening out your jacket, you walk out of the brothel’s back entrance and continue towards the hotel as if nothing had happened.

In the meantime, Ritchie opens up a garbage bag and sets it by Rita’s feet before he begins to pull at her thighs and drag her towards the garbage bag.

Shoving Rita’s body inside the garbage bag in a fetus-like position without any care of broken bones or how the shape appears over the bag, Ritchie proceeds to triple wrap Rita in two more black garbage bags to prevent any smell or blood leaking from it.

As you make it to the hotel’s entrance, Ritchie’s already hauling Rita’s body out the side entrance—conveniently remaining completely secluded.

The car Ritchie brought over is parked just a few feet from the side entrance and with a fake license plate so as not to be traced.

Ritchie opens up the trunk of his vehicle and tosses Rita’s body into it before locking up the trunk and getting into his car.

Going past reception in the hotel and taking the elevator, you unbutton your jacket and hum quietly to yourself, thinking now it won’t be long until Michael returns and that you’ve returned to the hotel suite before he has without a doubt.

As you unlock the door to your suite and take a step inside, you can practically feel the sense of relaxation wash over you again.

With your mind on nothing but getting cozy and waiting for Michael to return for the night, you shut the door behind you and notice nothing out of the ordinary in the suite and certainly no signs of Michael’s return yet.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a tray placed over the top of one of the dressers by the door holding a bottle of chilled champagne in a bucket of ice, and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries with a card that reads “for room service over it”.

A pleased smile breaks out on your lips as you pop one of the chocolate-covered strawberries in your mouth, welcoming the taste of sweet milk chocolate over your tongue.

Hanging up your jacket on the coat rack and taking off your shoes, you certainly don’t have any intention of telling Michael what you did, let alone that you left the suite room.

Picking up the tray and setting it over the nightstand instead, you strip back into your silky nightgown and let out a deep sigh of relief, getting ready to truly enjoy your night.

You move towards the television, adjusting it to put on a film for background noise when you peek your head up to hear the suite door opening.

Michael steps into the suite, spotting you first thing and causing you to blush instantly.

“Hi, baby,” you greet, rising to your feet.

“Hello, darling,” Michael shuts and locks the suite door behind him. “Did I keep you waiting too long?”

“Just a little,” you tease, turning down the television volume and beginning to approach your husband. “How was everything? All in order?”

“Fine,” Michael lets out a sigh of annoyance, taking off his shoes. “As I mentioned before, we could have dealt with this much earlier but at least now all the paperwork is in order. Neither of us will need to waste any more time here than we already have.”

“Mmhmm,” you wrap your arms lovingly around your husband’s shoulders. “Thankfully too. I think we’re both homesick as is from all of this but you didn’t leave here so tense, baby.” You begin to tenderly massage Michael’s shoulder muscles.

“I suppose not, darling,” Michael pecks your lips sweetly as you step behind him, taking his suit jacket off.

“You intended on relaxing after your shower, right baby? You can do so,” you gesture to the tray of champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. “Courtesy of room service.”

“I appreciate it, sweetheart,” Michael loosens his tie, pulling it over his head. “Even if somebody’s dying, I’m not dealing with anything Fredo caused further this evening.”

“Fair,” you smile back, kneeling on the bed.

Approaching the nightstand, Michael eyes the bottle of champagne, then looks back at you as you sit on the bed expectantly.

“Join me?” You offer.

Michael moves over to caress your face lovingly, admiring your smile and using his free hand to unbutton his dress shirt. “Absolutely. Give me a moment here, baby.”

Just as Michael pulls back and turns around to hang up his clothes, you sit cross-legged on the center of the bed and eagerly watch your husband begin to undress before you.

Just the sight of Michael’s back and shoulder muscles creasing as he pulls off his dress shirt is more than enough to pump arousal through you.

Shirtless and only in a pair of black trousers, Michael runs a hand through his hair and grabs a hanger for his dress shirt, but you don’t waste any time waiting for Michael to turn back to you either.

You slip down the straps of your nightgown and let the fabric fall off your shoulders, exposing your breasts as you patiently wait for Michael.

“So,” Michael speaks up, about to ask how you spent your time or if you’re comfortable and enjoying the hotel, but the moment he turns around, Michael meets your passionate gaze and an inviting scene before him.

“So?” You ask, softening your tone down to a whisper.

Michael’s gaze lingers over you, moving down to your breasts and noticing the teasing, insistent look in your eyes and provocative body language emanating from you.

“I missed you,” you lick your lips, pressing your breasts together. “Can you blame me?”

“Not at all,” Michael murmurs, tugging off his leather belt. “You were looking forward to this, weren’t you?”

“Were you?” You smirk, leaning up and letting the nightgown slip further down your chest as your breasts jiggle from the movement.

Michael’s eyes still remain over you, unable to get enough of the seductive, sexy sight of your teasing let alone how your breasts are still plump and swollen with breast milk—having gone up two more cup sizes since you had the twins.

“You know I was,” Michael lets his belt fall to the floor as he leans over you on the bed, placing his hands over your nightgown loosely remaining by your hips.

“Good,” you breathe before an erotic silence befalls the two of you.

Michael tugs off your nightgown and slips it off your thighs, tossing it over the bedpost.

Completely naked underneath without even a pair of panties, you eagerly spread your legs in front of Michael and let your hands rest over the duvet.

Keeping his eyes locked on yours, Michael moves down closer towards you and cups your inner thighs—massaging them before letting his hands wander further between your legs.

“Eat,” you whisper out, tugging on Michael’s silky, dark hair.

“As you wish, darling.” Michael’s hands immediately come down to cup your ass before he leans in, positioning his face between your legs.

Resting your ankles over Michael’s shoulders, you let out a tiny whimper feeling his breath directly over your clit and his lips only a few centimeters away from your pussy.

Michael’s eyes meet yours once more before he pulls you down closer to his face by your thighs, squeezing your ass and burying his face into your pussy in an instant.

“M-Michael, ohhhh…!” You let out a soft whine, eagerly spreading your legs open as wide as you possibly can.

Breathy whimpers escape your lips as you watch the tip of Michael’s Roman nose trailing up and down your clit at an agonizingly slow pace—causing you to buck your hips towards Michael’s face in response.

Michael’s hands cup over your ass harshly, squeezing it now and again as he continues burying his tongue between the folds of your pussy while focusing on your clit.

“Ooh! OH!” Your moans grow louder as you feel Michael’s tongue parting open your pussy lips.

Enthralled in a wave of intense pleasure constantly washing back and forth over you, you roll your eyes back and curl your toes as you feel Michael’s hot, warm tongue licking up your clit.

“Oh my G-God, Michael… Michael…” It’s as if Michael’s memorized every sweet, weak spot in your body and he’s eager to please, keeping up a perfect and steady pace to build your orgasm.

Sloppily eating your pussy, the sounds alone cause your knees to tingle in numbness and you can no longer keep quiet even if you tried.

Strands of Michael’s hair begin to cling to his forehead as he only presses his tongue down further over your clit, making sure to greedily lick up the wetness trickling out of you.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You squeal, tugging on Michael’s silky hair and pushing his face further between your legs. “L-like that, like that! Just like that, mm!”

Michael doesn’t relent and the sensation of an intense orgasm deeply building in your gut begins to grow—threatening to release every time Michael’s nose or stubble grazes against your clit again.

“Eat, eat it, yeah, baby, yeah…” Your breath hitches as you watch Michael through lazy eyes, seeing him lap up your clit and angle his chin upwards.

Michael keeps the same pressure and rhythm over your clit as you struggle to force back and edge out your orgasm, but you can only hold out for so long before your body gives in.

Moving one hand down, Michael’s quick to tug off his trousers with his briefs—no longer able to ignore his own insistent arousal as droplets of precum ooze down his shaft.

“Oh my God, yes! Mmm, p-please, please, please!” You groan, writhing over the bed as you feel Michael slowly begin to slick a finger inside of your pussy before curling it.

Michael purposefully begins to grind his face against your clit, keeping you pinned down on the bed with his other hand moving up from your ass and to your hips to keep you in place.

With each time Michael thrusts his finger out of your pussy, more juices trickle out and Michael helps himself by licking up the mess and letting his tongue dart into your entrance.

“Mmm…” You can hear Michael quietly hum against your pussy, spitting directly over your clit and smearing it around with his tongue.

Moan after moan, you feel your pussy beginning to contract as you grind your hips up over Michael’s mouth just to feel the rhythm of his tongue drooling and suckling over your clit again.

Michael’s ability to build your orgasm up with ease and shows no signs of stopping—paying complete attention to your clit with his lips and tongue.

Every nerve of your clit feels satisfied and stimulated, only causing your thighs to shake uncontrollably over and over again as your orgasm reaches its tipping point.

Your knuckles strain white from how tightly you clench at the bedsheets and Michael’s all the most amused seeing how desperate you are to cum in his mouth and give in already.

“Ohhhh! B-baby! I’m cumming! I’m—Ah!” You throw your head back, letting out a shriek as your orgasm releases through you—rocking a feeling of ecstasy over your body.

Your clit pulsates in response as the heavenly orgasm buzzes through you, taking over all your senses from head to toe momentarily as your muscles tense up.

Toes curled and thighs quivering around Michael’s head, you force yourself to clasp a hand over your mouth and muffle out your moans.

Michael keeps his mouth pressed against your pussy, gazing up at you with nothing but lust darkening in his eyes.

Catching your breath, you hardly have the energy to sit up on the bed; panting and clutching onto the bedsheets for strength after such an incredible orgasm.

Michael grazes his finger in between your inner thighs and pussy lips before licking over your cum and wetness off of it—refusing to take his eyes off of you.

“M-Michael… My God,” you breathe out, attempting to sit up as your thighs quiver like jelly over Michael’s shoulders.

Stroking his cock almost completely lubricated in his own precum, Michael locks eyes with you and kneels on the bed—embracing your body against his. “Come here, baby.”

“Oh, please—”

Wrapping your thighs around Michael again, your lips crush over his in a needy, hungry kiss as your husband’s hands roam over your tender, supple breasts.

“I w-want you so bad—so much—” you breathe in between the feverish kisses you two share.

Michael gives your ass a light smack before rubbing over it, whispering against your lips as he speaks. “I want to make love to you, darling.”

“Yes, yes, please—” blushing furiously, you nod insistently before kissing Michael’s lips again—letting him lay you back down on the bed.

“Mm—” Michael breaks the wet kiss, hovering over top of you and nuzzling your neck as both of his hands move down your hips. “Turn around for me, baby.”

Licking your lips to taste Michael again, you do as he says and flip around on your stomach—arching your back to get into a doggy-style position.

“’ Atta girl,” Michael’s voice is low and husky as he speaks to you, squeezing your ass and positioning himself in between your legs.

Resting the side of your face over a pillow, you breathe softly as you gaze up to Michael who taps his cock against your ass before spreading it open slowly.

The soft whimpers that continue to come out of you do nothing but arouse Michael further as he slicks his shaft up and down between your ass before swiftly pushing his hips in and penetrating your pussy.

“Ooh—” Michael hisses, entering your tight, soaked heat.

“Ahhh yes, yes…!” You push your hips back against Michael’s, wanting to take every inch of his thick cock inside of you already.

“I’m gonna make my night here worthwhile with you, baby,” Michael whispers over your shoulder blade before kissing over it—letting his warm lips linger over your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel so good and I—” Michael tilts your chin up, leaving a wet kiss on the side of your neck, “want to hear you say my name again and again.”

“Oh God, please,” you whine out in response, laying flat down on your stomach with Michael’s cock buried into your pussy. “Please baby, please…”

“Victoria, mm—” With a low grunt, Michael bucks his hips towards you—his hot skin pressing against yours with each thrust.

You clench the pillow you rest your face upon, letting out moan after moan as Michael’s body meets yours again and again.

Michael pushes back a curtain of your hair away from your neck, leaning in and moaning over your shoulder. “I want you…so badly…”

“Take me—more, more—” You arch your back against Michael’s chest, letting every pleasurable sensation he brings you rush over your body.

Soft and breathy moans from the both of you fill the room coupled with the sound of skin slapping against skin from each deep thrust.

Hearing Michael’s velvety voice moaning out over your shoulder only amplifies your arousal further, bringing a tingling weakness to your knees.

“M-Michael, Michael,” your bottom lip trembles from the buildup of another orgasm approaching you.

“Louder…” Michael grips your throat with one firm hand, tilting your chin up to continue leaving a trail of wet, harshening kisses over your neck.

The slightest touch from Michael, his every moan, the way he teases you and his dirty talk have you submitting to him already—craving and desiring more of this man.

“You feel how wet you are for me, baby?” Michael’s free hand roams down your side, caressing up your back. “You feel so fucking good.”

“O-oh my—God—” you whine out, again and again, in between the sounds of your pussy sloppily gushing back against Michael’s cock with each thrust.

“Music to my ears,” Michael breathes over the nape of your neck, sliding his hand underneath your chest to squeeze at your breasts.

“Oh, baby—you’re gonna make me cum again. Again—” You muffle out your moan against the pillow, squirming underneath Michael.

“Already, baby?” Michael chuckles breathily against your back, watching as you grip the bedpost with all your strength. “I want you to cum with me… Be a good girl and hold it in.”

“You t-tease,” your voice quivers as you feel Michael’s hands squeezing over your breasts; his fingers moving up to toy with your nipples.

“You want me to tease you? Is that it?” Michael places his arms underneath yours, gripping one hand over the bedpost with you.

“N-no—oh! Ohhh, right there!” You gasp out, angling and pushing your hips back toward Michael’s.

“Fuck,” you hear Michael mutter under his breath, inhaling sharply. “You’re clenching against me—so fucking tight.”

“MICHAEL!” You shriek, feeling his hips slamming against your ass.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes…” Michael groans against your skin, smacking your ass again. “Found your sweet spot—”

“I’m gonna cum—you’re gonna make me—” You gasp out as Michael pulls out of you entirely only to fully thrust back in.

“You deserve it, don’t you?” Michael grips his hands over your hips, pushing his cock in and out of you as slowly as he can.

All that comes out of your mouth is another filthy moan—unable to form a coherent sentence with Michael purposefully coming close to your G-Spot but avoiding it at an angle that hits a completely different sweet spot inside of you.

The scent of sex fills the room and you feel almost intoxicated by the pace of Michael’s deep thrusting, feeling as if he’s rearranging your insides.

Your eyes tear up from pleasure as you keep your back arched and ass up, almost in a trance from how you repeatedly begin to feel the same way you would with your orgasm about to release, but without climax.

“Give into me, baby,” Michael pants, ensuring his hips fully meet yours and you take in every inch of him again and again. “You love it—you fucking love it… Shit—” Michael’s cock abruptly slicks out of you.

“In—in—” You whine, reaching your hand back towards Michael. “Fuck me—”

“Impatient.” A smirk crosses Michael’s lips as he angles his cock back into your pussy, entering you again and seeing how your thighs shake like jelly from the impact.

“Don’t stop!” You squeeze your eyes shut, squeezing the metal bars of the bedpost with all your might. “Oh God, don’t stop! Fuck—fuck!”

“You feel how close you are, baby?” Michael leans back down, resting his chest against your back. “Edging yourself, holding back… All I have to do is—”

“Mm!” Your eyes snap open as you gasp out through a half-scream, half-moan to feel Michael hit your G-Spot, instantly unraveling your second orgasm.

“Ahhh, perfect, baby. Cum for me,” Michael’s eyes flutter shut as he inhales sharply, letting his own climax unwind inside of you.

Attempting to steady your breathing, you let the mind-numbing orgasm flow through you and only intensify the sensation of Michael’s hot cum spurting inside of you.

Michael keeps his cock inside of you, refusing to spill a single drop as you turn your head weakly to make eye contact with him—still in Michael’s grasp.

“I love it when you cum on my cock like that,” Michael leans down to steal a wet, full-mouthed kiss from you.

You kiss back hungrily, still feeling your body trembling from the heightened sensitivity of your orgasm. “G-God…”

“Look at you, baby,” Michael slowly pulls his cock out of you, watching your pussy convulse and begin to ooze out his sticky cum.

“Oh my God,” you reach your hand back underneath you, spreading open your pussy lips. “Feels so full.”

Michael lets his cum drip down and smear onto his shaft before he thrusts right back into your pussy again, lacing both hands with yours tightly.

“Ah—” Your eyes widen in surprise as you make eye contact with Michael, unable to hold back neither your excitement nor arousal for how badly you crave him for a third round to fuck you into bliss again.

“Tonight’s just about you and I,” Michael kisses alongside the outline of your jawline, “and I intend to please you until you can’t take it anymore. How do you want me, baby? Tell me.”

“Make love to me,” you whisper back, gently nibbling over Michael’s bottom lip and pulling it towards you.

“I love you,” Michael speaks against your lips, gently turning you over and raising your legs over his shoulders.

You moan back into his mouth as all eight inches of Michael’s cock fill you up again—eager to satisfy all your sinful fantasies again.

[ August 1949 ]

If it’s one thing you always come to remember when you think and reminisce of when you and Michael first got married, it’s the shyness you had with your budding romance coupled with the thrill of being just married.

Michael and you married in August of 1949 after only being engaged for a few weeks.

Although the concept of a Ferrari marrying a Corleone was mutually agreed upon by your father and Vito Corleone, both men knew it highly depended on compatibility, attraction, and love which all had to be mutually met on both you and Michael’s end.

Had you never married Michael for whatever reason—whether he and you simply couldn’t get along or outright refused, the Ferraris and Corleones would still be allies, but there’d be nothing in-between to guarantee that for long.

Of course, the two families may be allies with no hostility or competition in business for many years to come—perhaps even for a lifetime—but there’d still be suspicion and some lack of trust without guarantees of any kind.

In many ways, the Ferraris and Corleones killed two birds with one stone when it came to your marriage to Michael.

Now both families would be intertwined, related to one another, and closer than ever on a personal bond whereas it was almost strictly business beforehand, with the exception of Vito and Giuseppe Ferrari’s personal friendship from Sicily.

Your marriage to Michael practically guarantees no civil fallout between the families and completely destroys the concept of a war between the Ferraris and Corleones—both have a son and daughter as well as the family they’ll make at stake and family always comes first.

In truth, you didn’t know much about the Corleones before you personally meet them at the Corleone Estate in the summer of 1949.

You had briefly heard of Santino Corleone only on grounds that he would be heir to Don Corleone as his eldest son, and of course, it was also impossible to ignore Sonny’s bravado once the news that Don Tattaglia’s son had been assassinated on Sonny’s orders as payback for targeting Vito.

You had also heard the Corleone family’s consigliere was not Sicilian or Italian, to begin with, but these were all things you merely heard through discussion and conversation once.

You didn’t have the slightest idea that Don Corleone had more children, let alone Connie—a daughter or that their youngest son was at Dartmouth around the same time as you and enlisted in the Second World War.

All you could confirm for yourself was that the Corleones were a big family, came from Corleone where you and your brothers except for Dante were born, and that your father personally knew Vito Corleone before either of them was Don of their families.

It’s true that your family would prefer you to marry into another mafiosi family, or at least a wealthy Sicilian family with a reputation because of your status, and you—unlike Michael—weren’t eager to do the opposite.

Whereas Michael began his relationship with an American woman, Kay Adams, you believed it was in your best interest to marry a mafioso because you knew you’d never escape your life and background as a mafiosa yourself, nor did you want to.

You believed it would be unfair to pull someone else—Italian, Sicilian, or otherwise—into such a lifestyle without having them end up dead, ratting to the feds, or becoming a pompous, power-obsessed asshole like Carlo Rizzi.

Because the stakes were so high for you as the only Ferrari daughter when it came to marriage prospects, it only dulled your outlook on relationships further.

Your education was the highest priority, and you didn’t feel “lonely” with your family, friends, and colleagues by your side.

You simply weren’t seeking a relationship or long-term commitment during such a crucial part of your life where your studies meant everything and took up most of your time.

However, that didn’t mean you didn’t have love interests or flings here and there. The only difference was that you strayed away or confirmed to stay friends when you felt you were getting too close or towards commitment.

Maybe the men you worked with and attended law school with wished they could go on a date with you or get to know you further, but you knew you were doing them a favor.

Anyone who got too close to a mafiosi without being one themselves would always get burned. You knew this then too.

The only time you ever came close to a full-fledged relationship was with a young man named Salvatore Romano whom you attended law school with.

You knew you wanted to be a criminal prosecutor whereas Salvatore was determined to become a criminal attorney.

From the similarity of being criminal lawyers but the difference in prosecution and defense, the two of you got along very well and spent many late nights studying for exams and motivating one another to pass the Bar.

From looks alone yes, you couldn’t deny that Salvatore was attractive and his kind demeanor sparked your interest, but you knew you had no interest in a relationship and that applied to any man you met during university.

You didn’t mean to get as close to Salvatore as you did, but the two of you found each other constantly spending time with one another naturally—without the expectation of a relationship to begin with.

You could tell Salvatore was attracted and interested in you in every way possible, and he never made unwanted advances towards you or made you uncomfortable.

Perhaps what you had with Salvatore throughout most of law school was almost a relationship without the official title, but it could never come close to comparing with your relationship and love towards Michael even in the slightest.

One of the last few times you heard about the Corleone family being mentioned—especially Michael as the subject matter—was when you were already a full-fledged lawyer working at the city courthouse.

It was impossible to ignore. Your father and brothers were discussing the fact that “Don Corleone’s youngest son” who was a “civilian” and surprisingly to you uninvolved in the “family business” killed a police captain and Virgil Solozzo.

Your father knew and did business with Solozzo, and was already preparing to get into the narcotic trade with Solozzo, but the news didn’t spark his temper or any sense of betrayal—it sparked his interest especially because Michael was the one who killed both men.

Nonetheless, for weeks on end, all your father and brothers discussed was the narcotics smuggling trade, distribution, hold on the docks, and taking over where Solozzo ended.

The mention tensions began to rise up shortly after, as Vito wasn’t sure how the Ferraris would act now that Michael had killed one of their business partners and that the matter was over narcotics.

None of the other families let alone during the meetings at the Commission could dare utter any protest towards what Giuseppe was doing.

The Ferraris were simply too powerful and too influential with the police and judges in their pockets for anyone to judge or challenge their role in the narcotics trade. There was no room for competition either.

When your father came home from the Commission meeting as tensions were cooling off between the Barzinis and Tattaglias versus the Corleones, the Corleone family was guaranteed by your family that if the Barzinis or Tattaglias struck again or tried to team up on the Corleones, the Ferraris would directly intervene and happily cause all the necessary bloodshed.

“You ever visit Don Corleone for a cup of coffee outside business, Pop?” Alessio set down his newspaper after reading the old article about Solozzo and McClusky’s death.

Giuseppe chuckled, putting down his cigar. “I think about it every now and then. Hard to do when all eyes are on both of you, waiting to make a move.”

“That’s all they can do,” Lorenzo took a drag from his cigarette. “Watch and stare. Barzini and Tattaglia know they can’t make a move on you or Don Corleone now.”

“Perhaps not,” Giuseppe smiled back at his son. “But Don Corleone has other troubles to deal with, ones we cannot get involved in.”

“Such as?” You spoke up, curious about the subject matter.

“Such as the fact if Don Corleone’s son Michael shows his face too soon, he could raise the FBI’s suspicions and get arrested for Solozzo and McClusky’s death. Don Corleone must maintain his son’s innocence.”

“How will he do that if not through the courts?” You furrowed your brows, knowing of course even though the vast majority of judges were on your father’s payroll, even they couldn’t get involved in Corleone business to defend Michael.

“Well, he already has,” your father nodded. “Don Corleone has sent his son to Sicily, an exile of sorts if you’ll call it that. Once tensions have cooled down here, I’m sure he’ll come to reunite with his family. For now, this is the best course of action.”

“Sounds grim enough,” Leonardo commented. “Shame, hmm? Victoria could have defended Don Corleone’s kid pretty well in court if she wasn’t the one prosecuting them all behind bars.”

“Ha, ha.” You let out a fake, forced laugh. “You flatter me, Leo.”

Michael’s feat with Solozzo and McClusky greatly impressed your father and such an impression withstood the test of time.

Although your father didn’t share it with you or any of your brothers, he became aware after a year or so from Michael’s return from Sicily that he was now getting directly involved in “family business” affairs.

From all looks of it, Giuseppe saw Michael officially as a “made man” in the mafia and he was exactly the kind of man Giuseppe would let his daughter marry.

That was before anyone ever heard from Don Corleone himself that he was no longer considering Sonny to be his successor as Don instead, but Michael.

When you and Michael married in August of 1949, Michael was not yet Don, but still preparing for his role of successor under his father.

It couldn’t have been a more perfect time for Michael to do so. As just the son of a Don but not the Don himself, Michael had much more free time on his hands outside of active business and naturally, since your wedding, Vito wanted his son to spend as much time with his new bride at home as possible.

It wasn’t just Vito’s wish, but Michael’s too. Michael’s not the kind of man to ever feel the need to appease anyone or do something because he’s “obliged to”. Michael wanted to.

Michael wanted to get to know everything and anything about you that he could over time, through conversations and quality time spent together.

Michael knew he’d never be able to do it all in one day, but he didn’t ever have the need or intentions to rush his relationship with you.

Michael spent any and all of his free time with you. It didn’t just have to be during dates, sex, or conversations even, as your presence was enough for him.

For the first time in Michael’s life as a changed and hardened man involved in the family business, he felt comfort from his lover’s presence.

Michael never felt questioned, untrusted, or feared by you, but rather respected and loved unconditionally.

There was and is simply no need for Michael to change himself in any way or lie to get to you. You both loved and accepted one another as you were and are to this day.

Time passes by like nothing when the two of you spend a day together, even if it’s nothing more than an ordinary day at home.

You and Michael quickly discovered early on in your marriage how compatible the two of you were just from the endless hours you could both spend talking to one another about anything.

Even over five years on in your marriage, one thing that never changed and never will is the yearning the two of you have for one another—just to see and be with each other.

Emotional chemistry and compatibility aside, your physical chemistry with Michael was nothing but fiery passion.

Just as craving one another never changed, neither did the lust and arousal you two have for each other.

The immensely passionate attraction you both mutually have for each other manifested easily into lust and sex four to five times a week for the next three months straight.

All the two of you wanted to do was ravish one another again and again, night after night—simply unable to get enough.

“Off,” Michael murmured against the side of your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses leading up to your jawline.

“Michael,” blushing furiously, you couldn’t help but let out a little moan to the pleasurable sensations racking over your body at once; Michael’s one hand up your satin nightgown, pulling at the waistband of your panties and the other cupping a breast while slowly grazing his thumbs over your hardened nipple.

If Michael had business and work with his father for the day, you’d eagerly wait for him on the bed naked or in lingerie, sometimes in the late of night underneath the duvet with nothing on, or you’d strip down and give Michael a little show in person first.

The intimacy, love, bond, trust, and respect you two gave one another unconditionally and without doubt or hesitation was one only shared by you and Michael—it could never be given and shared with another soul. It eternally belongs to you and him.

Just the way Michael believed and still believes in his very core that his eyes are for you and you’re only for him, the mere concept of another man lusting and desiring you does nothing but make Michael’s blood boil in jealousy.

Both you and Michael are well aware as to just who the two of you are, especially in the public eye, so while common sense tells you two that attraction to either one of you from anyone else is normal, it’s a fatal sin in Michael’s world to see another man making his attraction directly obvious to you.

Despite who he is, Michael’s not exempt from having the classical Italian male jealousy clicking in, only unlike his brothers Sonny and Fredo, Michael never let jealousy control him or his actions.

Michael may raise a brow or ask you where you’re going in a little black dress, but he’s never been one to lecture or deny you over your clothing or where you’re headed. Michael trusts you completely and you trust him. It’s as simple as that.

You glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the bedroom, noting that you’d have approximately thirty minutes to make the commute to the courthouse for work today after getting dressed.

Although you sensed Michael’s presence just by the sound and familiarity of his footsteps down the corridor, you were distracted by zipping up the back of your dress.

Pushing open the ajar bedroom door, Michael’s eyes immediately landed on the sight of you still dressing—your back completely exposed with a peek of your panties as you attempted to get the zipper up from your lower waist.

As you glanced up in the mirror in front of you, you noticed Michael’s reflection as he began to approach you from behind.

Blushing, you paused your movements and kept your hand on the zipper of your dress as Michael’s eyes greedily darted up and down your figure.

“What time do you have to be at work?” Michael asked, his voice soft and velvety.

“At twelve—” You let out a soft gasp as you quickly realized when Michael placed his hands over yours that he wasn’t about to help out with the zipper of your dress.

Instead, Michael tugged the dress off of your waist completely and grabbed your hips immediately after, pulling you towards the bed.

“Michael!” You squealed and clutched onto your husband’s embrace.

“I’ll drive you there myself,” Michael’s hands squeezed over your ass as he pinned you down on the bed gently. “The world can wait a little longer.”

Your sex life with Michael since the very beginning but especially during the first few months of your marriage was nothing short of incredible.

More often than not, you and Michael went over three rounds in one night and met with toe-curling, eye-rolling, intense orgasms, and screams filling the bedroom.

Sexual intimacy aside, the love and passion you share with Michael never ends there.

The warmth, love, and safety you feel holding hands with your lover, going on walks together, appreciating every detail of one another like how Michael’s smile forms, the sound of your laughter to the silent intimacy of cuddling with one another on the couch while enjoying a film.

Everything from embracing Michael and feeling at home to ironing his dress shirts and still picking up on the scent of Michael’s cologne from his clothes was and is love and intimacy to the both of you.

Never leaving the “honeymoon phase” as others call it, all of your friends and family have been easily able to tell time and time again how the two of you genuinely love, respect, and care for one another.

“These two are meant for each other,” Carmela whispered to Vito as she watched her son kiss the back of your hand, leading you further down the fruit orchard in Corleone.

In the very beginning, you may have felt just a little embarrassed to be so shy around and with Michael, but in truth, you can’t blame yourself.

A man as smolderingly attractive as Michael Corleone giving you butterflies, making your heart skip a beat, skin heat up and blood rush had to make any woman shy.

Engrossed in a casual business discussion at lunch held in the courtyard of you and Michael’s New York estate, you were the only one who could pull Michael’s attention off of anything.

Still in the middle of discussions, Michael’s world came to a pause when he spotted you just by the garden—holding babbling little baby Niccolò in your arms as you made your way inside the estate.

You were always all Michael could want. He could never not be in love with you. He could never get his eyes off of you. Michael would never want to.

[ + 2 Hours, 11:04 PM ]

The dim glow of the lamp on Michael’s night table and the television playing a film across from the bed illuminate the suite as you snuggle up in Michael’s warm embrace.

A tender ache pulsates between your legs, leaving a reminder of the two rounds of steamy lovemaking from half an hour ago.

Michael wraps one arm around your waist as you curl up to his side with your hand over Michael’s bare chest; the two of you are still naked under the duvet.

The television’s volume is turned down low mostly to serve as background noise while the two of you enjoy the rest of your evening before bed.

Fighting off a wave of deep, inviting sleep, you’re the most comfortable you can be in your lover’s embrace under the soft, plush duvet and blankets.

Whether you have business to tend to as soon as you land or not, plane rides always tire you out one way or another, and more often than not, you find yourself utterly exhausted at the end of the day.

Tonight’s as comfortable as you can possibly be in your husband’s arms, knowing when the two of you return back home to Lake Tahoe tomorrow you’ll truly feel cozy and rest with your family by your side.

Barely able to focus on the film from sleepiness, you gaze at the television with lazy eyes—trailing little circles over Michael’s chest with your fingertip.

Michael rests his back against two pillows, sitting up in bed and smoking a cigarette with his free hand; his hair is a sexy, tousled mess with most of his attention over you.

Michael gently rubs up and down your hips, only soothing you further towards falling asleep.

Feeling Michael’s soft, supple skin and his chest hair between your fingers, you slow the tracing movements over his chest as you shut your eyes just to rest them for a moment, but find yourself falling asleep already.

Noticing first, Michael leans down towards you and plants a gentle kiss over your forehead in the hopes it won’t stir you from sleep.

“Mm..” Keeping your eyes closed, you lean up after feeling the kiss and peck a kiss over Michael’s lips in return.

“Falling asleep already, sweetheart?” Michael whispers to you quietly.

“Am…not,” you murmur, snuggling as close as you can to Michael’s chest. “I didn’t even know I was this…exhausted.”

Michael takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing out the smoke away from your direction. “Are you comfortable, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you nod slowly against Michael’s chest. “Very, very…”

“Sleep well, baby,” Michael gently strokes your hair. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” is the last thing you mumble out before dozing off into deep sleep.

In the morning, Michael and you both awaken at 6AM and have no further intentions of spending any more time at the hotel let alone Las Vegas than either of you need to.

Despite familiarity in Las Vegas and the luxuries the hotel provides, neither you nor Michael feel at home and are scarcely happy to be here in the first place thanks to Fredo.

Ritchie and Al Neri carry out you, Michael, and Sonny’s luggage to the car the moment you and Michael exit the hotel, choosing to skip breakfast here and dine on the private jet back home instead.

The eye contact Ritchie makes with you first thing in the morning confirms everything’s fine and taken care of, just as expected.

“Seriously though, Mike? What—this was your idea, wasn’t it?” Sonny grumbles, looking at the banana in his hand—the only thing he was able to grab from the hotel for breakfast. “We could have grabbed a plate to go, at least.”

“You’ll be fine,” Michael ignores Sonny’s antics as the car begins to take off. “We were here for business and our business is concluded. Las Vegas doesn’t need our presence anymore.”

“I agree,” you cover your mouth as you yawn.

“Right,” Sonny rolls his eyes, beginning to peel his banana.

Despite it being a normal morning of sorts, neither you nor Michael comes to notice right away that Sonny specifically refuses to glance in your direction or even speak with you since he stepped out of the hotel and the same applies on board the private jet.

All you can focus on and think of for now is getting home safe and sound, seeing the children and baby Vincent again while knowing you never have to look back at Vegas and the legacy it left for your family again.

With a wool throw over you, you spend the majority of the flight snuggled up on the couch-shaped seat on the private plane next to Michael, sleeping away.

Sitting just next to you, Michael sips his black coffee while reading through a newspaper to relax through the flight.

Naturally, with no witty remarks being heard from Sonny or much of anything from him at all, Michael notes to himself that Sonny’s being unusually quiet and keeping to himself this morning.

Quietly scarfing down his breakfast, Sonny sits opposite the two of you as he did when flying into Vegas, but appears all the more impatient to get home than you and Michael combined.

Seeming like all the Vegas flair is off of Sonny now, Michael refuses to question it simply because he doesn’t care.

It’s only when Michael’s occupied reading an article that Sonny glances up just once throughout the entire flight to gaze upon you sleeping soundly.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re a deadbeat husband. You’re simply not able to see the bigger picture. Do better, Sonny. Your wife and children are counting on you for it.”

Sonny lets out a quiet, drawn-out sigh to himself, still feeling bitter about the slap but it’s more of a bruise on his ego than anything else.

Perhaps if it was Sandra, Connie, or even his own mother lecturing him on morality, promiscuity, and marriage, it’d just go in one ear and out the other for Sonny.

Sonny would never listen let alone care; after all, he’s heard the same scolding from his family since he was a teenager and it has even less importance to Sonny now despite being married with children because his sex life with Sandra is practically non-existent.

“You’re a disappointment for trying to justify that alone.”

Still, those words coming from you because you care about Sonny’s family and Sandra’s feelings were heard by Sonny who never expected anything like that from you of all people.

“Why do you even care so much?”

Because of that alone, Sonny can’t get your words out of his head from last night but whether he’d actually listen and change what seems now to be in his nature is another matter altogether.

Turning his head away, Sonny chooses to push aside those thoughts and indulge himself in a glass of whiskey, bidding Las Vegas goodbye for now.

[ Lake Tahoe Compound ]

“Almost there…” Snuggling onto Michael’s arm, you peek out the car window and already feel soothed at the sight of Lake Tahoe up ahead; being on the familiar path home.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this eager to get back home before,” Michael comments, gazing down at you. “Can’t say I blame you either, darling.”

“Nuh-uh, don’t think of me as ungrateful,” you giggle quietly, lacing your hand with Michael’s. “I know how rare it is for us to go on a business trip together. I loved every moment I got to spend with you and you only. I like to think of it that way.”

“As will I,” a faint smile grows over Michael’s lips. “Aside from our investments and hotels, Vegas offers nothing for us.”

Both you and Michael practically expect some sort of response from Sonny who sits in the front passenger seat of the car by now, but he remains silent.

“I agree,” you nod back. “And you know, of course…” You can’t help but smile at the thought, “even just being away for a little while doesn’t matter. I miss our babies so much.”

“As do I, although I have enough reason to believe Esther will be the happiest to see you,” Michael points out.

You burst out laughing, nodding back. “Well, let’s hope Vincent wasn’t too fussy while we were away.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” Michael raises your hand up to his lips, kissing them softly.

Blushing, you smile up at your husband and already feel your heart and spirit at ease, approaching the gates of your home.

Michael’s security spots the two black Cadillacs you all arrive in, confirming the license plate and vehicle make to themselves before beginning to pull open the grand gates leading into the compound.

The chauffeurs slow the vehicles, driving carefully inside the compound and towards the estates to drop you three off first.

From the moment the cars come to a stop and you all begin to step out, Sonny smoothens out his waistcoat and lets out a huff—wasting no time in popping open the trunk of the car to grab out his belongings.

Ritchie frowns, taking a step back from the trunk as Sonny grabs his luggage for himself and walks off down the opposite way to his estate with Sandra and the children without another word.

Michael steps out of the vehicle first, taking your hand and helping you get out after him before he wraps an arm around your waist.

The two of you neither notice Sonny’s absence nor question it; turning around to face your estate just up ahead greeted by the twins standing next to the babysitter Esther holding baby Vincent in her arms—all waving at you two.

“Oh my goodness, my babies!” You beam, giddily rushing up to greet your family as Michael follows you.

“Mama! Daddy!” Verona jumps up and down, rushing to approach you with Niccolo.

“Welcome back, mama! Daddy!” Niccolo grins happily.

“Hi, honey!” You lean down to kiss both Verona and Niccolo’s cheeks. “Mwah, mwah—gosh, I missed the two of you.”

“Behaved, I hope?” Michael rubs both Niccolo and Verona’s back as they hug him next.

“Of course!” Verona claps her hands together.

“Always, daddy,” Niccolo giggles, giving his father a big hug.

“Ehhhh…” Vincent stirs, squirming a bit in Esther’s arms but the moment Esther snaps her finger and points at you to grab his attention, Vincent calms down.

“Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Corleone,” Esther greets you and Michael with Vincent in her arms. “See, little buddy? I told you they’d be back today.”

“Mio bambino!” (My baby!) You gently scoop up Vincent from Esther’s arms, hugging him. “Hi, baby. Hi, little guy!”

“Gahhhhh…” Vincent’s eyes are wide and in awe of the two of you as he reaches his tiny little hand towards Michael.

“Hello, we’re back,” Michael lets Vincent grab his thumb. “How much trouble did you give Esther?”

“Oh, think nothing of it, please,” Esther chuckles before letting out a sigh of relief.

You cover your mouth to hold back your laughter, shaking your head. “So that means a lot. Not to worry though, little man. Mama and daddy are back, yeah?” You kiss both of Vincent’s little hands. “We’re back, yes we are.”

“How’s my boy, hmm?” Michael gives his baby son a kiss on the cheek. “He’s quiet now, definitely missed his mother.”

“Not just me, don’t you see the way he’s looking at you?” You giggle as Vincent hugs your chest, staring up at his father curiously.

“I know that look, he’ll be after my tie soon,” Michael gives his black, silk tie a little tug, seeing how Vincent’s eyes immediately light up.

“Come on, you two!” You gesture to the twins, “let’s get inside!”

“Your mother and I are exhausted from the trip, so let’s use our indoor voices, yes?” Michael heads inside with you and the twins.

“Okay!” The twins lower their voices to a whisper.

“I don’t think I have time to be exhausted,” you laugh softly, carrying Vincent inside. “Little Vincent here has all my attention.” You glance back at Michael who stops by the corridor near his office. “Niccolo, Verona, with me, please. Daddy’s got a little bit of business to tend to before he joins us for supper. Is grandma cooking?”

“Mhmm,” Verona skips down the hallway next to you with her hands behind her back. “Grandma and Auntie Sandra are!”

“Don’t take too long, daddy,” Vincent looks back at his father. “We missed you.”

“I won’t, buddy,” Michael reassures, nodding. “Get ready for supper with your mother, alright? I’ll be back soon.”

Completely ignoring Sandra’s presence inside his estate as she unpacks Sonny’s belongings, Sonny makes his way towards you and Michael’s estate as soon as he’s no longer able to hear you and the children’s voices.

Sonny grumbles quietly to himself, walking across to your estate with his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers and an unavoidable irritated expression upon his face.

Knowing Michael will be in his office first thing, Sonny refuses to let the matter from Vegas wait any longer and goes to seize the opportunity to speak with his brother in private.

You and the twins enter the nursery upstairs together to give Vincent a change of clothes for supper and to see if he’s hungry enough to be breastfed, leaving the hallway and living room of your estate completely empty.

As if it’s his own home, Sonny walks into the estate and directly makes his way towards Michael’s office—picking up on the sound of Tom handling paperwork for Michael in the study and making sure he’s unseen to avoid any further conversation.

The door to Michael’s office remains half open and rather than standing in front of the door, Al Neri leans against the wall just across from it.

Sonny and Neri make brief eye contact as Neri gives him an acknowledging nod and Sonny enters Michael’s office.

Neri shuts the door behind Sonny for the sake of privacy and to signal to Michael that he has a “guest” here to see him.

Michael remains standing by one of the half-opened windows of his office, smoking a cigarette and gazing outside.

Upon hearing the sound of his office door shut, all Michael does is glance over his shoulder to look upon who entered; seeing Sonny but not the least bit surprised, curious or even caring his older brother is here and visibly frustrated.

“You know, that wife of yours has just as much of a good right hook as you do,” Sonny comments, approaching Michael.

“I’m not surprised,” Michael turns his head back to look out the window again. “Did you underestimate her all this time?”

“More like I didn’t expect her,” Sonny stares at Michael, growing all the more irritated that his brother barely pays attention to him and won’t even look him in the eye while talking despite the conversation being about you.

“Is there a problem, Santino?” Michael blows smoke out towards the window, completely relaxed and calm in his demeanor. “If so,” Michael slowly turns his head to face Sonny directly, “be forward and state your point.”

“You shouldn’t have brought Victoria to Vegas with us,” Sonny states firmly.

Michael flicks the ashes of his cigarette out the window. “And who are you to tell me that I should or shouldn’t take my wife somewhere?”

“I’m your older brother,” Sonny affirms, standing his ground.

“That has no meaning to me,” Michael replies plainly. “I certainly hope you aren’t assuming I brought Victoria along because you’re under the belief I may think you’re incompetent.”

“No, I’m not,” Sonny scoffs, looking around Michael’s office. “You know me. I’m not fuckin’ stupid to go around thinking that. I don’t think Victoria had any business being there. That was between you, me, Fredo, and Tom. It would have made more sense if you brought your own damn consigliere along.”

“Sonny,” Michael takes a long drag of his cigarette, “I know you’re not concerned for Victoria’s safety just as I know you don’t care if she is or isn’t involved with Fredo’s brothels.”

“I’m saying this for your own good,” Sonny narrows his eyes. “You brought Victoria to a place that clearly bothers her—makes her uncomfortable. You know she didn’t wanna be there.”

“Neither did I,” Michael points out. “But we did what was necessary. I didn’t make Victoria ‘go’ anywhere.” Michael looks Sonny in the eye, “she came along with me of her own free will.”

“You wanted her there,” Sonny rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

“Of course, I wanted her with me. She’s my wife,” Michael blows out another puff of smoke. “I intend to take my wife with me anywhere that I possibly can. She’s no stranger to this business, Sonny. You know that much.”

“Why didn’t you bring Tom then?” Sonny furrows his brows.

“Because when I’m away from the compound, Tom is the Don,” Michael tells him. “He’s in charge of my home and family. That’s his place.”

“Right, right,” Sonny grumbles to himself. “Uh-huh.”

“Don’t ask me to justify my reasons as to why I do what I do, Santino,” Michael maintains a calm, quiet tone as he speaks. “I don’t have to explain anything to you whatsoever. You were overjoyed being in Vegas yourself if I recall correctly. Don’t stall me for whatever you’re holding back. We both know this behavior is unlike you.”

“For fuck’s sake, Mike,” Sonny grits his teeth, “you brought your wife right up in the domain of a woman she hates. Don’t you get that?”

“Victoria doesn’t hate anyone,” Michael rests his cigarette between the corner of his lips.

It’s the truth. You’d never care that much let alone put such energy into hating someone—especially someone like Rita Duvall.

“Really?” Sonny stares at Michael in disbelief. “Is that why Victoria lectured me on and on about one of the girls working there? Gave me the whole ‘be a faithful husband and quit sleeping around’ talk, all that ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ bullshit. That was uncalled for, huh?”

“Was it?” Michael raises a brow. “Do you hear yourself? It appears she hasn’t said anything wrong to you.”

“I don’t like being told what to do,” Sonny grimaces. “I’m a grown fucking man—”

“And yet I can hear the guilt in your voice loud and clear,” Michael leans off the wall, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. “What Victoria may have said to you in Las Vegas is something your own mother has been telling you for years. Father too.”

“You’re gonna lecture and scold me too now, huh?” Sonny glares at Michael—his frustration mounting.

“If you’re saying Victoria stepped out of her place, you’re wrong,” Michael stands in front of Sonny, gazing at him.

“Slapping me wasn’t wrong, huh? Are you fucking kidding me?” Sonny hisses.

“Calm yourself,” Michael replies, unphased. “I would consider my next words carefully if I was you. I’m only getting the impression that you’re here to tell me you’ve grown upset because Victoria told you to behave. Don’t you think I would guess by now that you must have done something to upset her if she hit you, Santino?”

“She didn’t tell you, huh?” Sonny lets out a deep huff. “Of course, she didn’t.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Michael points out. “Because I know you deserved it.”

Sonny’s eyes widen in surprise as he makes eye contact with his brother, stunned.

“This is a tumultuous time for our family, Santino, in case you needed reminding. Fredo’s legacy hasn’t left a good reputation on our family name as of late and despite Victoria, Tom, and I working to rid ourselves of it, you’re enjoying Fredo’s mistakes, his indulgences—the embarrassment he’s caused us for years. What does that say about not only you but the Corleone family as well? If you were anyone else, I could care less, but you’re a nobody.” Michael takes a step closer toward Sonny, putting out his cigarette on the ashtray next to him without diverting his attention from Sonny. “You’re a Corleone and you will behave like a Corleone. If you can’t control your sexual tendencies, you will relieve yourself in private, not public with women who know your name and reputation and you certainly will not do so in the shadow of Fredo’s legacy. You will stop embarrassing me and this family immediately.”

“Think you forgot what I just told you, Mike,” Sonny’s expression twists into a scowl, “I didn’t come here to be fucking lectured. You’re not Pop, you’re not my third fucking parent.”

“I didn’t send you to New York to seduce my wife either, did I?” Michael snaps back.

Immediately growing quiet, Sonny’s tone and expression cool as a tedious silence fills the office.

Michael nods slowly at Sonny, seeing he’s clearly gotten the point. “You thought I would forget so easily, did you?”

“Mike—”

“Just as you knew better them, you know better now, don’t you?” Michael closes off the space between him and Sonny, staring directly into his brother’s eyes with a venomous glare. “I remember, Sonny. I haven’t forgotten anything.”

“Mike, seriously,” Sonny mumbles to himself, raking a hand through his curls. “That was a whole year ago and we talked about this. Everyone’s over—”

“I’m not,” Michael cuts in sharply. “I’m not ‘over it’, Santino. You don’t speak for me just as you don’t speak for Victoria over anything. When it came to Fredo, I didn’t trust him in business but I trusted him personally. Then you saw what he did to our family, didn’t you? Victoria’s mother is dead because of Fredo, but you? I don’t trust you personally. I trust you with business and your role in the family but after going to take an advance on my wife instead of checking in on her well-being and security with my children, you broke every bit of trust I ever had for you. You knew that Sonny,” Michael lowers his tone to a whisper—only heard between him and Sonny. “I don’t like when you mention Victoria and I don’t like when you talk about Victoria. You lost your right to do that from that very moment on. I don’t want you near my wife alone, I don’t want you to console her or give her advice for anything. For your sake, stay away from every woman but the one you’ve married, and stop embarrassing this family. Do you understand me?”

Sonny stares back at Michael for a moment, pressing his lips down firmly.

Seeing as Michael doesn’t back down and the “tough guy” act he sees from Sonny has zero effect on him whatsoever, Sonny refuses to talk back.

Instead, Sonny takes a step back, turns away, and exits Michael’s office calmly without another word.

The door shuts quietly behind Sonny as Michael adjusts his tie, staring back at the door as if he can see through it—still hearing every footstep Sonny takes down the hallway and out of his estate.

Michael neither needs a reply nor confirmation from Sonny. This is his first and last warning. If Sonny didn’t know before, he knows now and Michael’s cruel streak of refusing to forgive or forget is officially at its peak.

Pushing everything else aside, Michael’s only focus and commitment is to his family tonight and he can’t possibly care less about Sonny’s woes towards you or anything that occurred in Las Vegas.

The first thing Michael sees when he steps into the dining room is you—his wife, and his children helping set the table as you keep little baby Vincent entertained in your arms.

“Aaaaa…” Vincent cooes, extending his little hand towards Michael.

“Hi, honey,” a beaming smile forms over your lips as you wave too.

Mama Corleone looks up at her son and smiles warmly, helping set the table with Verona while Tom and Niccolo’s voices can be heard back in the kitchen, laughing over a joke.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Michael places a hand over your waist before kissing you sweetly, then planting a little kiss over Vincent’s chubby cheek.

That sense of relaxation, serenity, and familiarity surrounds the two of you well—home safe and sound without care to look or think back.

Tensions have relieved themselves of you for other reasons too, of course.

You didn’t kill Rita Duvall out of pettiness, hate, mere jealousy, or even because you simply could.

Until Rita and you were face to face with one another again, you hardly remembered her existence; it’s not as if the thought of her kept you up or frustrated you any other time.

Perhaps it was because Rita knew you refused to pay any mind to her or her antics coupled with her own jealousy and envy of your lifestyle, marriage, influence, and wealth that did nothing but motivate her to become a splinter under your skin.

Even if you walked into Rita’s room and saw her and Sonny having sex right then and there, you wouldn’t have done or said anything, but Rita’s lies about pregnancy would directly provoke the family and create scandal.

Rita may want money and attention from Sonny seeing she can’t get it one way or another from Michael, and that simply could not happen.

Sonny’s frustration towards you may as well be ill-placed. After all, you did him and his marriage as well as the entire family a favor by silencing Rita’s loud mouth once and for all.

Emotions such as sudden anger in the heat of things or spiking jealousy are beyond a woman like you; just another two things you’ve learned and been taught to tame and ignore as a mafiosa.

Still, as a mafiosa and the wife of a Don, anyone provoking you directly provokes both sides of your family too.

Whether Rita Duvall knew better or did not doesn’t concern you whatsoever. All you know when it comes to Rita Duvall is that she deserved everything that she got; no remorse or mercy in your heart whatsoever when it comes to doing what is necessary for the family.

Michael thought and felt exactly the same when he put a bullet in Sollozzo and McClusky’s heads too.

#the godfather #al pacino #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone fanfic #godfather au #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #alfredo james pacino #the godfather part ii #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic

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you-were-alone-too · 2 years

Text

the universe we dreamt

a byler big bang project

Author/Artists: @you-were-alone-too @oceanic-sunsets @hei-jessi-draws

Rating: Teen

Tags: Road Trip, Internalized Homophobia, Period Typical Homophobia, Set in 1988, Post-Season 5, Gay Mike Wheeler, Gay Will Byers, Mutual Pining, Will/El Siblings, Mike/Eleven Friendship, Heart to Hearts, Denver, Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, California, Mixtapes, Letters, The Painting, Best Friends to Lovers, Miscommunication, Not Actually Unrequited Feelings, Angst, Fluff, Mike Wheeler I Know What You Are, And Soon Will Byers Will Too, The Closet is Made of Glass

Summary: It's six months after they defeat Vecna and close the Upside Down for the final time, and along with it comes the spring of 1988. When Mike suggests that he and Will try and recreate their perfect spring break in California, it leads to a road trip towards the west coast that stirs up old memories and, perhaps, something more.

Excerpt:

Will glances up to where the painting is hanging above the couch, eyes raking over every careful detail. He still remembers the day he’d come down to the basement and saw it hanging up for the first time; Mike had rearranged his other posters just to put it there, and something about the proud look on Mike’s face reminded him of the way Will’s mom always liked to hang his artwork on the fridge, no matter how bad Will insisted they were. It’s stayed there ever since, and even now, seeing it still makes Will feel like his heart is a gaping, wide chasm, one that exposes his entire being if anyone decides to look hard enough.

He’s just glad that Mike hasn’t attempted to, at least.

“God, that feels like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Mike agrees. His eyes seem to follow Will’s line of sight to where the painting rests above the couch. “You know, if there’s one bright side to all of this, it’s that we never have to sit in a Surfer Boy Pizza van ever again.”

“Don’t remind me,” Will says, shuddering at the memories. Not even counting the emotional turbulence they suffered throughout that week, it had been awful—between the constant stench of weed, the lack of showers or clean clothes, and the mind-numbing boredom of sitting in a van for hours at a time, it was no wonder that just the reminder of it made their faces twist in disgust. “That was…”

“Easily the worst road trip of all time?” Mike asks.

“Yes,” Will laughs, although he doubts it even deserves to be in the same category as ‘road trip.’ At the time, it felt more like a getaway car than anything else. “I still can’t hear ‘Pass the Dutchie’ without my ears bleeding.”

Mike laughs as he collapses against the couch, and Will follows suit, the both of them working in tandem the way they’ve always seemed to.

“We should do that again. But an actual road trip, you know? Not when we’re one wrong turn away from getting shot by rogue government agents.” Mike’s eyes flicker up at him before his gaze falls back to the fidgeting hands in his lap. “And it would just be us this time. No Argyle and Jonathan getting high and playing their shitty mixtape on repeat.”

Will can’t help but smile at the way he can see Mike’s mind already formulating an idea at a hundred miles an hour, the way it always does when he comes up with a plan and his imagination begins to run away from him. And then the words it would just be us hit the forefront of his thoughts, echoing on a never ending loop the way Jonathan’s cassettes tended to do when the film was old and worn. He tries his best to brush them off, but instead, the words seem to worm their way down to his chest and nestle in the holes. He turns back to Mike, shoving the thoughts down, down, down. “Oh, so this time it’ll be us playing our own shitty mixtape?” he asks.

“Yeah!” Mike says, and the smile on his face reminds him of a younger Mike, one that led the party through countless battles with goblins and the thessalhydra and everything in between. “Well, maybe if I make it, it’ll actually be good.”

Will sits up, angling his body toward Mike with a kick to the shin. “Excuse me? Are you implying that I have bad music taste?” he scoffs.

Mike wrinkles his nose. “It’s just that you like all that weird stuff, like The Clash.”

“Wow. At least I don’t just listen to the top hits and think that means I like good music.”

“They’re the top hits for a reason! Besides, that’s not all I listen to,” he argues, arms folded against his chest.

Even now, Will can’t help but smile at Mike and the defensive attitude he seems to wield like a plate of armor, rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious, though,” he says, and when he glances up, Mike’s already staring back at him, brown eyes ploring into hazel. Insistent. “We should do it. For real.”

Will’s breath catches at the way it feels like he can see right through him, and he swallows hard at how sincere he sounds, even if he doubts the idea will ever get off the ground, if he figures that Mike will forget about it in a day or two. “Where would we even go?” Will says, humoring him.

“California,” Mike answers, like it’s obvious. “We can have the spring break that we never got to have back then. Well, except it would be summer, and we’d probably have to take my mom’s station wagon.”

Oh, something inside him seems to say as his lips part, just the slightest bit. He has so many questions, like why not invite the rest of the party? Or, maybe more pressing, why me? Why now? But with the hopeful smile Mike’s casting his way, radiant like a beacon in the dark, it’s hard to voice any of it, especially when his tongue has transformed into a bed of sandpaper. “It beats a pizza van,” he shrugs with a smile. “Yeah, let’s do it. But only if I get to help make the mixtape.”

Mike gives him a grin that somehow manages to challenge the one before it, face glowing as bright as Will had ever seen it, and really, that in itself is enough for him to push past the swirling confusion in his chest. “Yeah,” Mike smiles. “It’s a deal.”

#stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #byler #byler fic #byler big bang #byler art #byler moodboard #byler big bang promo #byler big bang 2022

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annaphoenix1994 · 1 year

Text

Ch.125 - Gaining Leverage

Previous Chapter - Masterlist 1; Masterlist 2 - Next Chapter

Phil and Tokala discuss their partnership; Baler and Simon have a talk; Baler learns new information about Kiera and also tells Simon about his new love interest at school.

Author's Note: Yes, this chapter is over 4k words with a bit of pending drama as well as a lot of fluff between Simon and Baler. I just love their journey together and how they truly view each other after their hardships. It makes my heart melt! Also, just in case anyone was curious: I start my new job tomorrow and I'm still slowly getting back on my feet! Money is still hard to come by right now, but I'm still able to manage and get food for myself as well as take care of my animals. Thankfully, this new job pays every week, so I'm so happy about that. I also have a set schedule so that it'll be easier to plan things throughout the day! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Hopefully I'll have another out in a couple of days!

“The value of the land is basically worthless without a water source, I’m afraid.” A lead executive on Tokala’s team explained.

“Worthless?” Adam, Phil’s lead executive on the project, scoffed. Aside from his arrogance, Phil thoroughly enjoyed the man’s cockiness when negotiating a deal. “A 40-acre goat farm sold for 3 million in the county over.”

“With a water source.”

“The water table on our property is 30 feet. I could dig a fucking well by hand.”

“I’d love to see that!” Angela fired back, far from intimidated from Adam’s negotiation tactics. “Your client already accepted our offer, you’re just supposed to red line the fine print if I must remind you of what your job entails.”

Tokala smirked with amusement.

“The fine print is shit. You get our land for free and then write off construction costs for years before we even see a dime?” Adam scoffed. “Phil, fucking Indian Tribes trying to steal your land.”

“The only reason you’re not choking on irony is the size of your mouth!” Angela snarled.

“Must I remind everyone that our goal here is to make a deal.” Natalie sighed.

“We agreed to a percentage as payoff. I can’t afford your asking price and build my desired project.” Tokala explained.

Phil shook his head, “I know how this works. You won’t spend a cent on construction. You’ll go to Chase or Rocky Capital and take a loan for the build. You’ll outsource the management except for promised jobs for family or friends. You’ll negotiate a heaping consulting fee for yourself and give speeches about how this will have a positive impact to the community with how much income will be brought in for schools and hospitals,” He explained, drawing in everyone’s attention by how great the future sounded coming from his mouth. “I oversaw the Las Vegas Lottery and partnered with managing casinos along the Strip. I helped write the book on this shit and I’m fine with all of this, but all I’m offering is that my piece of the pie will be just as big as yours.”

“I have no family to give jobs to, and my only friends are my partners in this business. Every dime of profit will go exactly where I say it goes. We both want the same thing, just different reasons.”

“Tokala, I look at the contract and I honestly can’t tell what you want.”

“Let me simplify it: I want everything the Jackson Valley Ranch sits on! I want that ranch and everything north towards Yellowstone and south towards Hot Springs. Do this with me and I’ll split it with you.”

“There’s probably not even a handful of people on this entire planet that can afford that ranch. You and I aren’t one of them.”

“You’re a billionaire, no?”

“Yes, but the only reason I am is because I’m smart with my money. I discuss strategies before falling through with a deal.”

“I have a plan for that, too.”

“Then what is it?”

“I only tell my plans to my partners. You and I aren’t partners… yet.”

“I’m not going to try and sabotage a deal here, Phil,” Adam spoke up, hating the sudden silence that fell between the two. “If you cede ownership of the land, would there be any worry of being pushed out by the opposing party?”

“And assume that Phil will get nothing?” Tokala arched his brow. “Is that what you assume my plan is?”

“Of course not. We’re just trying to be smart about this, too.”

“Strategize,” Phil corrected. “Is there a way that the percentage of the profit could become a percentage of ownership at the casino?”

“Unfortunately, the Tribal Gaming Commission will never license you,” Tokala answered with a sigh.

“Well, what about the hotel? We make the casino a separate structure – I own the hotel, you own the casino?” Phil proposed.

“That could work.” Natalie nodded, crossing her arms.

“I agree,” Adam nodded before looking back to Tokala. “I’ll draft a proposal. We don’t require a response right away, it’s just something to think about.”

“Of course.”

“Since we are all on the same page with the land, I would like to address a possible solution to these issues. I’ve gotten attorneys for the Clean Water Act and we are filing a lawsuit against Kiera Dutton for rerouting the river to alter the flow of the waterway. Since we have filed, we will present it to the EPA. Yellowstone Cutthroat Trout reside in these rivers, which is a food source for majority of the Grizzly Bears and Black Bears that wander through from the park,”

“Continue…” Tokala requested, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

“Which is a violation of the Endangered Species Act.”

“Which is also a felony.” Adam finished.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

“She has already been served the papers. I just figured I’d tell you the strategies after filing.” Natalie giggled.

“Good work.”

Kiera arrived home with a heavy sigh, eager to see her children and husband after a long day of staring at a computer screen. Unzipping her boots once she walked through the door, she mindlessly pushed them aside before hanging her coat on the rack as well as her purse, purposely leaving her phone somewhere inside as the smell of cooked beef flooded her nostrils. “What’s for dinner?”

“Baler suggested hamburger helper and it was easy enough for me to make,” Simon chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he continued to stir the ground beef. “Is that okay?”

“I have no problem with what you two decide to make for dinner,” She giggled, meeting him at the stove to stand on her toes so she could press a kiss to his lips, smiling when she heard Baler purposely gag at the sight as he was sitting on the countertop, clear that he and Simon were having a conversation prior to Kiera arriving home. “Want me to make some sides?”

“We already have that covered, momma,” Baler snickered, leaning down so that she could greet him with a hug as well as kiss his forehead. “The twins are in the living room playing in their playpen. And before you ask, yes, I’ve been keeping an eye on them. Dad and I have been taking turns.”

“I know, baby. That’s why I didn’t ask,” She giggled. “I know you two always have them in your sights when I’m not home.”

“There’s also a slight change of plans, love…” Simon trailed off, causing her brows to furrow in confusion. “You know how we usually go to your mum’s for dinner on Wednesday’s? Well, I asked her if she’d rather come over here tonight.”

“Okay. I’ll be glad to see her over here so I can show her the Christmas tree I bought!”

“We’re really putting up a Christmas tree?—” Baler scoffed, dreading the day that he’d have to help Kiera put it up in the living room. Although he loved Kiera and Simon as his parents, putting up a Christmas tree as well as other holiday festivities is where he drew the line.

“We sure are and you’re going to help your dad chop it down.”

“Chop it down?” Simon asked suddenly, both he and Baler questioning her at the same time with the same look on their faces.

“That’s right. Mom knows a guy who was friends with dad since high school and he owns a tree farm. She and I both bought a new tree this year, so we’ll have two to put up,” She smirked. “We pick them up this weekend.”

“Bloody hell,” Simon sighed. “Looks like our hunting trip is postponed until Sunday, lad.”

“If you two want to complain about it, I’ll just do it myself.” Kiera arched her brow.

“No, we’ll do it.” Baler assured her.

“That’s how she does it, lad. It just took me three years to figure it out.”

“How she does what?”

“She’ll volunteer us to do something at the last minute, then pout when she hears me complain about it so I’ll feel guilty but even though I may not want to spend my Saturday chopping down a bloody tree, I’ll still do it because it makes her happy.”

“You sure did save yourself on that one, babe,” Kiera huffed, crossing her arms over her chest while she watched him and Baler smirk at her reaction. “I’m going to go change and find an outfit to wear tomorrow. You two sit and complain to each other while I’m gone.”

“I think you made her mad.” Baler whispered.

Simon shook his head, “No, I know when she’s mad. She can dish out the jokes but can’t take ‘em when I shoot back,” He said, knowing Kiera could in fact take a joke, but he was still in a playful mood. “One thing you’ll learn about women is that they love to volunteer us for things they can’t physically do because they know we’ll do it for them.”

“Why?”

“Because men are providers, kid. I’m going to sound old fashioned when I say this, but it’s the truth,” He shrugged, turning off the burner to the stove after the ground beef was done cooking to strain it in the sink before putting it into the mixture of the hamburger helper to let it simmer. “Women provide us by giving us children and the least we can do is be a helping hand when she needs it, but our main goal is to make sure our women are safe and feel like they’re safe when they’re with us because unfortunately, this world is too cruel for women because some men make it that way. It’s up to us to keep that part of the world away from the ones we love.”

“Didn’t think you could be so sentimental, dad.” Baler teased.

“I can be when I want, but don’t let your mum hear that,” He chuckled playfully. “She’s given me more than just the twins, but when she had those two, I watched her change completely from the woman I knew before to someone I didn’t think could be better.”

“What was mom like when you met?”

Simon breathed a chuckle, “She was wild. I’ve never met a woman that could physically terrify a man twice her size in my life.”

“Are you talking about yourself?” Baler snickered.

“If I’m going to be honest, yeah, she intimidated me – she still does sometimes.”

“She was in the military too, right?”

“If you want to refer to it like that, yeah.”

Simon glanced at Baler through his peripheral vision when he heard him scoff out of slight annoyance, “Dad, why are you so secretive about it? I’m old enough to understand these things…”

He huffed before stepping away from the stove to glance towards the hallway, seeing that their bedroom door was shut and listened for the sound of running water from the pipes below the floor, assuring himself that she couldn’t overhear what he was about to say next. “You think you’re old enough to understand?”

“I know I can.”

“Just promise me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“You can’t look at her any different than how you do now. If what I’m about to tell you changes that, it should be how you can appreciate her more than you do now. She wouldn’t want you to feel sorry for her because it wasn’t her fault—”

“Dad, you’re scaring me…”

“Just promise me.”

“O-Okay, I promise.”

“That woman who came to the house while we were gone, that was Kiera’s supervisor in the C.I.A. She’s been involved in many missions that I was a part of too. When Kate shows up, serious things are about to happen—”

“So she’s about to leave?—”

“No, she’s not going anywhere, but I might have to—”

“Don’t leave.”

“It’s my duty, lad,” He arched his brow. “Only if I must. I met Kiera on a mission in Mexico. Unexpected for sure, but we worked alongside each other for a while before I developed feelings,”

“So, while it was raining bullets you were over there simping for my mom?” Baler snickered.

“Wh-? What does that mean?”

“What?”

“That word? Simp?”

“Oh, it’s like you were too focused on her when there were more important things going on or something like that,” Baler shrugged. “Like you were begging for her attention.”

“Not at the time, no. She definitely caught my eye, but when I’m on a mission, I’m focused on what I’m supposed to be doing because any mistake or delay and it’s your life and the life of others you’re risking.”

“So how does this factor into what you’re so secretive about telling me?”

“Got sidetracked,” Simon huffed. “Anyway, long story short, when we returned from leave, we were working with a commander who she had been investigating for tyranny. He found out she was investigating him, so when we got back, he forced her into his possession to find out any answers. When we found her, she was nearly unrecognizable – nearly beaten to death. I didn’t have to ask her what happened because it was obvious. More time went by before we found out our target was in Chicago. We get there, do our mission, and things took a turn for the worst—”

“Are you talking about that bombing that happened?” Baler questioned. “I heard that it was like the bombing that happened in Boston—”

“It turned into being a bombing, but it was originally a stealth mission,” He corrected.

“Were you there?”

“I held a sniping position on the adjacent building, yes.”

“That’s so fucking cool—”

“Focus, lad,” Simon reminded sternly. “On their way back to the main floor, Kiera, my Captain, and Sergeant along with some Marines were hit with an RPG. Johnny was the one who found her while I was making my way to the ground from the building I was in. Although I was terrified then, I still found it quite funny how the first thing she thought of after getting hit with an RPG was to bum a cigarette,” He breathed a laugh.

“So… She lived through getting blown up?”

“Obviously,” Simon scoffed. “And she didn’t get blown up, she got the worst of the hit when the RPG came through the building. Price was the one who used himself as a shield to protect her, but he was too late when he did and she ended up getting the worst of it.”

“Is… Is that why she has that scar on her face?”

Simon nodded.

“And the ones on her back?”

“How did you know about those?”

“I’m not stupid, dad. I noticed the first time she wore a dress the first summer I had with you guys and her shoulders and back looked like pepperoni. I knew they were scars instead of some birthmark.” He scoffed.

“Okay, but let’s not compare the looks of them to anything. She’s already self-conscious about it—”

“She shouldn’t. She’s just more of a badass than I thought she was already,” Baler shrugged. “How… How bad are they?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… Is it her entire back that looks like that?”

“Yes.”

“Does it bother you?”

Simon furrowed his brows, “Does it bother me?”

“Yeah, like does it bother you that she looks like that now. Like, I’m not saying it to be mean because she doesn’t look bad, but… I don’t know. One of my friends dumped his girl because she got in a car wreck and is paralyzed now—”

“That’s not a friend, kid. Sounds like a bastard.”

“He is.”

“I wouldn’t continue to be his friend if I were you. I was on patrol that day I got the call about a wreck. I watched them pull that girl from that car and the first thing she asked was to call her boyfriend. And to now learn that he dumped her for it?”

“Fucked up, isn’t it?”

“Surely.”

“Still didn’t answer my question though.”

“The only thing that bothers me is that I wasn’t there to take the blow instead of her. Not once did it change how I felt about her. The only thing that changed was having to be more cautious around her. It’s been years, but she’s still healing from it. Her skin is very sensitive now and I must make sure she doesn’t overdo it when she does things she likes.”

“Is her skin sensitive or something?”

Simon nodded, “She doesn’t know it, but she aches when she lays too long on her back while she’s sleeping. I guess it’s because those grafts feel kind of tight to her, especially on areas as sensitive as her legs. I don’t sleep very well anyway, but I physically move her throughout the night in hopes of her not being sore in the morning.”

“Husband of the year,” Baler poked playfully, although he wasn’t going to admit that the new information, he just learned about how his father did acts of love for Kiera absolutely melted his heart. “So you really are a genuine man.” He teased.

“I don’t do it for the title, I do it because I love her. That’s what I meant when I said that us men are to provide for the ones we love. She gave me those kids and the least I could do is make it easier for her any time I can and more. So if she ends up wanting six trees to set up around the house, then you can bet your arse I’m going to cut down six trees.”

“Can you tell me more?”

He watched Simon shake his head, “I’m afraid I shouldn’t. I’ve already told you more than you need to. Just hold to your promise and don’t look at her any different.”

“You know I will.”

“Well, try not to make it obvious—”

“I’m going to look at her the way you said.”

“And what did I say?”

“To appreciate her more and that she wouldn’t want me to feel sorry for her,” He answered confidently. “Although I feel bad because I hug her kind of hard. Like I didn’t know it probably hurts and I don’t think about that stuff… I don’t want to stop hugging her, though.” He frowned.

“Then don’t stop hugging her, lad,” He assured him. “She’s never said anything about hurting afterwards, but I know she’s stubborn.”

“Should I just put my arms around her neck instead of her body?”

Simon nodded in agreement, seeing how concerned Baler was regarding the new information he had just learned. “Makes sense as to why sometimes I hear her wince when I do hug her every day.”

“It’s okay. She knows you don’t know about as to why she’s still sore from what happened—”

“She’d never tell me, either.”

“No, but that’s why I did. Even though you kept asking me to tell you.” He chuckled.

“Well, now I know what you expect of me when it comes to treating women… I can really use that advice now I’ve got a girlfriend…”

“You what?” Simon arched his brow.

“We’re not official… Yet.”

“Well, since you two aren’t “official,” you have plenty of time to make things right so that you can treat her well. What’s her name?”

“Holly.”

“Is that the girl—”

“-From the wreck,” Baler answered. “The one in the wheelchair.”

“You better treat her well, you understand?”

“Why do you think I wanted you to talk about mom?”

Simon tilted his head in confusion.

“Don’t make fun of me after I tell you this…”

“I’m offended that you think I would.”

Baler playfully rolled his eyes before looking to the floor, twiddling his thumbs in nervousness as he spoke, “I asked you to talk about mom because you get carried away. Yeah, I’m always curious about what you two did for work, but I’m really taking mental notes… I see how you talk about her and how you treat her and I just… I want to be you.”

Simon looked down towards the floor, unable to grasp the realization that he was an inspiration to someone. He really does look up to me, he thought, recalling the moment Kiera had told him how Baler felt about Simon. You were right, love.

“You… want to be me?”

“Yes. I don’t have the first fucking clue on how to take care of a girl, let alone taking care of a girl that can’t quite do the same things as me. She can’t walk on her own and is in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. I got made fun of because I confessed to my friends that I liked her and I thought I was in the wrong because my own friends thought it was stupid and I felt bad for telling them to fuck off, but I like her for who she is—”

“Please tell me you’re not still friends with them.”

“No, I’m not. At first I pushed myself away from her because I thought I had the same mindset as my friends and didn’t want to cause her more of a heartache, but this past week I’ve done nothing but help her out and pushed my so-called friends away because being around her made me happier.”

“That’s good, kid. So why haven’t you two made it official yet? You’re already referring to her as your girlfriend.”

“Did I?” He asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“You sure did. Looks like your heart has already decided for you.”

“But what if… what if I’m too fucked up to date her? I have a problem with my temper, I take forever to do things right—”

“I can assure you, we’ve both had our fair share of being “fucked up”. The only difference between you and I is that it took me 30 years to realize it and you had someone to save you from yourself.”

“That’s why I want to be you.”

The pair looked at each other for a few moments, now truly understanding their role in each other’s lives. Kid, as much as you’ve gotten on my nerves in the beginning, I’m sure glad you’re in mine and Kiera’s life.

On the other side of the closed bedroom door, Kiera sat with her back against it as she wept grateful tears, Kimber’s jaw laying on top of Kiera’s thigh as her fingers slowly moved through the Corgi’s fur. She failed to hear the entire conversation and felt bad for eavesdropping, but her heart was swelling with pride and love at the bond between Simon and Baler that distinctly grew over time. Babe, you were meant to find him that day.

“She will be your first girlfriend, yeah?”

“I hope so.”

“I’m sure you’ll be glad to tell your mum all about it.”

“I’m terrified to tell her. Can I wait a bit longer?”

“Why’re you terrified?”

“Because she’ll skin me alive if I do something wrong. I love her to death, but I also don’t want to risk messing up…”

“She won’t. Me and her have messed up a lot. That’s what makes us work. There’s not a relationship on this planet that has worked without mistakes. You’re going to make a lot of mistakes, even if you have us to guide you. It’ll show how you are as a man and how you handle things. This lass you’re talking to will see that, too. How you react and handle things shows her everything she’ll need to know about her relationship with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, for example: if you and her are talking in the hall at school and the kids that were picking on you for liking her came up and made a cheeky comment. If you defend her without question, then she’ll feel safe with you and want to reside in you. If you just let them make their comment or even laugh along with them, she’ll feel humiliated and want to distance herself. Remember what I said.”

“You already know what I’d do.”

“I’ve seen your temper,” Simon chuckled. “If you can defend your lass like you defended Kiera that day Brady was causing trouble, I have full confidence in you.”

“But he beat my ass—”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you stood your ground and didn’t hesitate to risk getting hit again to defend yourself and your mum.”

“Yeah, well, you need to teach me how to fight because watching you beat him up was so cool.”

“I’ll show you one day.”

“What ever happened to him anyway?”

“…Let’s just say he found his way to work on another ranch…”

#simonghostriley #simonriley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #callofduty #simon riley x oc #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost riley #simon riley x og female

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thatsalrightprettymama · 2 years

Text

I Think I'm in Love

A/N: Thank you so much @smbonilla2002 for requesting this! I loved this song and I'll be honest while the first movie played at the drive in I listened to it, wrote, and the story just came alive! I honestly never expected to write something this long, but despite it's length I'm really proud of this fic! I honestly hope you enjoy this! Thank you again from the bottom of my heart! You don't know how much it means to me to have you and others request work and interact with my work!

Also I'm sorry that this is all one post! My word started to mess up around the 5.5k mark and the easiest way to post it was to look at it in read only view and copy and paste in one go! I promise the next time I make content that looks like its gonna be near this link ill make a pause point and start another doc 😂😂.

Also last note, there are a bit of historical in accuracies.

1. I changed the year that Alice Cooper (Vincent Furniture), Chevy Chase, and Liza Manelli let Elvis in his International suite. They met in 1973, but for this story's sake they met in 1970.

2. Priscilla and Elvis split in 1972 and officiating the divorce in 73. For the story's sake they split and divorced in 68/69.

3. I also do not know the tour dates or schedule of Alice Cooper or Elvis in 70, so idk if their schedules lined up but for the story they did lol.

As always it's unedited, so I apologize for any mistakes! Criticism is always welcomed! I hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: Mentions of drug use, cussing, mentions of sex, mentions of domestic violence/abuse, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort.

Buzzing you stood outside the International Hotel with you brother Vinny, or as the rest of the world new him as, Alice Cooper. “Y/N. Don’t be weird. “Vinny tells you sternly, his dark eyes boring into yours. “The only way I got you in was saying you were my assistant, and I didn’t go anywhere without you on tour. Per manager’s request. “He tells you as you two stand in the dry Vegas air. “Wow, way to make me seem like I’m the weirdo of the family, and I don’t care whatever you had tell them, I’m Just glad I made that promise when I was seven. “You tell your older brother shooting him a smirk as you remind him of how surreal this night is about to get. “Exactly! Which is why I said don’t get weird.” He tells you with a loving smile as he hugs you. As your older brother wraps his slender arms around you, he gets oddly emotional.

“I love you Y/N, and I know how much this moment means to us both. Thank you for being there since the begging, and always in my corner. I remember showing you your first Elvis film, and I remember when I first played “Let’s Have A Party” for you and you made me promise that when I got famous like him that I’d let you meet him, but I swear I don’t care how famous I get I’m not going to let you meet Lennon. He’d steal my sister.” He tells you causing your heart to warm as you squeeze him in the hug. “Vinny, I love you. You’re my hero. Now we better stop, or I’ll cry and be weird.” You tell him as you two release the hug. After taking a moment to take it all in, you two head into the huge building.

As you two go into the Hotel, you couldn’t help but think of how awesome the night was going to be when you saw Chevy Chase and Liza Manelli standing near the portly older man that was Elvis’s manager. Having spent time with your brother in his journey to fame you have met a lot of people. Yes, you’ve gotten star-struck before, you’ve also learned to hide it. Though while you already knew it, you really were going to have to use all your might not to gush tonight. As the group starts to walk to the elevator you take a small moment to fall a pace behind with Vinny to link pinkie and then touch your own nose with your pinky. A small ritual since childhood that’s become a slight comforting action. You two quickly join the elevator, and head to the penthouse suite with the group.

Once the door opened you could hear the faint sound of music and laughing come from another room from the huge, beautiful hotel room. Following Parker, you, and everyone else joined Elvis and his Memphis Mafia boys. While you held a small smile, you internally screamed as you saw the backside of The King in a jumpsuit. You also couldn’t help but notice his laugh was dreamier in real life than in movies or interviews. Thankfully you keep your composer when he turns around and introduces himself and everyone.

As the small get together gets going you start to relax. You start talking to Liza at first, finding out you two had a mutual love for shoes, you realize quickly that you can’t drink near Chevy, or you’ll die chocking on it from laughing, and You have a really interesting conversation about Johnny Cash and music with Billy Smith. Overall, the night was surreally amazing. Though you didn’t know how much better it was about to get when Elvis come’s and sit’s beside you. Especially, not knowing that your brother let it slip that you wanted to meet him. Which kind of intrigued Elvis, because you hadn’t interacted with him since he shook your hand when he was introducing himself. “Hey little darlin’, how are you tonight?” The handsome older gentlemen asks you, his deep southern drawl secretly melting you. “I’m doing pretty great, thank you for inviting us and letting us be here. “You tell him smiling at him. Unable to help the slight blush as the dark-haired beauty flashed you a smile.

“That’s good doll, and thank you all for coming up, Alice has got an interesting act. It’s also sweet that despite how wild it is he snuck his girl to meet me.” The older man tells you as he smiles at you, though he stops when you bust out laufhing. “No, No I’m sorry. I’m definitely not with Alice, and I’m his assistant.” You told Elvis with a smile trying to keep the charade. Though you realize that doesn’t exactly work when he calls you out on it. “Darlin’ you’re too young to be his assistant, but going by how you laughed I’ll believe you ain’t his girl.” He tells you as his curiosity gets peaked. “Who are you then?” He asks bluntly, though his drawl softened it. That or you were biased to it due to how it made you feel. “Promise not to tell? He’d have my hide,” You ask him sweetly smiling at him. You subconsciously bite your lip as he chuckles and nods. “I’m his little sister.” You tell the older man, seeing no real reason to lie to him. If they didn’t like it well I mean it’d suck but also at the very least you met him.

“Really?” Elvis asks, leaning back into his seat as you get comfortable. As you nod confirming, you tell him and you two begin to talk. Despite the age difference, you two quickly bond over music, also talk about some movies, and you two actually skim some talks about future hopes. Before you two now it, you two have talked the rest of the night away. Though before you leave, you end up with an invitation to lunch with Elvis at the same suite tomorrow when he found out you and your brother would be there for two more days. As you leave the hotel your brother tells you, “Listen what I’m about to say is only because I love ya, and he’s Elvis. Just be careful.” You give your brother a look you bite your lip and take in his words briefly. Though you, unknowingly falsely, assure him by saying, “I know, but also you know what I said after Corey. “ “Yeah, but never say never.” He tells you with a knowing look before you two head back to your hotel.

The next morning you woke up smiling, something that your brother couldn’t help but to tease you about before you started to get ready for your lunch with Elvis. As you walk into the international, you see one of Elvis’s friends, Billy, that you met last night. “Hey girly, EP sent me to get ya.” Billy tells you as you walk towards him. “Probably best, I don’t think there’d be a lunch if he came down.” You quip to the older man with a smile as you two head up to Elvis’s suite. As you two walk into the suite, you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything Elvis would look bad in when you see him in a black floral shirt and pants that looked tighter than your skirt. “Hey little darlin’ I hope you don’t mind I sent Billy down.” The older man greets you with a smile, bringing you into a friendly hug as you ignore the butterflies that try to stir. “I don’t mind at all, How’s your morning been?” You ask as you break apart and he leads you to living room. “Pretty good, but a whole lot better now I getta see your pretty face. How about you?” He flirts, his deep voice carrying the words so smoothly that you couldn’t help the faint blush that brushed your cheeks as you two sat down.

“Well, I’m glad that my presence can help improve your morning, I tend to have that effect. “You flirt back at Elvis, using every bit of confidence you had to make sure despite how you internally felt, you weren’t seen as that giggling schoolgirl. Whatever this was, all it could ever be was fun was what you told yourself as you watch something flash in his cerulean blue eyes before he smiles and chuckles. Though he quickly laughed when you quickly added. “ Though depending on who you ask I can bring trouble.” Leaning into the couch he puts his arm on the back as you relax. Surprisingly your conversation flows easily as you two continue to flirt and talk for a bit. After a while though he asks you, “Well I did invite you for lunch, I’ll be honest I don’t cook much would you be fine with room service? I don’t want to interrupt our time with crowds.” You smile at him sweetly and nod before telling him, “I’d be fine with room service; I totally understand in small way. While Alice doesn’t have your reaction, it’s still a bit weird sometimes when he does”. “Yeah, I love my fans, but sometimes it’s exhausting playing Elvis.” He tells you honestly, making a part of your heart hurt for him. “I’d imagine so, while I’d say it’s euphorically surreal to be you, that also comes at a hefty price.” You comment as he hums and nods. Your conversation pauses while he orders you two some lunch, but it quickly picks back up while you two wait for your food.

As you two continued to talk and get to know each other, you think to yourself that you’ve honestly never met anyone like him. He was so charming, funny, kind, but also real. Something you’ve lacked since living in California. The food around and the conversation lulls some as you two take it to the table and sit, but it’s not long before it starts back up again. The whole time you two eat you shove the butterflies down and try not to think too much about how much of a good time you’re having. Shortly after you two finish eating you look at the time, and realize you’ve been there most of the day. Not wanting to overstay your welcome you tell Elvis, “Thank you for inviting me, and for lunch, but I’ve probably taken up enough of your time. Plus I should probably get back to the tour bus and help Shep wrangle Alice out of whatever trouble he’s gotten himself in today.” Flashing you a charming smile he smoothly tells you, “Little darlin’ you could take up all my time, and I think I’d still wanna spend more with ya.” You feel your cheeks burn as you biting your lip as you watch him smirk. “Damn you’re smooth.” You comment causing him to through his head back as he laughed. “There’s a reason, besides my voice, they call me the king.” He cockily flirts causing you to giggle and shake your head as he adds, “I’d like it if you stuck around longer and maybe see my show tonight, but I also understand if you really do have to get back to your brother doll.” You have a small internal debate as Elvis watches you waiting for your answer. One hand you’d stay all day with him and see the show, but that also could lead to trouble. Biting your lip you compromise with yourself and ask the older man, “Well, I would like to spend more time with you, but I should go check in with my brother. Maybe if it’s alright I can go back to the tour bus and I can come back for your show?” Elvis smiles, but a small part of him wonders about your hesitation. Ignoring it he can’t help but think of how pretty your smile is as you nod.

“That sounds good to me Y/N. You alright with me having Billy get ya again when you come back?” He checks with a smile before asking, “Do you have an idea what time you’d be here? The show starts at 8. “. “That’s fine with me, and how about 7? “You ask as he nods, smiling back at him you stand up from the couch, him following suit. Elvis walked you to the door, and hugged you goodbye before you left the suite. As you happily made your way out of the International, a small part of you worried if your brother’s warning was warranted. Shaking your head, you assured yourself that this was just something fun as you left the hotel and headed back to your brother’s bus.

As you get back to the bus you see your brother sitting at the small table with Shep. “How’d lunch go?” He asks with a smile, pausing his talk with Shep. “It was good, I’m going back later to see his show.” You tell him as you grab a glass from the small kitchenette and start to get some water, not noticing the look that flashes in Vinny’s eyes. “That’s good, and really? That’ll be fun, just don’t have more fun than you have at mine.” He teases deciding not to comment, while you’re always going to be his little sister you were twenty now. You had to experience life without him trying to shield you, besides he already failed at shielding you with Corey. You scoff and shake your head before teasing your brother back, “You’re just saying that cause you know I will.” You smiled warmly when he laughed before going back to his conversation with his manager.

Thankfully the hours fly by and before you know it, it’s time to get ready. While looking through your suitcase, you tell yourself that the type of people at the show is why you’re pulling out the short blue dress that you had buried under all your clothes, the one of the only non-leather or denim item in your suitcase. Getting changed and doing your make-up, you leave the bus and excitedly head to the International again. You smile as you see Billy in the lobby. “EP’s in trouble if you’re gonna walk in lookin’ like that.” He jokes as you walk up to him causing you to laugh. “Yeah right, I’ll take the compliment, but I doubt it’ll phase him much.” You tell the older man with a smile as he shakes his head with an eye roll. “Whatever doll, you ready to see EP?” He asks as he leads you down a hallway. “Of course, I wouldn’t come out in this dry heat for you.�� You tease him with a smile as he laughs. “Are you this much of a little shit to EP, or am I just special?” He asks teasingly shoving you as you laugh. “I only save it for you and Alice, you should’ve never bonded over Johnny with me.” You tease as he continues to lead the way to Elvis’s dressing room.

As you finally reach the door, you smiled as you saw him in a white and jeweled jumpsuit. “Here’s your little wild child. “ Billy announces as you to enter, making you bite your lip at the look Elvis gives you when he turns around. You can’t ignore how your cheeks burn as he gaze wakes over you. “Woah little darlin’ you look amazing.” Elvis compliments you, his deep southern voice making your cheeks burn more as he comes over and hugs you. “Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself sir.” You lamely flirt back, glad he chuckles at it, wishing your face wasn’t as red as it was. “Thank you doll, how’s your evening been?” He asks as he leads you to a couch in the room. “You wanna drink or anythin’ doll?” He offers as you sit. Shaking your head no you smile and answer, “No I’m good thank you though. It’s been alright just listened to him and Shep talk shop.” Putting his arm behind you he turns his body to face you as you two talk. Even though you two didn’t have too much time together before you had to go to your seat, it was just as fun as before leaving you feeling a bit weightless.

In your seat you people watch a bit before you hear the opening music. Excitedly you pull your eyes to the stage and you’re thankful that he can’t hear the gasp that comes from your lips as the curtains rise. As he begins the first note you become intoxicated by his command of the stage, hell of the whole room. With wide elated eyes you watch the whole show entranced. When it’s over Billy comes to take you backstage. As you walk through the door, you see Elvis with a towel around his neck as he gets him a drink. “That was an amazing show! Probably the best show I’ve ever seen.” You compliment the older man, causing him to turn around and smile at you. “It was a good show, I’m glad you liked it doll.” Elvis tells you with a small smile. “I loved it.” You tell him with a smile. Hanging in the dressing room for a bit you and Elvis talk before he invites you up to his room.

You follow him up, and despite what you first thought when he invited you up after the show, nothing sexual happens. You two end up literally spending the night talking and joking until the early hours of the morning, when Elvis gets a call from the Colonel because Vinny had Shep call him looking for you. “I know you said you got a few weeks left of touring with your brother, but here’s my room number. I’ll be here for atleast a month, and I’d really like to hear from you again Y/N. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, and I wanna know you more. “ Elvis tells you before you leave his room. Ignoring the butterflies and a small voice telling you don’t take it you’ll get hurt, you take the small slip of paper with a smile. “I’ve really liked getting to know you too Elvis, and I’ll give you a call.” You tell him before you leave.

When you get back to the bus, Vincent bitterly swallows the lecture he wanted to give when he saw your tired and happy smile. As he listens to you talk about the show and Elvis, he resists the urge to tell you again to be careful. Giving your brother a hug, you both go to bed and get ready to leave the bustling desert city tomorrow. It’s not till two days later that you let yourself call Elvis and end up starting a new daily routine. As the next three weeks fly by, and when you find yourself missing the older man or wanting to see him, that it doesn’t mean anything deep. You continue to lie to yourself, even when you call him on the last night of your brother’s tour.

You’re playing with the payphone’s cord as you tell him, “The crowd was so wild tonight, I can’t believe tour’s over. I know I’m just a tag-a-long, but I kind of like the traveling.” “That is probably one of the highlights of touring, getting to see all the different places and people. Though you really like all that travelin’ though doll?” Elvis asks you as a rash idea pops into his head. “Yeah I really do, I mean yeah it’s tough and it can be tiring hopping from one city to another, I really like knowing I’m going all around this country getting to have all kinds of experiences I’d never have if I never left Phoenix.” You tell him honestly as the cool night air breezes against you. “Well darlin I’m actually going to do a US tour after this Vegas stint ends in two weeks. Would you maybe wanna be my tag-a-long for it?” Continue to play with the cord you don’t acknowledge how happy the question made you. “Would you really want me to be a tag-a-long?” You ask him chewing on your lip. “I would want nothing more doll, so you gonna go on tour with me?” He asks you again. “Alright if you really want me to, I’d love to be your tag-a-long!” You tell him not able to help the smile that lights up your face.

“Great! It’ll be fun doll, plus it’ll be nice to finally see your face again.” He flirts with you after hearing your answer. You two continued to talk till Shep gave you the signal to get back on the bus. “I gotta go or they’re gonna leave me here Elvis, but I can’t wait to tour with ya. “ You tell him starting your goodbyes as you hear his deep chuckle on the line. “I can’t wait either darlin’.” He tells you before you continue your goodbye. “I’ll call you when I get back to California, and we’ll talk more about me joining you. “ You tell him before you hang up and quickly go back to the bus. You excitedly tell your brother the news of your new trip, and while he listens to you he can’t help but think that you’re gonna get hurt. Rather it be due to your own fault or by the iconic man that’s wormed his way into your life, Vincent doesn’t think there’s a way for this to end scrape free. Though he keeps it himself, well he tries to until it’s the night before you leave to meet Elvis in Vegas again.

You were staying over Vinny’s house, spending your last night in town with him. You were sitting on his apartment balcony smoking a joint when he came out with two glasses of whiskey. Peaking your interest as he hands you one, and while you exhale your smoke you take it. Though your curiosity raises when he asks you, “Can I talk to you sissy?” You put your joint out and nod as you take a drink. “Yeah, you know we always can, but I’m worried since you’re throwing out sissy. I haven’t heard that in a while. “ You answer him as you sense the mood turn a bit serious, which was rare for you two. “ It’s not really anything bad, it’s just I gotta get somethings off my mind before you go, I’m a bit worried about you going on this trip.” He admits to you causing you to take another drink of the amber liquid, letting it’s burn drown the small voice telling you that it’s right this trip will be trouble. “I know what you said after Corey, and I I get that. I really do, but also I’ve seen you since you’ve met Elvis. I haven’t seen you smile as much as you have in a while. I’m not complaining about that, but I’m worried about the reason for those smiles.” He tells you as he begins his speech, taking a moment to pause for a drink before continuing, “Either you’re gonna hurt yourself cause you won’t admit something’s there and miss it, or he’s really just taking it as it is and you do finally admit and he hurts you are the two scenarios running in my mind. Though I honestly believe it’s the first if I’m honest with you.”

“I can’t let myself fall in love again, not after Corey Vinny. I can’t let myself get that deep again.” You tell him honestly as you take another drink, looking away from the sadden look that flashes in his eyes. “I can’t let myself fall in love again and give someone that power over me. “You tell him as you look into your glass. “Whatever you and Corey had at the end wasn’t love Y/N. Yes, you two may have been in love at one time, but love doesn’t hurt like that. Love also doesn’t always turn into that; you can let yourself have it and it be good.” Your brother tells you softly, before biting his lip when you bring your head up to show watery eyes. “How do I trust that it won’t? How can I risk it?” You ask him softly, feeling like a small child again as you look up at Vinny.

Placing his drink down he kneels and pulls you into a weird side hug. “You just risk it, you do so much crazy shit all the time and take those risks. You just jump in.” He tells you as he comforts you. You two stay like that for a moment, before you break apart. Lighting your joint again you break the serious mood. “I don’t want are last hours to be some weird emotional shit. That ain’t us.” You tell him as you pass it to him, causing him to laugh and take a hit. You smoke with your brother and talk and joke before you two finally make your way inside his apartment. Going into the familiar guestroom you go to sleep excited and nervous for the next day. It hadn’t seemed like you were asleep long before your brother was waking you up to take you to the airport. Excitement buzzing within you and temporarily stomping out any nerves, you get up and quickly get ready. You say your goodbye to Vinny outside the airport, promising to call each night before going in.

The few hours it takes to land in Vegas thankfully fly by. While you walk through the airport with your luggage you excitedly look for Billy. As you walk around the baggage claim you thankfully find him. “There’s my favorite little shit! How’ve you been?” He asks giving you a brief hug before taking one of your bags. “I’m good! How’s my favorite asshole?” You teasingly ask as he leads you out of the airport. “Good, good, and alright except EP keeps driving us crazy about you comin.” He teases as he leads you towards a black car, you see a silhouette of someone and chalk it up to being another Memphis boy. “Sure sure. He doesn’t know what he signed up for. “ You tease with the man that’s become your only friend outside of Elvis in this circle. He rolls your eyes and goes to the trunk. As your helping him put your luggage up you finally notice who’s in the car. You can’t help the smile when you see Elvis wearing his sunglasses wearing a red shirt and pinstripe pants, waving at you in the back seat.

Excitedly you leave you stop helping Billy and get into the car as you hear him laugh. “Elvis!” You excitedly say as you hug his chuckling form in the seat. You ignore the fuzzy feeling you get as you feel his arms wrap around you. “Hey darlin’! I’ve missed you too.” He tells you smiling as you blush realizing your reaction. “Yeah sorry I guess I just missed seeing ya.” You bashfully say as he brushes a piece of you hair behind your ear. “S’alright darlin’, as I said I missed you too. How was your flight?” He asks sweetly as you relax in the car seat next to him, starting to realize how much you’ve really missed him. “It was good, are you excited for tour?” You ask while answering him, faintly hearing Billy close the trunk before he gets in the front. “I am, though I’m more excited to spend the next few weeks with you.” He honestly flirts as Billy starts to drive.

As you two catch up and flirt you begin the probably the wildest journey you’ve ever been on. Your day with Elvis at the international is the calm before the storm. The next day you adventure begins as you, Elvis, and his crew get on the tour buses and get ready. As the days and miles pass you get closer and closer to Elvis. Though a little over a week into tour, you should’ve realized you were in deep when you and him finally kissed in the late hours of the night on the tour bus. From that moment touches get more frequent and so do kisses, it’s not too much longer that those become heated. Every time you hugged, kissed, even fucked, you told yourself you two were just having fun. Leaving the older man confused but hooked. Though it all comes to a head shortly after the tour’s over.

It's the day after you two arrived at Graceland, and your naked body is sprawled over his as you two calm down from your highs. You lay your head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat as he rubs a hand up and down your back. You’re both quietly winding down before he asks, “What are we doin’ Y/N?” You keep you cheek pressed against his chest and look at the wall as you answer, “Laying here, unless that’s your way of asking for round two.” Purposefully avoiding the question, you knew he was really asking. “You know that’s not what I meant little girl.” He tells you with a scoff as you bite your lip. “I gotta know something darlin’. I can’t handle being left hangin’, wonderin.” He tells you firmly but gently as he takes his other hand to make you face him as you stay silent. “Please give me somethin’.” He tenderly pleads as you pause, feeling like his eyes were staring into your soul. “Please, I don’t want to lie to you Elvis. But I I can’t say it out loud and admit it. I’m scared of fallin’ in love again.” You tell him honestly, being the most vulnerable with the older man than you ever had been after a pause.

Your brothers words coming back into your mind and help fueling your honest confession as you bite your lip and watch his reaction. To your shock you see tenderness. “Oh baby, it’s always a bit of a terrifying rush but especially after you feel heartbreak. I’m worried about it too after what happened with Priscilla and I.” Elvis honestly tells you as his cerulean blue eyes gaze into Y/E/C eyes. “Yeah but what happened between you two’s a lot different than what happened between me and Corey. I know I don’t have to worry about you turning out like him, but it still scares me to fall back into love and let someone have that control over me. I lost myself after I left Corey.” You open up to him biting you lip as you start to absent-mindedly tracing on his chest. Deciding despite your heart hammering out of your chest, that you would listen to Vinny’s words and let yourself be honest with the man you’ve grown to love.

“If if I tell you the whole thing, do you promise not to look at me differently?” You ask confusing Elvis as he nods. “Course darlin’ I don’t think anything could change the way I see you.” He tells you softly, his plump lips pulling down some at how small you looked. “Vinny sees me differently. He won’t admit it but I know with how he treats me now. So please, please promise me you won’t too.” You plead looking into his eyes as you swallow another lump. “I promise Y/N.” He tells you tenderly as he waits for you to talk. You close your eyes and take a deep breath before opening you eyes back up to see Elvis’s worried look.

“I met Corey when I was a freshman in high school, he was a senior and I thought he hung the moon and the stars. I thought he was as cool as James Dean and as sweet as honey. He was at first.” You begin to tell Elvis, quickly averting your eyes to his chest as you continue on, “Everything was picture perfect for three years. I thought I was gonna marry him when I finished high school. Then something changed when I started my junior year.” You blink back the tears welling up and swallow a lump as you feel his warm hand start to rub circles on your back. “Darlin’ you don’t hav-“ Elvis goes to tell you as you pause before you thickly interrupt him, “No. No I gotta tell you Elvis. If I’m gonna finally admit my feelings and take that risk, you gotta know how fucked up I am.” While you feel Elvis hug you into his chest , you don’t see the heart-breaking look that flashed across his eyes at your interruption.

“At first it was just comments and critiques. I was so in love with him that I believed every word he said about me. Then I couldn’t please him, so I started getting small punishments for my mistakes. Still I fucking believed that he loved me, and that he was right. That I deserved every mark and ache. That if I was better that I could be enough.” You continue after your interruption, unable to start the tears from falling down your cheeks as you started to let it out. You hadn’t ever spoke about Corey to anyone besides Vinny, Shep, and Sheryl.

“Then when I started to finally smarten the fuck up, and realize that whatever we had then wasn’t love, I was fucking stuck. I was cut off from everyone, and sickly enough he was all I had. Vinny was in California, Mom and Dad couldn’t give a shit as long as I kept their godly image up. “ You continue to spew your soul, Elvis holding you the whole time his heart breaks for you. “Well I had finally gotten enough gumption to stand up to him, and he blew a fuse. The next thing I know is I’m waking up in the hospital and Vinny’s in the room crying. I know I don’t ever have to worry about that with you, but I just worry that if I let myself fall in love again it’ll just spoil and rotten.” You finally finish, unable to hold back your emotions. You bite your lip as you feel him gently cup you face to make you look at him, and the tender gaze he gives you make more tears appear. “Oh y/n darlin’ , I’m so sorry you went through that.” He tells you gently as he wipes your tears. “ First of all though, you’re not fucked up. If there’s anyone in that situation fucked up it’s that Corey bastard. “ Elvis tells you firmly but tenderly as he comforts you. “Though I honestly do get the fear part. I’m worried I’ll just run you off like I did Priscilla. “ He confesses to you as you sniffle, trying to stop your tears.

“Though while I can’t promise I won’t be a right ass at times, that it won’t be hard, I can promise that I’ll love you every day you let me.” He simply but honestly promises, his blue eyes staring into yours. You watch him chew on his bottom lip for a moment before asking,” I’m gonna ask again darlin’ and no matter the answer I’ll accept it and still want ya in my life. What are we doin’ Y/N?” Your heart hammers in your chest, and your flight response still screams to run despite you barring your soul to him. Swallowing a lump and honestly answer, your voice slightly raspy from crying, “I love you Elvis, I really do. I wanna try being in a relationship with you.” You watch as his face lights up and for once you don’t ignore the butterflies as he leans down and gives you a soft slow kiss. Pouring all his emotions into it as he presses his plush lips into yours. “I won’t be easy to be with.” You smally admit after you break apart, not helping the small smile as he chuckle, the sound vibrating his chest under you.

“That’s fine mama, I’m not easy to be with either.” Elvis tells you swipping his thumb across your cheek. “I love you Y/N,” He tells you sweetly causing your chest to warm. “Will you say it again?” You sweetly ask after a moment, looking up at him with doe eyes. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He tells you happily as he rolls you over, making you giggle as you feel his lips lightly trace your neck. “I love you.” He tells you again breathlessly as he stares down at you, As you reach up and place a hand on his cheek you tell him. “I love you Elvis Presley.” Embracing the butterflies as his smile lights his face up before you softly lean up and kiss him. You two happily but tiredly cuddling and basking in the moment. As you fell asleep you knew that this feeling, that Elvis, was worth the risk and while you didn’t know what was going to happen next, you knew you could face it all with the man next to you.

#Fic Req #Elvis Fic #Austin Elvis Fic #Elvis 2022 #Elvis #Fluff #angst #hurt/comfort

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reidjumpers · 3 years

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Sunday Afternoon

Spencer Reid x (implied) BAU!Reader

Warning: none! pure fluff, Spencer made a joke

Summary: Spencer asking you whether you want to have kids someday or not.

Note: again, as I said before, Dad!Spencer concept is something personal to me. This is him discussing with you about building families and having kids. AGAIN I'm no longer asking, I want Spencer to become a dad. Thank you.

“Do you want to have kids someday?”

You popped one eye open upon the question, your gaze meeting Spencer’s distracted face. He was staring into the television mindlessly that showcased a Master Chef episode. You had been hooking him up with some mindless TV show just to fill the time lately. He had never been a fan, but he strangely enjoyed Master Chef and The Great British Bake Off the most.

“Huh?” you shifted on your spot. Your head was on Spencer’s lap, and his fingers dutifully scratched your scalp soothingly just the way you liked it.

“I’d love to have one someday,” Spencer continued, ignoring your confused look and question. “I always wonder what it feels like to have a sibling. Or siblings.”

“You spent three Christmases in my parents’ house, you basically have a glimpse of what it feels like to have siblings.”

Spencer snorted. “Yeah. It’s always fun to see how you manage to find anything to argue about with your sister.”

“Or fight the remote with my brother,” you rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips quirked up at the thought.

Spencer laughed this time. He gently grabbed your hand and entwined your fingers together, bringing it closer to his lips to plant a soft kiss on your knuckles. Silence fell upon you comfortably, in such familiarity that didn’t leave you suffocating. You practically could see his gears turning inside his fast-paced mind, thinking about everything and nothing.

“I would love to someday,” you mused. Your finger mindlessly made a soothing circle pattern on his palm, indicating that you were thinking and rambling.

“To have kids?”

“Hmm-mm.” You gently pushed his arms away to sit up. Spencer gently pulled his arms away, eyes staring at you getting comfortable on your seat. You let out a sigh, hand loosely toyed with the hem of his hoodie. “Maybe two or three kids. Nothing more than that.”

“I want a house full of kids.”

“Spencer Reid, that means I have to get pregnant multiple times. I am not going to push that many babies of yours out of my body,” you deadpanned.

Spencer, however, grinned widely. “My babies?”

You could feel your face warmed up, but you fought it with an eye roll and a huff. “If you think I’d willingly carry any man’s baby that’s not yours, you’re crazy.”

Spencer laughed, “Are you proposing to become the mother of my children?” he grinned, so wide and childishly that you couldn’t help but to smile back. You still wanted to smack his head, however. “Is that what you’re implying?”

“Unless you have another person in mind, then yes.”

“I can’t think any other person that I’d partnered up to raise a child with.”

“Partner?” you cocked an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that what we are?” Spencer’s corner of lips quirked up in a teasing smile. “A partner? Co-workers?”

You snorted. “Co-workers that sleep together for three years, spend every holiday together, move in together, and get engaged a week ago?”

“Exactly.”

“Then we’re one hell of an amazing partner,” you whispered, caressing his face and smiled when Spencer immediately melted on your touch. “In my professional opinion, we’d make an amazing team to raise a child together.”

Spencer sighed. “In my professional opinion, we should get married.”

You smiled. “Too bad somebody already put a ring on me.”

Spencer laughed, shaking his head. He gently covered your hands on his face, thumb so slowly brushing your knuckles. “How mad do you think our friends would be if we run away to Vegas now and get married?”

“I think it’s my mom we should be worried about,” you laughed. “And Penelope. She’d terrorize us. And I don’t want to think about what she’d do in order to get us to throw a party.”

“I don’t need a party. I’d marry you here and then, I’d marry you in the bullpen if I have to.”

“Spencer Reid, I’d marry you in a dumpster. But we already have a venue waiting to be visited next weekend,” you gently reminded him.

Spencer wrinkled his nose. “Gross. But points taken.”

You laughed, and couldn’t help yourself to press a kiss on the tip of his nose. Spencer squeezed his eyes and scrunched his nose adorably in response, then managed to whine that you didn’t kiss him in the right place. You ignored his whine in favor of munching on a snack, and Spencer spent ten minutes pouting like a little kid.

You could imagine it as clear as the day, this place filled with laughter and a pitter patter of small feet running around the place. You could see Spencer beaming and being a loving dad, you had seen it almost every weekend with his godsons. You could see a future with white picket-fences together with him, a happy one that you deserved.

You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life together with him, that’s for sure. But you still had a wedding to go through, and you decided you’d go one step at the time.

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

Honest and Truly

Summary: Spencer has his prom 10 years late, but none of that matters when it's with the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female (She/Her)-- Fluff

CW: Minimal vulgar language (PG-13)

Author's Note: This just might be my most favorite thing I've written in a very long time :) Also listen to the song I linked, it makes the title and the ending make more sense! thank you to @spookydrreid and @writhingintheroses for helping me a particular scene!!

Add yourself to my taglist! It makes it much easier for me :)

Honest and Truly

“A prom?” Spencer asks, realizing that the conversation had entered uncharted territory, a territory in which he had not a single clue how to navigate. Spencer, being a preteen in high school, never attended prom.

“Yes, Reid. A prom,” Penelope says, staring at him over the many monitors and stuffed cats that littered her desk, “It’s going to be so much fun!” she says, excitedly.

“That sounds like, uh, I’ll have plans that night,” Spencer tells Penelope, spinning around in the swivel chair as he eats his turkey and cheese sandwich. He usually enjoys their lunches together, but when Penelope gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

@s“Now I don’t believe that for a second, Reid. The only time that you have plans is when you’re with Y/N. And Y/N is going to be at this prom,” Garcia says, her pink glasses sliding down her nose. She winks at Reid, almost like she enjoys watching him squirm.

“How do you know that she’s going? Did she say she’s going?” Spencer asks, unable to conceal his eagerness that Y/N could be attending. Spencer might hate dancing and those fancy shoes that are too tight on his toes, but all that can be talked away if Y/N is there.

“Yes, she’s going because you’re asking her. That and I’m making everyone go,” Penelope says matter of factly.

Spencer opens his mouth, attempting to talk away Penelope’s suggestion. But Spencer Reid is a smart man and he knows better than trying to argue his way out with Penelope. Especially when it comes to Y/N. He might have an excellent poker face, but Spencer can’t hide his love for Y/N.

“I’m not going to ask her. You know she’ll think it’s because-” Spencer says, prepping for a long winded rant before the door of Penelope’s office swings open.

Y/N, with two coffees in hand, floats into the room like she’s walking on air. Or maybe it’s Spencer’s mind that’s floating when Y/N walks in. He can never tell. Whenever he’s near her, it’s like everything is sweeter, lighter and airier. Wordlessly, she passes the coffee to Spencer. Feeling her fingertips graze his reminds him of how pathetic he must be. He nods, telling her thanks, knowing that he’s unable to fully articulate just how grateful he is for the littlest things.

“Who are you not going to ask and to where, Spence?” Y/N says, leaning against the filing cabinets and sipping her coffee. Penelope, never one to be quiet, silently watches as Spencer and Y/N converse. Spencer looks up at her, feeling that light and airy feeling again. He brushes his hair that falls against his forehead nervously thinking of an answer.

“I- uh, I was thinking of asking my mother to come stay with me for a couple of weeks. You know, she hasn’t seen DC in a couple of years. And I do have some personal days banked,” Spencer says, telling Y/N a small white lie.

“She’s in Vegas, right?” Y/N asks, interested in what Spencer is saying, which is something that he’s still not used to. Spencer nods, smiling awkwardly.

“Yeah, she says that she likes the heat,” Spencer says, hating how formal and cold the conversation sounds. It’s normally flowing with easy and familiarity, but something is wedged between them. Penelope, long forgotten by the pair, types rapidly on her keyboard.

“You know, Spence. If you’re up for it maybe we can have lunch or meet at Elmwood Park. I’d love to meet the woman that made my favorite person,” she says, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes. Her stare is so intense that it’s like she’s looking into his soul. He thinks that if she looks deep enough she’ll see her own reflection because his soul belongs to her.

“I-I uh,” Spencer says, immediately thinking that he should actually invite his mother out for a visit, “I think that’s a good idea. She likes the sites and all,” he tells her nervously, trying to ease his beating heart.

He’s her favorite person.

Out of all the people in this city, this world. He’s her favorite person. Spencer, a lover of math, is tempted to figure out the odds of being his favorite person’s favorite person. He knows it’s slim. He knows it’s rare. It’s something magical and Spencer is terrified he’s going to ruin it. He’s terrified he’s going to fuck something up that’s not even his.

“It’s a date,” Y/N says, turning to Penelope, who’s still long forgotten, “Oh, Penny, you need to yell at Morgan for me. He ate my leftovers,” she tells Penelope, who feigns horror, “And now I don’t have lunch”

“How dare he!” Penelope says, her exaggerated response inciting chuckles, “he can get away with murder because he’s pretty,” she says, shaking her head.

He knows that she’s pretending to be disappointed, but he still doesn’t like to see it. Spencer unwraps the other half of his turkey and cheese sandwich and hands it to Y/N. She looks surprised, as if Spencer just handed her a million bucks.

“Spence, you don’t have to,” Y/N says, softly, handing back the half of the sandwich, “It’s your sandwich, I don’t want you to feel-”

“Eat it, Y/N,” Spencer says firmly, looking straight at Y/N, “You need to eat something. We both live off coffee as it is,” he says, hoping that Y/N will take the sandwich.

He’s looking straight at her and she’s looking straight at him. Spencer wonders if he looks deep enough he’ll reach her soul. He dares to think that if he can find her soul, he’ll stare at his face. He’s her favorite person after all, that’s got to count for something.

“Thanks, Spence,” Y/N says, smiling softly, “You make the best sandwiches,” she tells him, taking a bite of the sandwich as Garcia’s eyes flit from Spencer to Y/N. Back and forth, she watches the pair engage in the world’s best miscommunication.

“Y/N, did you hear? I’m throwing a prom!” Garcia says excitedly, hoping that Y/N’s reaction will be more enthusiastic than Spencer’s.

“A prom?” Y/N asks, unconvincingly, “God, I hated my prom. I got punched spilled all over my dress and my date tried to sneak alcohol into the banquet hall. It was a shitshow,” Y/N says, remembering the less than happy memories from high school.

“I didn’t go to prom. You know, between being a 12 year old and a dork,” Spencer says, self deprecatingly, “It’s not the ideal scenario, but I am familiar with the cultural significance of proms in American high school,” Spencer says, speaking to no one in particular, yet looking at Y/N directly.

“Maybe we’ll both get the prom night we deserve, Spence,” Y/N offers, tossing out her wax paper wrapper. She walks past him and it’s like the air is sweeter. He believes in science, but loves magic. Y/N is magic.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, refusing to make eye contact with Penelope, “you know, sorry to uh, cut this short. I have some paperwork to finish. Hotch’s been on me all day about it. So, uh, see you later,” he says, walking out of Penelope's office like a bat out of hell.

He tries to ignore the knowing stares from Penelope and Y/N’s confusion as he ducks out and walks into the bullpen. Spencer doesn’t have paperwork. He finished all his paperwork by 11:12 am. But what Spencer does have is a flight from Vegas to Quantico to book.

And prom shopping.

___

As it turns out, Spencer doesn’t know much about teenage American culture. Sure he’s seen 90s movies that Y/N forced him to watch. But it was quite difficult to pay attention when all he could feel was Y/N’s fingers brushing up against his in their shared bucket of popcorn or her head laying against his shoulder when she got tired.

He doesn’t know much of anything when it comes to romance. But he knows that he loves Y/N— and hopefully that’s enough. He still hasn’t asked her if she’d go with him. Honestly, he’s not too sure why he even has to ask her in the first place. She’s going to be there already, but Garcia and Morgan convinced him that it’s part of the so-called “Prom Experience”

“Spence,” Y/N says, she’s perched on the tall bar stool and rests her elbows on her kitchen island, “did you find a suit yet? I was thinking that we can go to that vintage store on Rock Ave. They have a surprisingly good size selection, and I think that this whole vintage thing fits your aesthetic really well,”

“My aesthetic?” Spencer questions, again lost at sea.

“You know, you’re like nerdy chic. Equal parts dorky and equal parts handsome,” she tells him. He feels his cheeks burn at her words.

Handsome

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” Spencer says, eyeing Y/N over the rim of his hot coffee.

“It is,” Y/N says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like him being handsome is just as obvious as him being dorky, “And get your wallet. We’re going to the vintage store,”

Spencer has a hate-love relationship with weekends. He loves spending time with Y/N where it was so easy to pretend that she loves him as he loves her. He hates the weekends for the same reason he loves them. Spencer knows that it’s all fake. It’s a façade of the truth.

“Spence! You’d look great in this,” Y/N suggests, holding up a gray sports coat, “I think it will match your eyes perfectly,”

“If you think so, Y/N,” Spencer says, nodding his head in agreement. She continues eyeing him as if she’s imagining what he’d look like in the jacket. He has to admit, it’s a very nice jacket.

“Come on, Spence. There’s a mirror over in the corner. Try it on for me,” she requests and not even a second later Spencer finds himself being dragged by the hand to try on the suit jacket.

Y/N holds the jacket open for him as he slips it on through his arms. He’s surprised to realize that it fits perfectly. He looks into the mirror, staring at his face and Y/N, who tugs and smooths the jacket. Spencer can’t look too much longer because if he does the lines between reality and fantasy will be difficult to distinguish. As much as he wants to stare into the mirror all day long, pretending that this is real, he much rather it actually be real. But wishing and dreaming only ends up with battle wounds and broken hearts.

“You look very handsome, Spencer. Very handsome,” Y/N says, staring into the mirror too now. But she’s not looking at the jacket, she’s looking at him. The beat of silence lasts longer than what’s comfortable, “Um, I think, I saw some pants that would look good on you, with this jacket, I mean,” she says, stumbling over her words. She’s not looking in the mirror any more, her gaze is noticeably away from Spencer and the mirror.

“Okay, uh, whatever you think, Y/N,” Spencer says, “I’m not even sure why I agreed to this thing. I don’t dance,” he says, regretting his choice to go to Penelope’s prom, but feeling guilty for maybe disappointing Y/N all in one breath.

“Did you ask her yet?” Y/N asks, holding up a pair of similarly gray colored pants. She must notice his confusion, “You know Austin, the woman you heroically saved. Does any of it ring a bell, Spence?” Y/N teases. Spencer feels his cheeks burn and his heart tighten, that happens a lot around Y/N.

“Oh Austin, uh no. She wasn’t interested in me, after all,” Spencer says, shifting his weight and staring at his converse, “I mean, I should have seen it coming. It’s transference, that’s like Psych 101,” he says, feeling strange. It was odd when Austin broke up with him, even if you can consider it breaking up. He felt a strange sense of relief when it happened, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Y/N clicks her tongue in annoyance as she walks over to Spencer. Tugging slightly on the sleeves of the jacket she says, “well she’s not as smart as I thought she was. You have to be a complete fool to let someone like you go,” she says quietly. She’s standing too close, looking too beautiful, and seeming too perfect for Spencer to not be completely enamoured.

Then it breaks, like shattered glass. The rosey glasses are lifted, leaving only cheeks that sting with nervousness and hearts the yearn for something a little more tangible.

“Stop staring at me and go try it on,” Y/N says, handing him the pair of pants, “Oh and I’m going to look for a vest and a tie to match. This store is unbelievable,” she tells him, pushing him into the makeshift dressing room.

Spencer puts on the pants, which fit, despite being maybe an inch or two loose in the waist. He looks into the tall mirror, which is noticeably empty without Y/N standing with him. A floating hand, belonging to Y/N appears. She holds a burgundy tie and a dark brown vest, both of which are very Spencer. He smiles slightly, strangely happy that Y/N has picked something out that’s perfect for him.

“Tell me when you’re decent,” she says, her voice muffled by the curtain that separates them. He sticks his head out of the curtain, his eyes immediately finding Y/N’s.

“Ohh, Spence, you look amazing. Very handsome,” she says, her hands clasped around the tie, tugging just like she did with his suit jacket before, “What do you think?” she asks, looking at him curiously.

“It’s nice,” Spencer offers, approaching this like he does everything: cautiously, “I do like the texture,” he says, running his hands up and down the sleeves of the jacket.

“You look more than nice, Spence. I know I’ve said it like 30 times, but you look very handsome,” she says. Spencer hopes that she means it. He needs something to be real. Sometimes besides what he feels, because what he feels is the realest thing in the world.

“It’s nice to hear,” Spencer says, “you know from someone who’s not my mother,” he jokes, shrugging off the jacket and grabbing the hanger from Y/N.

“You deserve to hear it,” Y/N says so softly Spencer wonders if she’s saying it all. That beat of silence, followed by the awkwardness is back.

“So, uh, I saw a dress that I’m going to try on,” Y/N tells him, her gaze shifting everywhere but Spencer’s eyes.

“I’ll go pay for this,” Spencer says, walking back into the dressing room and the mirror that lies to his face.

___

Back in Y/N’s car, Spencer shifts in the passenger seat trying to find a way to sit comfortably while holding his suit jacket, pants and vest. Y/N hangs up her dress, that’s wrapped in a gown bag. She wouldn’t let Spencer see the dress, despite her practically picking out his entire outfit.

“So what’s next,” Spencer asks, as Y/N gets into the car. She smiles over at him sheepishly, leading Spencer to think she’s got another trick up her sleeve.

“I’ve got a confession, Spence. And please don’t hate me for it,” Y/N says, her voice coming out a little nervous as she eyes Spencer.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, even if I tried. And I’m certain I’ll never have to,” he says softly, resting his hand over hers on the console. He rubs the back of her hand gently, thinking about just how easy things are with her. If he could only be a little braver, maybe then the mirror wouldn’t be so empty.

“Okay. I knew that things didn’t work out with you and Austin. I overheard you telling Derek,” Y/N confesses, “And I know that it makes me a horrible friend or whatever, but I’m sorry that I eavesdropped,”

“Oh, uh how much did you hear?” Spencer asks, suddenly quite nervous. He can feel his heart drop, waiting for the moment when Y/N laughs at the thought of her loving him. He knows that it’s not fair to her, but then again all is fair is love and war.

“Enough to know that you’re still hung up or or someone else. I left once my conscience got the better of me. Once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout,” she says, making the three finger salute that’s common in scouting, “I just wanted to hear it from you, you know you’re my favorite person and all,” she says, a frown forming.

“I think, uh,” Spencer says, “That I was just a little embarrassed. You know how Derek and Penelope and Emily and JJ can get. It’s basically just you and Hotch who aren’t jumping down my throat about being, you know, alone,” he says, chuckling awkwardly.

“They just want to help you, Spence. In their own ways, but I’m always on Team Spencer. You never got to worry about that,” Y/N offers, squeezing his hand.

He considers what she says, not responding verbally, but nodding his head. He hasn’t ever had someone on his “team”, so it’s strange. But a good kind of strange.

“Spence, you okay? I wanted to give you something. To be truthful, I’ve been thinking about how I was going to do this for awhile,”

“Ask me what?” he questions, wondering what she has in store. He watches as Y/N rummages in his bag, clearly looking for something. He’s thoroughly confused when she pulls out a TI-84.

“What on earth?” Spencer says, as she places the calculator in his hands. Her sly grin, beaming up at him only further proves his point: his heart just beats faster around her.

“Just shut and press the on button. You’d think that a genius would know how to work a calculator,” she comments, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You know, I never used these. I can just do it in my head faster,” Spencer says, winking at Y/N when she pushes him teasingly.

“God, Spencer just turn it on!” she demands, very apparently getting more and more impatient.

He turns the calculator on and is brought to a green screen that has a picture of a graph. Spencer raises his eyebrow, as if to ask Y/N for the next direction.

“Press the graph button,” she says, getting quieter as Spencer looks at her.

He presses the button that she said to, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen. Spencer watches as the screen draws four black lines running parallel to each other. A curved line is drawn on the first two black lines, forming the letters “P” and “R”. The screen continues to draw, making an oval that looks like an “O” and the last two parallel lines are joined together with a “v” shape, forming the letter “M”. He takes a second glance, reading the 4 letter word slowly.

P-R-O-M

“Well?” she asks, waiting for his answer.

He’s speechless. Spencer blinks. It’s like his brain has stopped working. It’s a prom, a stupid prom that’s 10 years too late. But it’s the girl of dreams that’s asking him. And that’s the stuff those rom-coms he couldn’t pay attention to are made of.

“I mean, of course. Of course, Y/N,” Spencer says, dropping the calculator into the cup holder and leaning in to hug Y/N.

His heart stops again. Falling into that tricky habit of either speeding up or stopping when she’s around. He thinks he’s ready to implode when she pecks his cheek. Her lips don’t linger, hardly touching his skin for it to be considered a kiss.

“I don’t think I’d want to go with anyone else,” she says, mumbling into his skin. She seals his fate with her lips against his skin. Never again will Spencer imagine what it’s like to have her lips against his skin. Even though it’s a fraction of the time he’d want, it’s tattooed in his mind.

“I’m not much of a dancer, by the way,” Spencer says, reluctantly letting go and sitting back into the passenger’s seat, “so don’t expect too much,” he jokes.

“Oh you better watch it, Doctor Reid. I’m getting you on the dance floor, even if you hate it,” Y/N says, smiling as she backs out of the parking spot and turns into the street.

Spencer looks out the window, thinking to himself that there’s probably nothing he can hate if he’s doing it with Y/N.

Spencer didn’t go to prom in high school. He didn’t do a lot of the traditional things that most former high schoolers reminisce about at his age. He didn’t go to football games or have a best friend to make lifelong memories with.

He didn’t have any of that, until now.

But it’s prom night, 10 years late. His hands are sweaty and his mouth feels dry. Spencer wasn’t this nervous for even his first day at the BAU all those years ago. He tries to fix the burgundy tie that Y/N picked out at the vintage store. It looks crooked and twisted. Nothing like when Y/N tied perfectly in the store for him. He supposes that he can wait till she comes to pick him up.

The mirror, again, is noticeably empty without Y/N standing beside him. He can get lost in there, thinking about her standing with him. He does, because it feels like seconds later when he hears a rapid knocking on his apartment door.

Standing on the other side of the door is Y/N. She wears a sage green dress that looks like it’s made of softest silk. He smiles at her, not sure if he can trust his words. Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much thinking when all he can focus on is the tiny straps that rest on her shoulders or how the sage green compliments her skin tone.

“You look, god. You’re beautiful,” Spencer says, partly under his breath partly aloud to Y/N, “so beautiful,” he says again, focusing on her eyes.

“And you’re looking very dashing in that suit, Spence,” she says, pushing her way in, “do you need help with your tie?” she asks, looking at the tie he holds in his hand.

“Yes, please,” he says sheepishly. He holds out the burgundy colored tie, but takes his hand back as an idea crosses his mind, “oh wait here, I’ll be right back,” Spencer says, walking quickly to his bedroom.

“Alright,” Y/N says sceptically, “Don’t ditch me, Reid!” she calls out from the living room.

Spencer returns, hiding the new tie behind his back. He places an olive green tie with dusty blue and pink flowers in her hands. He notices her smile grow, realizing that he’s picking a new tie for a reason.

“I might not know much about prom, but I think that we’re supposed to match. You know, since we’re going together,” he offers, “but I need help putting it on,” he says.

“We’re going to match!” Y/N says excitedly. As she unbuttons the first button on Spencer’s cream colored shirt he holds his breath. He can’t breathe when she’s this close. Her fingers are quick and nimble as they feed the tie around his neck and elegantly create a knot. If Spencer wasn’t already in love, he knows that watching her eyes twinkle and her tongue poke out as she concentrates would make him declare it then and there.

“So handsome,” she says, using that quiet voice that makes it seem like she’s talking to herself rather than him, “I can’t wait to dance with you,” she tells him tugging the tie.

“I’m not going to be good, Y/N. I’m going to be a fool,” Spencer says, lamenting already about what an idiot he’s going to look like in front of Y/N.

“That’s nonsense, Spence,” Y/N says, waving him away with a toss of her hand, “You’re going to be the best dancer there,” she tells him rubbing her hand up and down his arm, like she did at the store.

“Would you believe it, if I told you I never danced with anyone?” Spencer says, being the most honest and true he’s ever been.

“We can change that,” Y/N says, stepping towards Spencer and linking her hand in his. She squeezes, restarting and stopping his heart all in one go, “oh wait we need music,” she says, feeling around for where her phone usually is.

“I got it,” Spencer says, stepping away from Y/N. He walks over to the small record player in the corner of his living room. He doesn’t play it too often, the records he has were once his mother’s and they’re too painful to play most days. But Spencer’s sure that he can make every exception to all his rules for Y/N. Maybe he’ll get some happy memories out of it.

“Going old school I see,” Y/N says, teasingly as Spencer walks over grabbing both his hands in hers, “everything about you is very charming, Doctor Reid,” she says, softly swaying to the jazzy tunes of Sarah Vaughan.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Spencer says, following Y/N’s lead as she floats around his living room, carrying him everywhere she goes. She rests her head against his chest and Spencer swears that she’s going to get a concussion from how hard his heart beats.

They’re alone, no audience to witness the moment that Spencer wonders if he can dare to call intimate. It’s intimate to him because every moment with Y/N is intimate. Maybe if someone had told Spencer that dancing like this could bring pure paradise all the way from your fingertips to your eyelashes, maybe he would have done it sooner.

“You’re quite the romantic, Spencer,” Y/N says as the song comes to a close. The record player stops, but they don’t stop swaying, “And you told me you couldn’t dance,” she scoffs lightly, with her head still resting against his chest.

“Is that okay with you?” He asks, “me being romantic,”

“I don’t think that I’d want it any other way, Spencer,” Y/N says, removing her head from his chest and her hand from his. She cups his face, touching him lightly. Y/N holds him like he aches to be held. It’s gentle and tender, yet leaves him desiring more.

“Honest?” Spencer asks, daring to be brave.

“Truly,” she responds.

Spencer shifted slightly, so he can also hold her face in his hands. Y/N drops her hands though, wrapping them around Spencer’s waist to pull them closer together. Spencer’s phantom fingers are like that dance around that dance around Y/N’s skin.

It’s Y/N that initiates the kiss. She moves in slowly and tenuously, looking just as nervous as Spencer is. He’s shaky slightly, the anticipation getting to his head when all he can see is Y/N’s eyes looking into his and all he can think about is how soft her skin is. It’s all he’s ever wanted to think about. Her lips are soft and pillowy.

But it’s more than that.

Kissing her is everything to Spencer. It’s the breathy sighs she lets out as he moves his hands and rests them securely behind her neck. It’s the peachy scent of her perfume that’s so sweet and strong it should be overwhelming when all it is, is intoxicating. Kissing her is dizzying and terrifying, but wonderful and sweet. He can’t tell where his lips start and where her’s end, but it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t open his eyes because he knows he’s facing the mirror. But unlike before, he doesn’t need a mirror to know what he’s looking at. He can look into his soul for that.

“Very romantic,” Y/N says, smiling through the quick kisses she plants on his jawline, “I always thought you’d be a romantic,” he tells him.

Spencer brushes his thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip. It’s puffy and bitten from his kisses, but he thinks that it would be a shame to not bite and kiss it some more. He smiles so hard he knows that he’ll wake up in the morning and his mouth will hurt. But that’s the least of his worries if Y/N’s there to kiss it better.

“Honest?” Spencer says, calling back to the song, that’s now their song.

“Truly,”

---

TAGLIST (ADD YOURSELF HERE)

@shemarmooresfedora @willowrose99 @calm-and-doctor @spideygenius @measure-in-pain @nomajdetective @spencerreid9 @saspencereid @laurakirsten0502 @winifrede @muffin-cup @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @strawberryspence @g0lden-cth @spookydrreid

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader happy ending #spencer reid x reader one shot #spencer reid deserved a happy ending #criminal minds fanfiction

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: allusions to sex, heavy making out and touching (i think that should cover it), swears

A/N: now back to your regularly scheduled fluff...

Masterlist

Chapter 17

“Alright, bye. Love you,” you laughed, hanging up the phone.

“Jo, Daddy already found a way to make it up to you for missing the museum,” you smiled.

“What?” she asked excitedly.

“Ah that would ruin the surprise. Wouldn’t it?” you grinned, “But we are leaving now.”

Jo slid her snow boots and jacket on as you sneakily packed her hat, mittens, and snow pants. You also grabbed snow stuff for Spencer because converse and a sweater vest would not keep him warm in 29 degree weather with 7 inches of snow on the ground.

Jo skipped out of the elevator, not even waiting for you to go to Spencer’s desk.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed like usual.

“Hi, Princess!” he lifted her up into his lap, “Are you excited?”

Jo nodded enthusiastically.

“Good because I got permission to go sledding on the HUGE hill right outside,” he smiled.

“But I don’t have a sled,” Jo frowned.

“I bought you one,” he grinned.

After Spencer had finished suiting Jo up in her snow gear, you slid a purple hat with a big white pom-pom on top over his head, a few of his messy curls still poking out.

“Can’t have you getting cold either, my dear,” you gave him a quick peck on the nose as he scrunched his face up in a smile.

“Oh chocolate thunder, get my coat please. We are going outside to watch this cuteness!” Penelope exclaimed.

“Of course, baby girl,” he replied, standing up from his desk.

You all piled into the elevator and headed outside. Jo stared down at the big hill in front of them. It seemed awfully scary to a little girl.

You grabbed her mitten-covered hand.

“How about I go down with you the first time and Daddy pushes us?” you suggested.

Jo nodded as you both climbed into the sled.

“Okay, ready? 1...2...3!” Spencer gently pushed you both down the hill.

Spencer was relieved when he heard the joyful giggles of Jo followed shortly by your laughter.

Jo ran back up the hill with you towing the sled behind her.

“Daddy! You go with me now!” she said.

You both took turns going down the hill with Jo even Auntie Penelope and Uncle Derek had their turns. Jo was even brave enough to go down by herself if Spencer waited at the bottom for her.

Much to everyone’s chagrin, you had to go home when it started to get dark and Jo’s cheeks were bright red from the cold.

You, Spencer, and Jo were driving over an hour out of the city to get a freshly cut Christmas tree from a tree farm.

Spencer packed you all thermoses with hot chocolate and mini marshmallows. His excitement may have actually exceeded Jo’s. He told you he never got to get a real Christmas tree when he was younger because the trees shipped to the middle of the hot Las Vegas desert wilted quickly. And, he had no room for a big tree in his old apartment.

It was cute seeing the both of them all bundled up in their matching purple scarves and big winter coats. Spencer brought the sled so he could pull Jo along since there was about a foot of snow on the ground that would make it very hard for her to walk.

Spencer had taken the exact measurements of the corner of the living room so the tree would fit perfectly.

“What about that one?” you asked, pointing to a tree farther back in the field.

“Let’s go check it out,” Spencer pulled a measuring tape from his pocket.

“Always prepared, Dr. Reid,” you laughed.

“They didn't give me a PhD in engineering for nothing,” he grinned.

“This is about the right size. What do you think, Princess? Is this a good tree for Santa to put presents under?” he asked.

Jo gave an approving nod after inspecting the tree.

“Alright, then it’s settled. Hand me the saw, love,” Spencer said.

“Please be careful,” you reminded him, slowly handing him the saw that the farm employees gave to you.

After multiple breaks and some encouragement from you and Jo, Spencer was finally able to saw through the tree’s stump completely.

He dragged it to the car as you pulled Jo in the sled. You both tied it to the top of the car using bungee cords.

Once you were home, you set the tree in its stand and gave it plenty of water. Spencer got the box of ornaments down from the attic.

You put Christmas music on and the three of you spent the rest of the day decorating the tree, baking cookies, and watching Home Alone.

Spencer had insisted on putting on a Santa suit in case Jo came down when you were putting the presents out.

Knowing this information, you decided to tease him by purchasing a tight elf dress that stopped right under your butt.

You smirked, looking at yourself one more time in the mirror before heading downstairs where Spencer was waiting.

Spencer ceased his movements as he saw you slowly descend down the stairs. He was practically drooling.

“What’s wrong? Have I been a naughty girl?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Yes, baby, you have,” he whispered in your ear, roughly planting kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

Spencer cupped your ass with his hands.

You tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck and he let out a moan that vibrated against your skin.

“Shhhh, we can’t wake Jo up,” you reminded him.

He started to guide you over to the couch but you put your hand on his chest to stop him.

“We’ve got to put the presents under the tree first, babe.”

You broke from his grasp and Spencer let out a soft whine.

Deciding you weren’t done having your fun just yet, you picked up a present from the box where you had hidden them and slowly bent over to place it under the tree.

You felt a light smack against your ass that made you stand up quickly because you certainly hadn’t been expecting that.

You turned around to see Spencer with the biggest grin on his face and a devilish glint in his eyes.

“Don’t tease me, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, “Cause I have no problem with doing that again and again and again.”

Jo woke you both up by jumping on the bed.

“Santa came! Santa came! Santa came!”

“He sure did, baby,” you giggled, looking at Spencer.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go open some presents!” Spencer got out from underneath the covers, dressed in his flannel PJs.

Jo ran down the stairs with you and Spencer right behind.

“No opening any gifts until Mommy gets her camera!” you shouted out from the kitchen as Jo took her seat on the floor right in front of the tree.

You grabbed your camera, the box of donuts you got yesterday, and coffee for you and Spencer.

“Thanks, love,” Spencer gave you a quick kiss, accepting the mug and picking up a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles as you joined him on the couch.

Jo opened up all of her presents from you and Spencer that consisted of a model plane that she could build herself with instructions, a set of washable watercolor paints, and of course more dinosaur memorabilia.

“Daddy’s turn!” you jumped up from the couch and grabbed a manila folder that had a huge bow on it under the tree.

Spencer looked at you curiously, opening the envelope and revealing a packet of forms that were half filled out.

“It’s the forms needed to update Jo’s birth certificate. Once you fill out your section, I can take it to city hall and your name will officially be added as the father on Jo’s birth certificate,” you smiled.

Spencer nodded softly, staring down at the document in awe.

“I love you so much,” he finally said, pulling you in for a hug.

“And I love you so much too,” he grabbed Jo to join the hug.

“We love you too,” you replied.

Spencer wiped the happy tears from his eyes.

“Okay,” he chuckled, “First, I have a gift for Jo and Mommy and then Mommy gets her gift.”

Spencer pulled out a bag from the back of the tree and handed it to Jo who was sitting in your lap.

Two sets of headbands with a pair of black round circles and a red bow were inside the bag. You both looked at Spencer for further explanation.

“We are going to Disneyworld,” he smiled.

Jo screamed in excitement, running over to hug Spencer’s legs. You laughed, putting the Minnie ears on you and Jo’s heads.

“Spence, that is so generous and thoughtful of you but how much did that cost,” you asked.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, my dear. I had to make up for all the past Christmases and birthdays,” he kissed you before picking up the last item under the tree and handing it to you.

You opened the box to see two identical silver bands inside, one slightly bigger than the other. You looked up at Spencer skeptically.

“Not the ring yet. Just a ring…for each of us,” he picked up the smaller ring and slipped it onto your index finger, kissing your hand.

“I love it and I love you,” you smiled, looking at your hand and then taking the other ring and slipping it onto his index finger.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid #cm fanfic #criminal minds

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gubler-me-up · 4 years

Text

Give Me Hallmark

Request: hii can you like do a spencer reid one shot with a fem bau reader and it's christmas, everyone's still working and at the end of the day the reader asks if anyone wants to grab dinner for christmas but almost everyone has plans except for reid so they go out and eat then they walk around with all christmas lights and there's couples everywhere and spencer just confesses his love for her under a mistletoe.

A/N: Thank you for the request, @euphoricdumpsterfire! We love a cute Christmas fic and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to post this exactly on Christmas but December 26th works too imo! Hope everyone who celebrated had a Merry Christmas and for those who don’t celebrate I hope you had a fantastic, relaxation day ❤️ Hope you enjoy!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader

Category: Fluff

Content warning: A small mention of alcohol but nothing else

Word count: 3.5k

————-

Nothing was worse than working during Christmas. For most people that is but you didn’t mind. Your family had decided to go on a cruise for the holiday. They asked you to join but the day you were going to tell them your decision the team had a case in Wyoming. You insisted they go without you and you would visit them as soon they came back.

Christmas’s charm had faded away in your eyes as soon as you reached adulthood. Spending it alone had nearly become a habit of yours. Last year you spent it with a couple of friends and did a cute secret Santa exchange. The Christmas’ before that consisted of just you, a bottle of wine and reruns of your favourite hallmark movies.

As you worked diligently at your desk you couldn’t help notice walk down the steps towards where the four of you were working. You looked up and saw a sight that proved to you Christmas miracles were real. Hotch was smiling and whenever he smiled you knew there was extremely good news to proceed.

“Merry Christmas everyone. You’re off the clock,” he said.

“Off the clock? Hotch, we’ve only been working for five hours,” Spencer said.

“Reid, are you serious right now? A late start and an early finish? Sounds like a deal I’m going to take,” Morgan said as he started to pack up his stuff.

“Have a good rest of your day everyone,” Hotch said before retreating to his office.

You started packing up your stuff as well. You could already hear the opening scene of A Royal Christmas playing in your head. Before you could make your way home, cuddle up on your couch and lose your heart to movies you’ve watched for the past five years, you had to eat.

You looked around at everyone packing up their things to leave as soon as they possibly could. You wanted to eat at your fave Chinese spot instead of ordering takeout this year. You didn’t mind sitting in and dining on your own but you could already anticipate the looks of people dining in and seeing you eating alone. The last time that happened a man in his 70s insisted on joining you to eat and told you how much you reminded him of his wife who had passed away five years earlier.

“Does anyone wanna grab something to eat?” You asked.

“I would love to, Y/N, but I have a ticket to the Bahamas that’s calling my name. I’ll send plenty of pictures,” Emily said as she picked up her purse.

“Make sure you keep them PG-rated,” Morgan joked.

Emily playfully rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t give you a PG-13 picture even if you paid me.”

“Ouch,” he said.

Emily laughed as she told everyone goodbye. As soon as she walked out of the bullpen you knew there was no chance of getting her back. You turned your attention over to Morgan. He saw your gaze and immediately stood up to get out of your sight. You didn’t let him get too far though.

“How about you, Derek? You want to grab some Chinese?” You asked.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. If it was a regular, shmegular day I wouldn’t even think twice about it but since it’s Christmas I have plans I must attend,” he said.

“Oh? And those plans would be?” You inquired.

He shook his head and wiggled his finger at you. “We’re keeping it PG-rated remember? Have a Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Before you could stop him for another question, he wished everyone a Merry Christmas and bolted out the bullpen. Now there was only you, JJ and Spencer. You saw JJ get up to leave next. She saw you looking at her and gave you a sympathetic smile but you knew her answer already.

“Kids?” You asked.

She nodded. “And husband. Sorry, we’ll go another time for sure.”

You smiled. “Of course. Merry Christmas, J.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

With that she was out of the bullpen. You sighed as you looked over at Spencer. He stood up from his desk and swung his satchel on his shoulder. You were nervous to even ask anyone else let alone him if he was free to go out to eat with you. You knew he would probably be busy with his mother. He had been so stressed out lately about her health you didn’t want to bother him with your loneliness.

You then saw Garcia scurrying out of her office down into the bullpen area. You smiled as you saw her walking your way. You stepped in front of her with a huge smile. You were disappointed to not see the same enthusiasm on her face. Your smile instantly dropped.

“Too busy to get something to eat with me?” You asked.

“Unfortunately I am, my little sugar plum, but I will definitely go with you after the holiday,” she said before embracing you in a big hug.

You sighed and hugged her back. “Merry Christmas, P.”

“Merry Christmas, sweet stuff,” she said before scurrying past you.

You turned around to watch her leave like the rest. You sighed as you were starting to realize you probably were the only one without plans this Christmas. It made you quite sad to think about but you did it to yourself every year. What was one more year of sitting alone at a restaurant and having an old man tell you about his dead wife?

“I can go with you if you’d like, Y/N,” you heard Spencer say.

You looked back around to see him standing just a foot away from you. You were in shock he wasn’t busy as you thought he was going to be. You were even more shocked that he wanted to spend a few hours on Christmas day with you.

“You sure? I thought you’d go to Vegas to spend some time with your mom because of her health,” you said.

“I’m flying out tomorrow morning and I’m already packed, so I have time,” he said.

You stood there still in shock. You didn’t think you would be spending your evening with Spencer especially since it was only the two of you. Your look of shock must have made him weary because he furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind then I’ll just go home,” he said.

You shook your head. “No, no, sorry. We can definitely go together. I’d love to spend my evening having you as my dinner companion.”

He sheepishly smiled. “Great. Should we ask Hotch and Rossi if they want to tag along?”

You chuckled. “Spence, when you reach their age all you want to do with your Christmas is cuddle up with a glass of scotch or whisky.”

He nodded in agreement. “Fair.”

You smiled as you picked up your purse off of your desk. Like the gentleman he was, he offered out his arm for you to hook onto. You didn’t hesitate to grab hold of his bicep and you swore he was flexing for you but that could have been your imagination.

Your favourite Chinese restaurant wasn’t too far from the BAU headquarters. It was only a few blocks down but it took a little longer for you two to get there than it would have been if you were walking by yourself. You enjoyed talking to Spencer and would get lost in every word he would say. From the time you two had left the office, he was talking about some recent discovery in the galaxy and the amount of passion in his voice was admirable.

He was naturally a slower walker compared to your need to fast walk but him talking to you allowed you to bear the brisk winter air for a little longer. The cold didn’t seem to bother him much because he kept looking your way when he was talking to you even though the wind was blowing that way. The way he was smiling at you throughout could have been the reason he was warm because his smile could warm the coldest of nights.

He held the door open to let you in. You blushed and thanked him as you stepped in. Everything he did felt so intimate to you. It felt as if you were at the beginning of your own little Hallmark movie but it could have been your overly active imagination at work again. Maybe it was time for you to retire the Hallmark movies if they were making you think this way.

“For two?” The host asked.

You nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Follow me this way,” she said as she led the way.

She led you both to a booth near the back corner of the restaurant. You both thanked her as she put down your menus. You took off your purse and jacket and tossed them on your seat before scooting in. Spencer followed suit.

As you looked at the menu you couldn’t help but notice Spencer smiling as he looked down at his. You looked up at him with a puzzled look. He looked up from his menu to see your full confused look.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Why are you smiling to yourself?” You asked.

“Uh, well, I just find it kind of funny,” he said.

“Find what kind of funny?” You asked.

“Out of all the things you could have done on Christmas you wanted to eat at a Chinese restaurant,” he said with a soft chuckle.

“Well, if I’m keeping it honest I’ve been craving Chinese for a while and this is one of my favourite spots. I found out a few days ago they have a deal where if you and someone else come in on Christmas Day, you get 50 percent off your meal,” you said.

“Ah, is that why you were asking everyone to tag along?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s probably the lamest way to spend Christmas but I love a good meal and a good price point.”

“I don’t think it’s a lame way to spend Christmas at all. I do this with my mom on most years but instead of Chinese we go eat at Binion’s and indulge in chicken fried lobster.”

You giggled. “I love that. My family went on a cruise I had to miss out on but I’ll see them in a week.”

“Well, if you’re eating on a budget on Christmas Day then you definitely saved yourself some major cash from missing that cruise if that makes you feel better. On average, during a seven-to-eight day cruise passengers spend $212 daily.”

“The way my dad eats he’s probably spending near $300.”

Spencer cracked a wider smile which automatically made you laugh. He broke into a small chuckle once you started it off. You saw the server walking up and automatically calmed down before picking up the menu again. Spencer turned to see the server approach your table. She placed two glasses of water down before taking out her pen and notepad.

“Welcome and Merry Christmas. I would like to start off by mentioning on Christmas we do a special where if two people come in their meal is half off,” she said.

“Oh, I’ve heard,” Spencer said as he looked at you.

You slightly blushed. You didn’t know if it was from the way he looked at you or if it was because you were way too excited about this deal.

“Amazing. Do you two know what you’d like?” She asked.

“Can we get a few more minutes please?” You asked.

“Of course. Would you like any other drink besides water?” She asked.

“No thank you,” you both said in unison.

Your server smiled and nodded before leaving the two of you to look over your menus. It seemed as if he couldn’t keep his eyes on his menu long enough to look over it. His eyes kept wandering up to look at you. Naturally, your eyes wanted to look into his.

“What now?” You giggled.

“How do you feel about looking at Christmas lights?” He asked.

“I love looking at Christmas lights,” you said.

“Awesome. There’s this street in downtown Washington full of them. I think they looked extremely pretty and I thought you’d like them,” he said.

“You thought I’d like them?” You said.

He nodded. “Yeah. I know how much you love Christmas lights, so when I walked by them last night I thought of you.”

“You did?” You asked.

“Yeah. Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I didn’t-”

“No, no, I’m not uncomfortable at all. I’d really love to go with you, Spence,” you assured him.

He smiled and you could see the small fade-in of blush appear on his cheeks. If this was the universe’s way of telling you your Hallmark dreams had come true, it was the best possible way to let you know. You could have never imagined your Christmas would be spent with someone you had a crush on and you loved every second of it. You wanted it to become a Christmas tradition every year.

Once you two were done eating, Spencer paid even after you insisted you would. Before you could even take out your card, he had already paid in cash. You hated how he was always one step ahead of the game but it’s one of many things you adored about him.

It had become pitch dark outside as you two waited outside for a taxi to pass by. When you saw the first one come down the street you waved your arms like a maniac. You being the clumsy person you were nearly lost your balance and fell into the road. Spencer quickly grabbed onto your arm to keep you balanced.

As you two rode in the back of the taxi, you were already admiring the Christmas lights on houses and buildings. Spencer would point out ones on his side and you would look out in amazement. He chuckled every time your face would show any form of excitement or wonder. The drive alone was 45 minutes long but it felt like 10 as Spencer preoccupied your time.

When you reached downtown Washington, Spencer opened your door to let you out. He held out his hand to help you get out. He probably didn’t trust your legs holding you up after your little incident. You closed the door behind you and you two started your journey through the city.

“I think blue Christmas lights are my favourite,” you said.

“How come?” He asked.

“They’re the prettiest colour. It’s bright enough to catch your attention but not too overpowering to hurt your eyes,” you said.

“That’s a good reason to like it,” he said.

You giggled. “No fact to go along with my analysis, doctor?”

He chuckled. “I was trying to hold back but blue is a rare colour in nature but the most preferred colour by choice. Throughout history, it has been a top colour associated with relaxation and lowering blood pressure.”

“Amazing. I was struggling with my blood pressure, you know,” you joked.

He looked at you concerned. “What? Y/N, are you okay? If work is stressing you out, I don’t mind taking some of your workload.”

You laughed. “I’m kidding, Spence, but I might take you up on that offer if I ever do feel stressed out at work. What’s your favourite Christmas light colour?”

He pointed to the Christmas lights to his left. You looked and saw green lights hanging off of a storefront. You widened your eyes at how beautiful they looked. Spencer looked at you and smiled at your expression.

“They’re pretty, huh?” He asked.

“Pretty? They’re gorgeous. I didn’t even realize how beautiful the green lights were until they stood alone,” you said.

“Green’s actually the second most popular colour after blue,” he said.

You smiled. “Seems fitting.”

“Oh and in China green jade symbolizes virtue and beauty,” he said.

“Also very fitting,” you said.

You bit your bottom lip as you realized what you had said. You looked to your right to avoid eye contact with him. You couldn’t bear him asking about what you meant. You pointed to your side at another business that had strung green lights all over their store.

“You were right about green being a second favourite next to blue,” you said.

“George Washington’s favourite colour was green,” he said.

“Maybe there’s an ode to George going on in these streets,” you said.

He chuckled. “Possibly even though he was born in February.”

You laughed at his joke even though he didn’t know it was one. As you two continued walking you couldn’t help but notice all the couples populating the streets. Young couples, old couples, couples with kids. You looked over at Spencer to see his gaze looking from couple to couple as well.

You stared up at him wondering if he too wished they were those couples. Not that you wished you were any couple specifically but just a couple in general. You thought you two would look cute together especially on Christmas.

You soon noticed couples walking past you two smiling. You politely smiled back and so did Spencer. You weren’t sure if they were doing it to be polite or doing it because they thought you two were also a couple. Maybe they also saw the potential you two had together.

You sighed and decided it was best to turn your attention back to the lights. Again you saw green Christmas lights brighten a toy store’s front display. You don’t think you’ve ever seen so many green lights in your life. You started to think he had set this up.

“Spence, everyone has green lights up. I think they surpass blue in popularity now,” you said.

“Where do you see them?” He asked.

“Oh, you poor thing. I forgot you’re not wearing your glasses. They’re kind of small and on the inside showcase,” you said as you dragged him by his hand to the toy store.

As you two walked up to the store you could see his face lighten up when he saw the lights. You smiled at how excited he was to see all these green lights. As you recalled green and purple were his favourite colours so seeing all this green probably made him overly excited.

“Everywhere’s green for you, Spence,” you said.

“You know, many people don’t know this but green is the colour of love since it’s associated with Venus,” he said.

“Someone on this street must love you a lot then if they’re hanging up all these green lights,” you said.

“If you didn’t do it then I don’t want whoever did,” he said.

You looked at him in shock. You gave him a second to correct himself or at least elaborate for you but he didn’t. Once he said what he had to say, he stayed quiet as if he was waiting for you to say the next few words.

“Wait, repeat that and please say it with your chest this time so I know I heard you correctly,” you said in disbelief.

“I like you a lot, Y/N. More than words could ever express. I know you might not feel the same way but I just had to get it off my chest,” he said.

As he said that it felt as if the whole world went silent. You took in every word he said and it still didn’t feel real to you. You looked up at him as he waited anxiously for you to respond. You then looked up to see a stream of mistletoe hanging above you two. You looked back at him.

“You wanna know how I really feel?” You asked.

“Ye-”

Before he could fully respond to you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nearly jumped into him to kiss his soft lips. He grabbed you by your waist to keep you close to him as your tongues exchanged names. You didn’t want to stop but you were curious to see his reaction to what you just did. It was priceless.

He stared at you in a mix of confusion, happiness and love. You uncontrollably giggled at his expression. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone express three different emotions in one go before.

“You know, I did always want to star in my own Hallmark movie,” you joked.

“I’m glad I could give that to you,” he said.

“I think there’s one more thing you could give to me,” you said.

“Anything. What is it?” He asked.

“Another kiss,” you said.

He chuckled. “I’d kiss you forever.”

He leaned in and you didn’t hesitate to latch onto his lips. Even though the cold breeze was shaking you to the core, your happiness kept you going. You couldn’t possibly go back to watching Hallmark movies after getting the real thing. Besides you felt after this moment your next Christmas’ would be spent in Vegas at Binion’s eating chicken fried lobster.

—–

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection, @slutforthegubes, @pinkdiamond1016, @spencerreidsthings, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @slutforsr @bxtchboy69, @fallinallinmendes @haihappen5 @mgg-theprettiestboy @siltuz-png @ptrs-prkrs @tclaerh @agentadhd @alexmarie29 @closetedreidstan @mac99martin @blxckhearthood @jesspavlik0vsky @katexrichardson @keniaasf @reidbuck @corishirogane3 @thegoddamncrazycatlady @keniaasf @pastelbabygirl19 @shadybagelsludgecolor @bootycrackraisinjuice @vintagebeauty1496 @bluerose512 @laneybobeczko-g @averyhotchner @littlewierdalien @cynbx

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kirencer · 3 years

Text

Le vélo pour deux (Vampire Spencer Request)

Word count: 1.2k

Relationship: Vampire! Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Rating: Fluff, Gen Audiences

Warnings: murder, non-con blood drinking, consensual blood drinking, mentions of a witch hunt, and large age gaps (300 years)

Request?: Yes. Vampire Spencer who has a tandem bike, based off of Le vélo pour deux by the Brobecks. Request for my friend@reidgraygubler, check out their works!! They’re a fan-awesome-tasting writer!!

A/N: Also, I know I spelt the song differently, it kills both me and my beta to have to use wrong french. Enjoy!!

When you live a life span not constrained to human mortality, you collect things. During the first years of my creation, I was a wandering trader of sorts. Townspeople were always so fickle and troublesome, and after my third village I had found that there was a pattern to my visits.

First, the village would be warm and welcoming, though sternly warning me of the fact that there was a monster somewhere hidden in plain sight. It was mildly humorous considering the only monster was me. The one hurting townsfolk, crops, and animals, was more than often a human man - rarely was it a woman, but it had happened a few times. Then, I would get rid of the murderer, or - in more clear terms - I would drink them dry. Effectively ridding the village of its doom and also quenching my thirst through the means of not hurting an innocent person. It was a win-win situation that happened along my many journeys!

Sometimes, the villagers would know that I was the ‘hero’, and would gift me things. Thus gave me my - very true, but also wrong - wandering trader title. Food I had no need for was traded for trinkets, and then things I actually did need.

Along my long travels, year after year, there was something I had never gotten rid of. Still, almost three and a half centuries after my first birth, and 102 years since I acquired it, the tandem bike sits unused.

It was one of the very first models, having been gifted to me in France, after the design traveled down from Denmark, becoming fairly popular in couples of the time period. See, the woman who gifted it to me had lost her husband to the man I had slain, and wanted it to be used again.

“Bring light back into it, Spencer. Take your love and hold them close with this, drive you both far away,” the young woman - barely in her adult years, and already a widow - said. That night, I was chased through the night with pitchforks, fire, and screams of killing a witch.

They were wrong however, I was and still am a vampire, a being far faster and stronger than them. Never a witch. So, bike tied to my back, I fled.

For the next ninety or so years I would take it with him, collecting languages, folk lore, stories, and knowledge.

Then it’s the 1990’s, and the promise I made to his creator comes back into play. I’m to check on his bloodline, see how my creator's family has fared. It took a year to trace it all to her, but eventually I made my way to Las Vegas Sanitorium.

There I found Diana Reid, the woman whose mind was sharp despite her mental illness and being abandoned by her husband. She reminded me of my own mother - strong, caring, and intelligent far beyond what people anticipated - who had died far before my turning.. Thus, I forged as much as I could through my many connections made through the years, and was ‘reborn’ as Spencer Reid, a genius made for changing the world.

Having been fond of my criminal justice, I took to academics. Thinking that, I would catch the eye of the FBI through that instead of through smarts. That way, I didn't have to do any of the physical training.

My strength and speed would have been very suspicious and I was not not ready to be found out and slain after this long.

I joined the Bureau in 2002, and now, it’s nearing my second decade with them.

(vampires are especially equipped for if they decide to stay in one place long. while through my years, i was previously frozen, i decided to let myself physically age. watching an unchanging face suddenly start to change over years, was odd, but i enjoyed it)

What makes this special, is that damn bike.

See, last week I took it to get some very needed adjustments. I modernized it only in reinforcements, keeping its beautiful and ‘antique’ quality. I’ve always held a part of my heart for the charm of such old things.

Today, I would be using it.

A year ago, I met the most beautiful person I had ever seen. They swept me off of my feet, and It was all I could do to fall into their love.

Then they had mentioned their affinity for bike riding, and I realized that I finally had a partner to ride it with.

An amazing partner at that.

A few months after we started dating, I accidentally revealed my nature and they were so accepting, you would have thought I was an angel rather than a monster.

Plus, they had developed a rather fondness for being fed on, saying that they would rather have my love on their neck rather than someone else's.

My favorite place to kiss was the inside of their wrist to feel the thrum of their life through their veins.

They audibly gasped upon seeing the bike, I stiffened hoping that they liked it. That it was a good gasp.

“Spencer…” Y/N said, eyes bright as they ran a hand along the handle bars. “It’s beautiful. Is it yours?”

I hummed a yes, smiling carefully at them. “I've had this stupid bike for centuries and now I finally have someone to ride it with.”

Y/N looked on the verge of tears, “You wanna ride it with me?”

I wondered why they thought I would ride it with anyone else. No one in the world, both present and past, has and ever will be as amazing as they are. Nothing I could ever feel would top the pure love coursing through my veins, as if I had sacrificed a human life for instead having a love so deep that it would have destroyed my weak human form. I ache when I’m away from them, and my existence has never been less dull than when I am in their arms.

“I would be far more than content to spend the rest of time on this bike with you.” I carefully cupped their jaw to make them look up at me, “I love you.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me, dork. I love you too.” They nuzzled against my hand for a moment, before pulling away and turning towards the bike, that, despite being ancient, was not even half of my life span. A hundred and two was nothing compared to three hundred and thirty nine. “What’s her name?”

“Hm?” I asked, too busy staring at how pretty they were in the shaded light of the park.

“The bike, what’s her name?”

My mouth opened in small ‘O’, as I remembered distantly what the bike was named when it was given to me. “Le vélo pour deux, The Bike for Two. Though, I’ve come to call it le vélo des amoureux.”

“Meaning?” They questioned, eyes tracing over every single small detail.

“The lover's bike.”

“Thought of that yourself, old man?” Y/N teased.

“Ha, ha, ha. See, my question is, why you’re dating such an old man? I mean, three hundred and fourteen years is a long time for me to be your senior.”

Y/N rolled their eyes at me, “There's plenty of time for me to catch up, we are going to apparently be riding this bike forever, after all.”

I smiled because that seemed more than fine to me. I had wandered for so long, and now I’ve found the One. All I want to do is follow them now, even if it’s on a bike that is surely going to break from age.

————

[Thank you for reading! Feel free to tell me what you think or submit a request here!]

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #vampire spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #spencer x reader #bau x reader #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid fluff #mgg fluff #criminal minds fluff #song fic #spencer reid request #spencer reid x gn!reader #fluff fic

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x Mindhunter AU

Spencer Reid x Peggy Carr (OC) Part 2: The Case

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: strangers to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn! flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr and Jason Gideon's biological daughter. mentions of rape and murder (typical canon violence)

word count: 2.2K

ao3

He’s not expecting her to roll out a full map after the waitress clears the food from their table. They’ve been in the booth for barely 20 minutes. Having mindless conversations about their day and small get to know each other questions while they ate.

“So, I brought all this to my dad,” she explained, dropping 33 files on the table as well as 2 spiral notebooks and a handful of pens. “He thinks I have a case, but he’s refusing to look at the evidence because he’s still triggered by it, which I get, but he said you’d be the best at helping me because I really just need a geo-profile consult.”

“How is he doing?”

She’s been waiting for him to ask but she still didn’t know how to answer, no matter how much time she had to prep, “uh, he’s good. He talks about you every time I see him, how often do you talk?”

“We haven’t talked since he almost died, 6 years ago now… yes, it was in 2015,” Spencer says it like it’s nothing serious.

“Oh,” she’s confused about it all. Her father talks about him more than anyone else, always remembering a case or a conversation that he just had to tell her about.

Spencer was his buddy in her eyes. “Here I was thinking he liked you more than me like you’re his favourite kid.”

“I’m not his kid,” his eyes widen at the insinuation that they’re somehow siblings in any sense.

It makes her laugh, she knows he’s interested in her a small amount. She was hoping he would, she’s heard so many wonderful things about him and she remembers just how cute he was back in 2005. Now he’s a man and a mighty fine one at that…

“I take it you’re an only child?” He changes the subject, “you can’t handle the idea of your father having relationships with people your age when you hardly know him?”

“How about you tell me who you think I am and I’ll tell you where you went wrong?” She challenges him rather than answering, she knows he’s good but she wants to see it in action.

Spencer raised his brow, “if I get it right, you’re paying for lunch.”

“Deal.”

He opens her notebook and takes a look at her notes, flipping through the pages reading the words just as fast as her father said he could. It was incomprehensible, but he didn’t read far… he keeps going back to her drawings, studying the pressure and how her mind worked.

“Your mom travelled a lot when you were a kid, and you always went with her. I’m thinking you have a few degrees, at least 3…” he pauses to watch her microexpressions, trailing her skin with his eyes as he looks for anything out of the ordinary. “There’s a doctorate in there but you hate being called Dr. Carr because that’s your mother’s name and it reminds you too much of people asking about her instead of how you’re doing.”

It cuts deep, but he hits the nail on the head and she just blinks. The simplest microexpression that shows him he got it right, his smile is awkward and he’s sorry for it.

“You were homeschooled so you don’t trust people very easily. You have issues with your father that you can’t place because you still don’t think you know him well enough to really have an opinion, and you’re jealous of me because you wish you knew how he brags about you when you’re not around, but he doesn’t talk about you because you told him not to.”

“I specifically told him I wanted to be left out of his life to stay safe, so it’s really my fault that he can’t brag about me. But I still wish someone would,” she admits with a soft smile. “And I think it’s not really jealousy. I’m not jealous of how he brags about his time with you. If anything, I really admire you now.”

He blushes a little, “alright, your turn.”

“You’ve never had a girlfriend before have you?” She calls him out right away. “You can’t take a compliment seriously because no one has loved you deep enough yet for you to believe them. I already know about your parents, I know that you’re scared of forgetting and that’s why you won't stop learning. I think you probably have a bucket list, you’re desperate for something exciting to happen and that’s why you like me already.”

He blinks right back, “touché.”

“I’ll still buy your lunch,” she smiled, and he smiled right back. “And I do have 3 degrees.”

“I do too.”

“I know,” she reminded him. “You’ve been working on that 4th one for the last 16 years.”

“I haven’t had the time.”

She shakes her head as she laughs, teasing him as if she’s better than him because she knows he finds her interesting already, “I had my Ph.D. by 17, as well 2 masters by the time I was 21.”

“3 Ph.D.’s by 22,” he bragged right back.

It had suddenly become a staring contest, “when exactly did your dad walk out on you?”

“I was 10.” Spencer answers. “When was the last time your mom said she was proud of you?”

“Oh, we're going that far, I see,” she laughed, hurt just a little that he dug that deep, “what happened to yours recently?”

“Alzheimer’s.”

“I’m really sorry, I knew about the schizophrenia already because of the fisher king case, that one is the one that still has my dad all fucked up,” she can’t help but rant as she apologizes, placing her hands on his in the centre of the table and he interlocks their fingers like they’ve known each other for years.

“Boston?” He asks her, changing the topic back to getting to know each other without letting go of her hands.

She nods, “Vegas?”

“You knew that already,” he catches her.

“Maybe so,” she blushes at the embarrassment of him picking up on her crush.

“How’d he describe me at chess?” There’s a cockiness behind it that she admires, smiling in response she just shakes her head.

“I don’t play chess, but he says that other than Agent Prentiss, you’re the only person who has come close to beating him.”

“Prentiss?” He looks almost offended at the fact he didn’t know that story.

“You were asleep on the jet, it was right after the trip to Azkaban,” she reminds him.

“Azkaban?” He repeats. “You mean Guantanamo?”

She’s only slightly embarrassed by the slip-up, blushing a deep red as she presses her lips together and squeezes his hand. “My mom calls it Azkaban, she hates it. If it wasn’t for the BAU, she would have never joined the bureau or the government in any way, she’s against the criminal justice system too, so…”

“She’s a woman of science and empathy, I’ve never met her, but I’ve read all her work.”

“So have I,” she’s full of butterflies for some reason as she thinks about him knowing everything that she does, she’s suddenly excited at the prospect of future conversations with him like this isn’t a one-time thing.

He’s still holding her hands over the map, both of them leaning in slightly as they kept talking, it felt overly intimate for a discussion of a case— and they haven’t even started yet.

She takes her hands out of his grip and flattens them over the map, “so I found a pattern, I was asked to look into the rape and murder of a friends sister, and now I’ve found 32 matching cases all over America going in alphabetical order by state, 2 a year since 2005.”

“Are you serious?”

She nods softly, “I’m a private investigator. I hated the academy and simply being in the BAU almost killed both of my parents so I’m not really fond of it, but I need help.”

“How did VICAP not pick this up?” Spencer’s still caught up on the fact this has been happening during his entire career and he had no way of helping. It was very clear by the look on his face.

“Because they’re college-age women getting raped in their dorms, 1 in each state, and men don’t care enough to dig a little deeper when it’s just a little girl who was probably asking for it anyway, right?”

He looks furious, but with her… not at her.

Not like most men, that’s actually exactly what any other guy would have said to her. ‘Not most men,’ they only said that if they were offended; when they knew that they were the exact type of man she was referring to.

He started opening case files then, flipping through everything as she watched carefully, “he always does it the exact same way. It’s every March and November between the 6th and 12th, he’s gotten to the O’s, which means the next hit should be in Oklahoma in exactly 2 months' time.”

“Has there been evidence?” Spencer asks, avoiding eye contact as he both listens and absorbs.

“1 footprint and some random fingerprints at the first few, other than that it’s like he was never there,” she sighs. “This is where I need your help; I’m unsure if he’s attacking randomly or if it’s planned ahead of time, so I brought the map to see if you can make any connection.”

“Alright,” he closes the folder and hands them to her so he can get a better look at everything. “I’m going to need the exact address of each one.”

“I have 32 mini maps,” she says, opening her book bag and handing him yet another folder.

“I’ve noticed they’re in every capital, and it’s always on the east side of the city,” she adds as he spreads them out on the table.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and turns on the flash, turning it face down and holding the sheets of paper over it, “If you look at them over each other, there might be a pattern. We should call my friend Penelope, she’ll be able to digitally do this and find something.”

“Okay,” Peggy nods along, “I really need to know within the week because I’m moving to Oklahoma.”

“What?” He looks overly worried.

“He’s interested in college-age brunettes,” she points at herself. “I’m going to rent an apartment with a sliding door in the kill zone, and I’m going to wait it out. I’ll make sure everyone knows I live alone, I won't make friends, I’ll keep the windows open when I go to the store, I’ll make myself a victim.”

“No, we can get the bureau to send in a team, you don’t need to be in harm's way,” he protests, “I won’t help if I know you’re throwing yourself in the middle of all this. I refuse.”

There’s an underlying panic that she doesn’t quite understand. He’s almost shaking as he thinks about her playing the victim, they stare back and forth at each other softly, eyes flickering over the other’s expression as he also reads her.

“Fine,” she agrees, finally. “But if you’re getting the team involved, I want to be able to have some say in the investigation. I don’t want to be kicked out for just being a PI.”

“On one condition,” Spencer smirks. “You have to teach the BTK seminar with me.”

“Deal,” she smiled. “But I have some conditions too.”

“Anything?”

He was going to regret that.

“We can’t sleep together until we catch the guy— don’t look at me like that!” she catches the way his jaw drops and his eyes glisten.

He’s in complete shock, trying to say words and failing miserably as she stares at him knowingly. “I only said that because I need rules for myself too. We can’t care more about each other than the victims. Solve the case with me and then I’ll have a crush on you, okay?”

“Okay,” he finally finds the words to agree. “Was it that obvious?”

“We held hands for 5 minutes, I’ve thought you were cute since you were 23 and that seminar was a; 'my horse is bigger than your horse' flirting match,” she calls it all out, “I’m just as into you as you are into me already, if not more so because I know way too much about you thanks to my dad and uncle Rossi.”

“Dave knew about you too?” He’s more upset than she expected.

She nods, “yeah, so that I’d be taken care of if anything happened to my dad.”

He is a little upset and she can’t figure out why from what she knows already, “why?”

“You��re so interesting, you and I could have been friends for the last 15 years and things could have been so interesting but you were a secret,” he whispers.

“I was right wasn’t I?”

He nods again, “Gideon doesn’t know about Maeve, but I had a girlfriend who died in front of me before I could tell her I loved her and it broke me.”

Everything makes sense now. The stares, the stuttering, the defensiveness at the idea of her being in harm's way after only knowing her for a few hours. He was desperately looking for someone like himself to prove that he wasn’t going to be alone forever, and he wanted that to be found in her.

“Solve the case with me, then you can learn what it’s like to love someone who loves you back.”

taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #intro to cm #mindhunter #wendy carr #peggy carr

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xwing-baby · 3 years

Text

Pull Over (Frankie Morales x gn!Reader)

Warnings: Fluff!! description of a dead bird, swearing, not edited

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: On a cross country road trip with your boyfriend Frankie, you wake to a beautiful sight...

A/n: I’ve pining for Frankie all week, add this gorgeous prompt photo and this is the result

---

You woke up slowly to the sound of Frankie mumbling along to the radio, as he had been when you fell asleep. Blue sky was all you could see out the window as you slumped in your seat, it wasn’t until you sat up properly that you saw the majesty of your surroundings. You gasped at the sigh of the expansive red dirt, sun dancing on the endless road ahead in mirages. The last time your eyes were open you were driving through concrete suburbs, a far cry from the desolate and beautiful desert you drove in now.

“Holy shit, Frankie!” You exclaimed, choking up in emotion at the sight through the windshield. Frankie startled at your sudden proclamation, “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” Tears streamed down your cheeks, happy tears, shocked and amazed tears. You wiped them quickly from your eyes hoping your fiancé wouldn’t see.

“Are you crying?” Frankie laughed, turning his head for a moment to look at you properly. He didn’t miss the tightness in your voice.

“Shut up,” You sniffed, wiping your eyes, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I didn’t know you’d react like that!” Frankie continued to laugh at you, “And besides you looked cute!”

“That is not an excuse!” You exclaimed, cheeks heating up at his compliment, “Oh Babe, it's so beautiful,” You sighed happily. You pulled your phone from your jeans and took pictures through the truck window. They’d come out blurry and scratched, Frankie knew that. Then he had an idea.

“Do you want to pull over to take a proper photo?” He asked. Your mom had recently given you her old polaroid camera, the one she used when you and your siblings were younger. Having been there as a stop on the road trip already, it was sat in your bag waiting to be used. Here would be the best location to start, he thought.

“Really? What about your schedule?” Ever the military man, Frankie liked to have a plan and stuck to it religiously. You’d been on the road for two weeks, he had planned every moment down the minute. He’d refused to stop at rest stops, despite if he himself needed to pee, all in the name of the schedule. You were surprised he was allowing the break.

“Baby I can allow five minutes for a photo I’m not a complete hard ass,” He chuckled, “there's a stop point up ahead, I’ll pull over there and you can take some,”

You cheered and began to root around the stuffed backpack in the footwell to find out the camera. Frankie pulled the truck up ahead a few meters, parked and you jumped out eagerly.

“Fuck me it’s hot,” Outside of the cool AC in the vehicle, the air was dry but scorching hot. You could practically feel the soles of your shoes melting to the tar as you stood on the road.

“It is a desert,” Frankie said, looking around at the expansive nothingness.

“Really? Would never have guessed!” You stuck your tongue out at him, he copied and you quickly snapped a photo. Frankie pouted and reached for the paper as it printed but you were fast and slipped the photograph in your pocket before he could get it and ruin it.

Frankie wandered around the truck, you walked a few paces in the opposite direction enjoying stretching your legs. You’d been driving for eight hours, even if you had been asleep for the last two hours, your legs were cramped up. You stretched them out as you walked through the red dirt, watching your sneakers slowly become red stained too. You snapped a photo of Frankie leant against the truck staring off into the distance, a photo cliffs in the distance and then...

“Ah gross there's a skeleton!” You exclaimed. A half rotted carcass lay on the side of the road, bones pale under the beating sun it had been there for a while. It used to be a bird, though its feathers were gone. You stepped closer to it to get a better look.

“Don’t go closer to it!” Frankie said, walking over to you to look at it too.

“What? It’s already dead, it’s cool!” You peered at it, gagging as the smell of rotting flesh hit you. You retreated back to him and wrapped your arms around his waist as you took in the expansive desert surrounding you.

“I do worry about you sometimes,” He teased you.

“As you should, baby,” You grinned and kissed him quickly. “Take a picture of me, I’ve got loads of you,”

“Watch for cars,” Frankie warned as you stepped into the middle of the road.

“Somehow I think I might see them,” You joked, it was clear from miles around you. You stood in the road and posed for the photo, waiting for a moment before calling back, ”Did you take it?”

“If you stop moving!”

“I’m posing!” You laughed, Frankie raised a brow. “Fine I’ll hold still for you, slow poke,”

“Got one,” He said after another couple seconds. You sighed and jogged back over and took the developing photo from his fingers. You smiled, it was a really nice photo actually.

“That’s cute! You are a surprisingly good photographer,”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents,” He smiled proudly.

“That you are,” You pressed up on your toes and kissed him on the lips again, “I’m going to take a couple more and then I will be back in the car and we can get to Vegas!” You sang, doing an excited dance at the thought of finally getting to your destination. Frankie cheered too and laughed heartily before giving you ass a little tap and letting you go.

He watched you wander about in the wilderness ahead, ever the adventurer. Unlike him, you didn’t really know the harshness of the world. You knew the things he had done, the things he’d seen, but only through stories. You weren’t hardened to the world like he was, like he used to be. Pope always teased him that you’d turned him soft but Frankie couldn’t find fault in that if it meant he could have moments like this. Usually a small reminder in his head would tell him to watch the back mirror, to watch for people hidden on the side of the road. Now, he didn’t think about any of that and instead watched you stride fearlessly into the unknown, smiling at the wildness taking photos as if you belonged among the rocks that surrounded you.

Your smile was his favourite thing in the world. He would rather die than never wake up to see it again. You brought so much joy into his life, even when things were tough to hope that you would stick around long enough to smile again helped him through. Through fights, through low moments for the both of you the smile always sat as the prize for getting through the dark. It was what he dreamt of stuck in the Andes, it was what drove him home when he wanted to run away from everything. You.

The question had been his head the entire trip. He wanted to ask at a good time, a romantic spot meant something to the two of you. One memorable and meaningful. His plan was to take you out to California, where you’d met, and propose on the same beach. But each day with you in the truck was making him impatient. He nearly slipped it out when you had sex in the horrible motel you’d stayed at the night before. He was desperate, couldn’t wait another day to ask you to be his for forever. Now, watching you and your reaction to seeing it waking up from your nap. Maybe he didn’t need California, and past memories. Maybe he could make new ones here in the middle of the desert.

He watched you walk back to the truck, slipping the last polaroid into your back pocket. You opened the door and smiled at him. That smile. The decision was made. He had to ask now.

“What?” You asked, with an awkward laugh. You could tell he wanted to say something. He didn’t so you began to pack up your camera, putting it and the polaroid photos you’d taken away safely.

“What would you say if I asked you to marry me?” He asked, you stopped fiddling with your backpack and looked back up at him. Your heart fluttered in your chest.

“What?” You were surprised. You had spoken about marriage with him, from the beginning of your relationship you had joked about being grumpy grandparents on a porch swing together. You just didn’t think Frankie was the type to just ask like this. You sat up and looked at your boyfriend. He was staring directly at you, he cleared his throat and readjusted his shirt.

“Marry me? Tonight. In Vegas,” He said with more confidence, “Our friends are already there, I don’t have ring but we can go get one when we get there and I-,” He stopped, catching himself rambling, getting excited at the idea, “I would like to marry you,” He admitted, with a hopeful smile.

“You’re serious?” You asked, shocked at his words in the best way. Francisco didn’t speak, looking back at you with hopeful eyes. He needed an answer, “Yes of course I’ll marry you! Yes!”

“Thank fuck,” He gasped as you leaned over the console and kissed him hard. You’d kissed him a million times, but this was special, a new spark.

“I have one condition,” You said as you pulled away.

“Anything,” He smiled, eyes starry looking at you, so full of love.

“I want an Elvis impersonator to officiate” You tried to remain serious but couldn’t fight the grin on your lips. Frankie laughed and shook his head, “And you need to call my dad,” You said seriously, “I know it takes away from the spontaneity but he’d be-,”

“Already asked him, two weeks ago,” He interrupted you. Your jaw dropped, shocked.

“We were at their- Oh my god that’s why Dad had that stupid grin on his face when we left, isn’t it?” You gasped, hitting his arm playfully.

“Maybe,” He smirked, proud of himself now his plan had fully worked out. You gaped at him,

“So you really planned to propose next to a decaying bird?” You looked at the skeleton again, curling your lip at it.

“The bird wasn’t in the plan,” He chuckled, turning your attention back to him with his hands on your cheeks. You smiled and leant into his touch, affectionately.

“I love you Frankie Morales,” you whispered.

“I love you too sweetheart,”

---

tagging: @autumnleaves1991-blog the wonderful host of this awesome game

@hunters-heathen @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @this-cat-is-dea @wille-zarr

#writer wednesday #frankie morales x reader #catfish x reader #frankie x reader #triple frontier x reader #x reader #francisco morales x reader #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character x reader #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #fluff #x reader fluff #frankie x reader fluff #molly writes

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

All-Nighter (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.9K Warning: Language and alluded sexual situations Premise: He’d do anything for her, even fly across the country on moment’s notice.

A/N: If Ethan had gone to Vegas to spend a full night with MC. Crack and fluff. Sorry!

12:26 am

Ethan had never understood the appeal of Vegas. The city, crawling with gaudy exhibitionism, reckless gambling, and rowdy party-goers, had always seemed a tad tasteless to him. Even in his med school years when his cohort planned a trip to sin city, Ethan had preferred to find solace in an overpriced drink at a bar off the strip and not dancing against strangers in a stuffy nightclub.

Now, he had been convinced (albeit too easily) to take a six hour flight to a city he would much rather avoid.

His phone pinged with a notification from her, reminding him of the adult rated texts that had inspired his impromptu trip.

Miss you. Wish you could see me in this dress.

Seconds after, a picture came in and Ethan almost dropped his phone on the concrete.

And finally, she sent one final, maddening addendum: Or out of it.

It was lucky for Ethan that he was already in the same city as her, one an elevator ride away from ripping that tempting thing off of her.

I'm outside, he texted back.

More than anything, he wanted to give in to the burning need to just have her in his arms.

------------------

12:48 am

As Ethan waited outside the casino she mentioned in a previous text, however, the flashing neon lights making it almost difficult to distinguish that it was nighttime, he held a different doctor in his arms. A very drunk Dr. Lahela had haphazardly collided with him only seconds earlier, throwing an arm around him after recognition hit. Ethan was still unsure if the gesture was out of comradery or to maintain his balance.

“Ramseyyyy,” he called out with a suave ease that was admirable in his current state.

Before Ethan could answer, Varma and Sienna Trinh appeared at his side. The former looked just as intoxicated as Lahela, though she was doing a much better job at maintaining her balance and dignity. Sienna, however, looked sober, or sober enough to figure out why Ethan was there for she threw him a knowing smirk.

“Dr. Ramsey,” she greeted casually over the noise of the busy boulevard. “I forgot Edenbrook sent you here because of our contract with Panacea.”

It was a feeble excuse to explain his presence to the other two. It didn't matter because neither of them was listening anyway. Ethan doubted they ever questioned why he was there in the first place.

Lahela's arm gripped him tighter as he swayed. “Dr. Ramsey, you have to come with us to the Sugar Factory. They have this drink called the fish bowl. It's exactly what it sounds like except full of candy.”

It sounded like a drink straight out of his nightmare.

“Lahela, tell me why—”

To his horror, the young surgeon's face lit up as he started singing. “Ain't nothing but a heartache.”

“Tell me why,” an equally drunk passerby added.

“Ain't nothing but a mistake,” Lahela continued as others laughed and joined in. By the time they were finished, all three residents laughed hysterically while Ethan remained unmoved, silently wishing he had stayed in the blissful quiet of his apartment in Boston.

He was reminded of why he had left the comfort of his home to venture into the wild five minutes after the group had departed for the aforementioned Sugar Factory. His eyes found her as soon as she stepped out into the street, clad in the sinfully short dress from her picture. The effect it had on Ethan felt like a punch.

Lilac spotted him too, her face alight with a combination of surprise and unrestrained elation. Before either of them could stop what was about to happen, she rushed into his arms. On instinct, he lifted her off her feet, their lips meeting in a kiss charged with promise.

“Hi,” she greeted breathlessly when he carefully set her down.

“Hi,” he returned, sounding just as affected.

“I had to come out here to make sure you were really here. I can't believe you actually came,” she all but exclaimed, voice laced with giddy happiness. It made his stomach leap pleasantly, inspiring a foolish grin he didn't care to fight back anymore.

“Me neither,” he confessed.

“Well, I'm glad you did. I like this spontaneous Ethan Ramsey who flies across the country on a whim.”

That admission sent a thrill through his body. He realized he'd do anything to see that winsome smile each time, even if it meant dropping everything and rushing to her side hundreds of miles away.

------------------

1:32 am

“Eight, six, seven,” Lilac was saying over the roar of the fountains and the Celine Dion song. “Five, three, oh, nine.”

She waited for a hint of recognition, but as

she had suspected, the drunken frat boy did not understand the reference. Instead, he tapped the number into his phone and flashed her a sloppy smirk. “I'll call you later.”

Ethan appeared at her side after he was gone, shaking his head at her with a smirk.

“Your drink, Jenny,” he said, offering her a cup that looked to be more ice than drink.

Lilac laughed as she accepted it, her body gravitating to his side at once. A rush of dizzying joy almost overpowered her every time she realized she didn't have to fight that instinct here.

“Funny. That's the name I gave him too,” she said taking a sip. “He was insistent and drunk beyond comprehension. I thought it'd be easier to give him a fake number.”

“You gave him a song,” Ethan commented with a laugh. A rare, taunting grin illuminated his face, rendering him the handsomest man she had ever seen. “And you could've just told him you have a boyfriend.”

She arched an intrigued eyebrow, already moving into his embrace. “I have a boyfriend, do I?”

Ethan's free arm encircled her, casting a glow of warmth over her body. It could have been the small amount of alcohol in her system or this newfound energy that crackled between them, still fizzing with longing but considerably lighter than in the past months.

He nodded in mock seriousness.

“And is he the jealous type?”

Ethan genuinely scoffed at that, his fingers aimlessly caressing her bare back. It made her skin blaze where he touched her. “Jealous of what? A sweaty frat boy crass enough to hit on a beautiful but evidently uninterested woman? Believe me, there's nothing to be jealous about.”

“Case in point,” she laughed, raising herself to kiss his nose.

Ethan laughed too and took advantage of their sudden proximity to press his lips against hers, their kiss sweet and just as dizzying as the many desperate, passionate ones they had shared. When they parted, that fiery, striking gaze of his remained locked on hers, making her thighs quiver.

The song in the background reached its final notes as the jets of water disappeared into the dark pool glittering in front of the lavish hotel. The crowd began to disperse but Ethan and Lilac remained on the sidewalk, basking in a content lull, his arm securely around her and her cheek pressed against his chest. She knew without asking that he was enjoying this small allowance of being a real couple just as much as she was.

At last, her eyes fell on the replica of the Eiffel Tower across the street. In the span of a second, she wondered what it would be like to be in front of the real one, safely wrapped in Ethan's arms.

“I wonder how it compares to the real one,” she wondered out loud.

“I've never seen it but I'd wager it's not a true representation.”

For some reason, she found that surprising. “You've never been to Paris?”

“I've been for work but my time was spent doing just that. I didn't venture out much into the city to sightsee. To be honest, I didn't understand the appeal.”

The pause that followed suggested he wanted to add more but he remained silent. When Lilac pulled back from his embrace to look at him, she found those piercing blue eyes studying her intently.

“I know what we should do for that date you teased in your texts,” she said when she finally found the words.

It was Ethan's turn to arch his brow at her in interest. “I thought this was our date?”

“Yes, but we're in Vegas. There's so much to do at this hour. And besides, you promised me all night in one of your texts.”

The crooked smile he gave her along with the wicked glint in his eye should have been illegal. He leaned in and whispered darkly, “That's not what I meant.”

Five words and she was all over him, kissing him in ways that were inappropriate even for Vegas. They broke apart and Ethan looked at her expectantly.

“So what's this idea for our date?” he prompted when Lilac merely stared at him, lips still burning from his kiss.

“Oh, right. I was thinking since we were both two giant nerds who powered through med school and never traveled—”

At this, Ethan shook his head, amused.

“—we could each pick something to do here in Vegas that feels like traveling to somewhere remote.”

“But instead we'll be in a loud casino, surrounded by obnoxious crowds and exposed to secondhand smoke?”

Lilac rolled her eyes which made him laugh.

“Fine, I'll do it. But you pick first.”

---------------

2:17 am

As they glided through the clear waters, Ethan had to admit he could see the appeal in the faux gondola ride. Even if it was romantic, the critical part of him dwelled on the fact that the canals of Venice did not smell strongly of chlorine. He almost voiced the cynical observation out loud, before he remembered this was her idea and the last thing he wanted was to offend her. Although, he was certain Lilac would only laugh and playfully shove him.

But Lilac was not taunting him, which should have been his first indication that something was off. She wasn't even marveling at the painted ceiling of the casino or making snide comments about the high end shops at the edge of the water and the people who shopped there. Instead, she pressed firmly against his side, her nails digging into his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

Lilac plastered on the weakest attempt at a smile. Ethan only waited until she dropped the act and said, “Is it weird that the water is freaking me out?”

Ethan considered that. “Are you afraid of open water?”

Lilac shook her head. “No, or I would have never suggested this. But once we got in and started moving, the water just looked terrifying?”

Ethan gave her reassuring smile. “We can get off if you want.”

Again, she shook her head with a brave determination that made his stomach flutter. She was entirely too adorable, even without trying.

“No, I'll be fine,” she said through a steadying breath. “I'll just refrain from looking at the creepy water. And I'll try not to think about what we'll do if this thing flips over.”

“Rookie, the water is three feet deep. If we capsize we can just...get up on our feet.”

Lilac's eyes moved to meet his at the words. They stared at each other in the golden glow of their surroundings, their expressions unreadable. The silent seconds stretched until they both dissolved into hearty and borderline hysterical laughter.

Ethan tried his best to sober up first, but when he was close to regaining his composure, he would meet her eye and then they'd both continue to laugh relentlessly. He was aware that they were drawing curious looks from the people observing from the bridges. Even the gondolier cast them a questioning look but said nothing.

Ethan didn't care.

It was the happiest he had felt in weeks, amidst everything that had happened.

They finally sobered and Lilac sighed, much more at ease than before. When she settled against Ethan, it was with her hand softly pressed against his chest, directly over the heartbeat that pounded fiercely for her.

------------

3:31 am

The plan had been to go dancing at the Egyptian themed casino, much to her companion's dismay. In the end, she won against his protest and Lilac was feeling particularly proud of herself for talking Ethan Ramsey into going to a nightclub. Then again, she hadn't missed how his eyes occasionally traveled along the expanse of her plunging neckline or how his fingers trailed along her exposed back whenever he held her. A lot of the credit was owed to the dress.

Which is probably why they never made it to the nightclub. Instead, they hastily detoured to the penthouse suite the leeches at Panacea paid for, their hands and lips on one another for the majority of the journey there.

Thirty minutes after ensuring they were truly alone, the miraculous dress lay pooled on her bedroom floor, completely forgotten. Meanwhile, Ethan moved against her in ways that made her scream out his name. As they both reached the peak, Lilac leaned in to whisper exactly what she wanted him to do.

With a grunt, Ethan obeyed wholeheartedly.

“Your turn,” she panted minutes later as she rolled off of him.

“As you wish,” he said, the words interrupted as he too struggled to catch his breath. “Although you know I prefer it when you take the lead.”

She laughed. “No, your turn to pick a place to go next.”

Ethan flipped on his side, offering her the sexiest grin. God, she was really thinking about sleeping with him again, mere minutes after the first round.

“I thought I picked this one,” he teased, his voice thick and heavy in ways that made her center pool with heat.

“We both picked this one,” she argued before she kissed him.

-------------

3:47 am

Ethan only pretended to consider their next destination. The truth was that he knew the answer since the moment she suggested it in front of the fountains.

They only had to leave the bed, a feat that was more challenging than it sounded.

Lilac, far more determined than Ethan, even got as far as slipping back into the lacy black underwear he had removed with his teeth earlier. The deliberately coy smile she sent his way when she realized he was staring, however, had his hands on her hips in seconds.

“Fucking hell, Lilac,” he murmured against her mouth as he pulled her on top of him for the second time that hour.

----------

4:59 am

After a third failed attempt to get out of bed, which resulted in both of them making good on the promises they made in their earlier texts, Lilac sat up in bed to look at him full on. She gave him what was supposed to be a stern, admonishing look, but she knew it was half hearted because he looked at her with such adoration that she broke a smile.

“No more distracting me. You're not getting out of picking, Ramsey.”

Ethan's eyes remained fixed on hers in the darkness of the room, his expression betraying no hints of amusement. Outside, the sky began to glow with the first rays of orange and pink, the promise of the sun's arrival setting the inky blue sky ablaze.

She frowned, noting the lines of exhaustion on his handsome face. “Are you tired? We can just stay if—”

“We're already here,” he said quietly. “The place I pick.”

“Bed?” she asked with a startled laugh. “Ethan Ramsey, you are almost a romantic.”

“Almost?” His mouth betrayed a hint of a smile. “I'm offended, Rookie. But no, as wonderful as we are in bed, that's not my choice.”

Ethan didn't elaborate, the small crease between his brows suggesting he was deep in thought. Every so often, his eyes flickered to hers, holding her gaze briefly before they moved away just as quickly.

“I'm not—” he started, stopped, and tried again. “I'm not good at this kind of thing.”

A slight flush colored his angled cheekbones, so endearing that she couldn't help but kiss him. In all honesty, she wasn't any better at any of it either, only suggesting the date idea as a clichéd way for them to spend time together in a faraway city. It hadn’t been her proudest moment but had Googled ideas the moment he said he was outside.

Nervous energy filled the room in their shared silence.

“The only place in the world I give a damn about is by your side, Lilac,” he said at last, the words quiet but powerful enough to make her pulse clamor like bells.

Ethan scratched the back of his head at her silence. “I was also hoping this goddamn penthouse had a balcony. I would've picked that as my date because of Miami and the first time we—”

Lilac interrupted him with a kiss, the force of it over balancing Ethan and sending him into the pillows. She didn't care that their kiss was unceremonious and far from romantic. All she was aware of was the growing, urgent need to kiss this cheesy, romantic, brilliant man. He laughed against her lips, strong hands steadying her on top of him.

“You're so much better at this than you give yourself credit for,” she informed him when they broke apart.

“Good,” he said, lifting his head to kiss the curve of her neck. “I was worried there was finally something I didn't excel at.”

------------------

A/N: Meanwhile, her friends are still partying somewhere on the Strip, begging Bryce to quit drinking while he’s ahead. Those fish bowl drinks are no joke.

Holy shit that was 3K of nothingness. If you made it this far, thank you!

This was loosely based on my experience(s) going to Vegas, although I don’t remember most of it. Again, those fish bowl drinks will destroy you lol.

Thank you to @aestheticartsx for your help with this mess!

P.S. Sorry about the dress in the pic not being the exact same one. I saw some that were close but the wrong color. Others were too crazy with that neckline. Ethan would’ve just dropped dead lol.

___________

New Tags: (Hope I didn’t miss anyone!)

@openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @ethandaddyramsey, @trappedinfandoms, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself, @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, @choicesstan1, @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @mrsramseyy, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @angela8756, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphil, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble

Interest in this fic:

@udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @khayy19, @mercury84choices, @jlynn12273, @fireycookie

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

301 notes · View notes

ssa-babygirl · 4 years

Text

Out of My League [Part 3]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: ~4.5k

Summary: Nothing brings two friends together like a bit of grief with a side of daddy issues. (Mixed POV, includes flashbacks)

Warning(s): As the summary states, angst, grief and daddy issues, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of cancer, a few swear words, i think that’s it??? i use the word “smile” like 138407894 times i’m so sorry i hate noticing my crutch words

Author’s Note: I am SO sorry how long this took I honestly have no excuse, this chapter isn’t even that great but this is only two thirds of what I actually intended this part to be so GUESS WHAT I SPLIT IT UP!!!! the next part shouldn’t take too long (I say that but watch it’s gonna take like another year) and it’s gonna be super fluffy so DON’T Y’ALL WORRY IT’S GONNA BE FLUFF CENTRAL FOR THE NEXT COUPLE OF CHAPTERS

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

WASHINGTON D.C., 2007

(Reader POV)

You had only been to D.C. a few times before to visit your dad, normally under happier circumstances, such as him getting sworn in for another term, but this time was not the case. You got the phone call from your mother the evening before when you quickly packed yours and Jamie’s bags for the flight that left later that night. The few hours you had spent in D.C. already felt like long days. You were physically and emotionally exhausted. Jamie had never been on a plane before and was grappling with the effects of jet lag.

You needed a bit of a pick-me-up yourself, so you ran over to a coffee shop for a bit of a change of scenery. It was about eight o'clock in the morning when you heard your name being called, but not by the barista making your drinks, but by a familiar voice that you had only heard over the phone for a couple of months since his last visit home. You turned around to face the source and locked eyes with Spencer.

“Hey!” You smiled, trying your best to not look like you had just had the longest 24 hours of your life.

“What are you doing here? Why didn’t you say you were gonna be in town?”

“I didn’t know I was gonna be in town until last night!” Spencer could see right through you. He pursed his lips, not asking what was wrong yet, but still opting to check-in and make sure you’re okay.

“How are you feeling? Jet lagged?”

“Some profiler.” Your chuckle came out more annoyed than you would have liked it to.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, just getting some coffee--”

“No, like, are you okay?” He knew something was wrong, he wasn’t stupid, quite the opposite, by a long shot.

“I’m fine, Spence,” you lied through your teeth.

“Then who isn’t?” Panic and worry flashed across his face, “Is Jamie okay?

“Yes! He’s fine!” You couldn’t help but smile at the relief Spencer displayed that your son was safe and well, his hand coming up to rest over his heart. You hesitated for a second before giving in and telling him why you seemed so off, “My dad’s sick in the hospital.”

“Oh! Do they know what’s wrong with him?”

“Yep. Stage 4 lung cancer.” Your dad had been a smoker for most of your life. He tried to quit after Jamie was born, but the damage had already been done.

Spencer looked genuinely heartbroken as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of what to say next “Do you know how much time he has?”

“Couple of weeks if we’re lucky.”

His eyebrow furrowed and his golden eyes softened to an impossible degree, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This wasn’t sudden, we’ve been expecting it, but when the doctor says eight to twelve months, and you get through month eight, you start hoping it’s gonna be twelve.”

“Are you going back to the hospital now?”

“Yeah-”

“I’ll come with you!”

“Don’t you have work?”

“I don’t have to be there for another hour and,” he checks his watch, which was pulled over the sleeve of his dark gray cardigan, “fifty-six minutes.”

“The hospital’s out of the way and you hate being late.”

“I hate the thought of you going through this alone even more.” You tried to ignore the warm and fuzzy feeling that gave you but ultimately failed. Those big brown eyes refused to stop studying your face, analyzing any signs that you needed him, which to be fair, you did.

“I’m not alone, I got Jamie and my mom.”

“Even more the reason for me to want to go with you.” He finally dropped the solemn frown and took up a bright smile instead. You swore his grin was contagious because, by the time you both got your coffees, you were smiling just as wide.

You drove back to the hospital in comfortable silence. Walking back to your father’s room felt easier with him by your side. Jamie looked up from his drawing as he saw you approach, beaming at you and his favorite federal agent.

“Doctor Spencer!” He came running up to him and hugging his legs.

“Hey, little man!” Spencer ruffled his hair and grinned down at the tiny human squeezing his arms around his thigh.

Your mother looked up from her book, “Doctor? Spencer? Wait. As in…”

“Yeah, mom.”

She stands and wraps him in a hug, “Oh my goodness, sweetheart, you got so big! You’re all grown up! Oh, and you’re cute, too!” She pinched his now pink cheek as his face twisted into a bashful smile, “Right, Y/N? Spencer got cute!”

Now you were blushing a little.

Why am I blushing? I don’t blush over Spencer!

You pursed your lips and looked him up and down. His striped tie was crooked under his cardigan. His long hair was a bit shaggy, as if he rolled out of bed, showered, and decided to go to work. You just laughed nervously as you met Spencer’s eyes. God, those eyes. “Yeah… I’d say so.”

“You definitely grew into your looks. Honey, this is Spencer. Remember the boy that used to tutor Y/N?”

“Oh, nice to finally meet you, son, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Your father shifted in his bed, managing to sit up slightly.

“You too, sir, I just wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

“Don’t give me any of that ‘sir’ crap, I got enough of that working on the Hill,” your father chuckled but his hearty laugh quickly devolved into a coughing fit. Your mother sat back down on the bed next to him and fed him some ice chips to keep him hydrated.

“So, Spencer, Y/N says you work for the FBI now?” She turns her attention away from her husband and forces a smile.

“Yes! I do.”

You took a seat and sipped your coffee, “He was on the team that helped save Jamie, remember?”

“What division are you in?” Your dad asked.

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“I got some buddies in the bureau, who’s your supervisor?”

“Aaron Hotchner?”

“Oh, I knew him in his prosecutor days. Helluva lawyer, he got some of my clients put away.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, they were guilty, weren’t they?”

Spencer’s phone rang in his pocket, “Speaking of which, I have to go. Got a case.”

“Go! Don’t be late!”

“Go catch the bad guy, Doctor Spencer!”

“Will do, Jamie.” He ruffled his hair before turning to your parents, “Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. L/N, it was great seeing you.”

“Bye, sweetheart, don’t be a stranger!”

“I’ll walk you out, return the favor.” You walked quietly with him.

“Listen, I don’t know when I’ll be home from this, but I’ll let you know when I get back, and if you’re still here just give me a call, okay?”

“Of course, Spence. Now go catch the bad guy!” You grinned as you parroted your son’s words. He returned your smile and pulled you into a hug. You could feel tears brimming in your eyes, but you fought it off best you could. Spencer could still sense your pain and hugged you as tight as possible. You were the one to pull away first, patting his back and forcing your pursed lips into a smile. His phone started to ring shortly after.

“Don’t let me keep you.”

(Spencer’s POV)

The case went on for too long. Two whole weeks passed before we were able to come home from Minneapolis. A man was strangling women with short black hair between the ages 30-40 because they reminded him of his mother, it’s standard stuff, it should have been a pretty cut and dry case, but the guy was almost impossible to find, he was completely off the grid. It took Garcia days to just get us a name, let alone contact information. He killed two other women while we were there. One of them was a mother, she had three kids all under the age of 10. Cases like these were always tough, but Gideon had seen enough to talk us all through it. I still wasn’t used to him being gone.

I couldn’t get any sleep on the jet. The nightmares have been coming back with a vengeance since Gideon left. He was like a father to me, my protector, my mentor, and now I have no one.

That’s hyperbolic; I do have the team, and they miss him too, but I’m pretty much alone out on the field. I know I can go to them, but it doesn’t feel right. I don’t like to rely on others because when they leave, I’m by myself.

Which is exactly why I am the only one awake on the jet home.

I suppose I wasn’t totally alone, I could call Y/N, but I wouldn’t wanna bother her if she was with her family. She only has so much time left with her dad. I took my phone out of my pocket anyway and saw a missed call from her last night, I hadn’t seen it before because of the case. If she wanted to talk she probably needed to, right?

I mulled it over in my head, and before I could even come to a decision, my fingers worked on autopilot, dialing the same number I had memorized years ago, and hit call.

Las Vegas, 1994

I picked up the book from the top of the pile she set down on the counter, “You’re reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“Yeah, for class.”

“If you need any help with that, my mother was a classics professor, I’ve read most of Shakespeare’s works.”

“Really? That’s cool. I’ve read the basics in other classes, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Macbeth, all that, but this one is definitely my favorite so far.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I don’t know why, but the idea of falling in love with the wrong person just sorta… I dunno… resonates, I guess.”

“Yeah, same here.”

She snorted, “You’re like 12, how would you know about that?”

I bit my lip before explaining, “Reminds me of my parents. They loved each other at one point, obviously, but not enough to stop my dad from leaving us.”

She cringed to herself as if she realized some horrible mistake, “Jeez, I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“How long ago did he leave?”

“Two years ago.”

“So it’s just been you and your mom?”

“Yeah.”

She stared at the pencil as she twisted it in between her fingers. Her eyes refused to meet mine. “My dad has worked in D.C. pretty much my whole life, and a lot of the time it was just my mom and me. He was always home for Christmas and birthdays, he came to all my recitals as a kid, but he was gone the rest of the year. I see him maybe… fifteen days out of the year?”

She finally looked up, if only for a second. Seeing her eyes, at last, I took note of the sadness behind them, “Which is fine, it’s better than nothing, but I don’t really have a dad the other 350 days of the year, you know? I could call him, but I don’t, it’s always ‘Sorry sweetheart, I’m a bit busy right now.’”

“Yeah, my dad was always too busy too.”

“I know our situations are still really different, and you probably already know this after two years, but it does get easier.”

Present Day

(Reader POV)

You click the button to answer the call, “Spencer?”

“Hey! We’re landing soon, you still in D.C.?” His voice is scratchy like he had just woken up, or like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in a couple of hours.

“Y-yeah! I’m still staying with my mom.”

“How’s your dad?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to, your silence answered his question well enough.

“Oh, shit…” Spencer groaned, “God, Y/N, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be, you didn’t know.”

“How long ago?”

“Last week, the funeral was yesterday.” You could hear him grimace over the phone.

“Y/N I am… so sorry I couldn’t be there for you—”

“Don’t be! You had to work, it’s okay, Spencer.”

“I should have called sooner.”

You almost laughed at his tone, “Spencer, you were catching a serial killer, it’s not your responsibility to make sure I’m okay.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing. I’m fine.”

“How’s Jamie, god, how’s your mother?”

“She’s holding up. I’m helping her out for a while, I don’t want her to be in this house alone.” You decided to leave out the part about you putting a downpayment on an apartment a couple of blocks away from your mother’s house for now.

“How’s Jamie doing?” He asked with perfect timing as Jamie flopped onto the couch behind you.

“Wanna talk to him? He’s right here.”

“Can I? Please?”

“Jamie, baby, wanna talk to Doctor Spencer?” He didn’t even say yes before he leaped up from his seat and grabbed the phone from your hand.

“Hi, Doc!”

“Hey, little man! How��s it going? How are you?” You could still hear his excited voice even though it was nowhere near your ear anymore. It brought a smile to your face as you saw Jamie light up at the sound of your friend on the other side of the call.

“I’m okay. Did you catch the bad guy?”

“Yes, Jamie, we got him. How’s your mom?”

“She’s saying she’s fine, but she’s still really sad.”

“Well, can you put her back on with me?” Jamie hands the phone back to you and runs off to return to his coloring book and crayons.

You sighed before putting the phone back to your ear, “Don’t worry about me, Spence—”

“Come to the BAU.”

He said the words so fast you almost needed him to repeat it, “What?”

“I mean it, I’ll call you when we land, come visit. Bring Jamie and your mom.”

“Won’t you have a ton of work to do when you land?”

“I couldn’t sleep, I did all my paperwork on the jet.”

“Spencer—”

“Please. I need to see you guys.” He was practically begging. It tugged at your heart in a familiar way, but there was a pit in your stomach that you couldn’t place.

“What happened on the case?”

He sighed, “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Just come in like, an hour.”

You tried to lighten the mood just a little bit, “My mom’s been obsessively baking, want us to bring you your favorite?”

“Did she make her famous oatmeal cookies?” You could almost see his face and the way his brown eyes lit up, even while he was on a plane hours away.

The image brought a soft smile to your face and sparked a tiny bit of light in your heart, “Yep!”

“Y/N L/N, if you bring me some, I will be forever indebted to you.”

“You owe me nothing, Doctor Reid.”

Security waved you through to the elevator, Spencer had cleared you for entry already. One guard hit the button for the sixth floor and sent you up, one hand holding Jamie’s and the other holding a Tupperware of your mom’s cookies. When the doors opened, you saw the entrance to the bullpen, desks filled with paperwork, and busy agents trying to get it all done. As the three of you crept through the hall to the glass doors, your eyes locked onto Spencer, who was sprawled out in his office chair with a thick book, legs propped up on his desk, and glasses balanced on the ridge of his nose.

“Hi! Who are you here to see?” A chipper blonde with purple cat eyeglasses and curly ponytails waved at you from down the hall.

“Spencer Reid?”

“Oh! He mentioned he’d have visitors, you must be Y/N! I’m Penelope.”

“That’s a pretty name!” Jamie beamed up to the woman, who clutched a hand over her heart and returned his smile.

“Oh! Thank you, sweetheart! What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Jamie!”

“Oh you are just precious, he is precious, Y/N, good kid.”

You laughed at the pair’s enthusiasm, “Thank you, can we just go straight in?”

“Yep! Go ahead!”

You walked up to his desk and placed the cookies next to his computer, pulling his attention away from his book. He turned to look up at you, closing the book and throwing it where his feet rested before he jumped up to wrap his arms around you. Jamie hugged his leg and your mother pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hey, how are you guys doing?”

“Spencer, we’re fine.”

He didn’t say anything, just examined your face for any sign of a lie. The frustration on his face said he didn’t find one.

“Stop profiling me, I’m okay.”

“Mommy, can I have a cookie now?” Jamie eyed the container like a hawk; he shared Spencer’s love of oatmeal cookies, especially from your mom.

“Right! You brought your cookies, thank you so much, Mrs. L/N.”

“You’re not a kid anymore, honey, you can call me by my first name.”

“No, I absolutely cannot,” he laughed.

“Y/N?”

You turned around and saw the woman who hugged you while you cried when you thought your son was gone: JJ.

“Hi! Good to see you again!” You brought her in for a hug while Spencer continued to catch up with Jamie and your mom.

“You too! Jamie got so big!”

“Yeah, he’s starting 3rd grade soon!” You reached around to ruffle Jamie’s hair.

“When does he start?”

“A few weeks! We gotta go back to school shopping!”

“Ooh, that’s exciting! So you’re heading home soon?”

“Um…” You glanced at Spencer and your mom, who was pestering him about whether or not he had a girlfriend, “Actually, I just thought it would be best for us to stay close to my mom. Jamie likes it here, so we’re actually going to be moving here before school starts.”

“A new school! Are you excited, Jamie?”

“Yeah!”

Spencer, still a blushing mess thanks to your mother’s nosiness, sputtered out “Uh… Excited for what?”

“To move to D.C.!” You raised your hands in a little “Surprise!” motion.

“W-what?” He couldn’t stop himself from looking delighted even if he tried.

“We’re moving here to stay close to my mom.”

“She’s been such a good help,” she gestured to the cookies, half gone over the course of the conversation, “I’m not really ready to give her up just yet.”

“Spence, you should show her around!” JJ’s face had an unreadable look, but I guess that’s what profilers are for “Take her sightseeing. Jamie, have you been to the Washington Monument yet?”

“Nope! Doctor Spencer, can you take us?”

“Sure, little man, you want your mom and grandma to come with?”

“Yes!”

Spencer grinned at him, ruffling his curls before smiling at you. His eyes were scrunched into thin lines from his cheeks, but there was still something behind them. Something you couldn’t quite read. His smile softened slightly and you finally got a clear view of his hazel eyes. His lips parted like he was about to say something, but Jamie cut him off again.

“Ooh! Ooh! Can we go to the Smithsonian?”

“Oh, honey, you’re gonna wish you didn’t say that,” JJ joked.

“The kid knows everything, you’ll be there for hours,” a deep voice said behind you.

“Morgan!” You smiled and stretched your arms out to hug him.

“Good to see you again, Y/N.”

When you turned back to Spencer, his warm grin was gone, replaced by a glare directed at Morgan. Had something happened with them? Last you heard they were best friends. Maybe that’s what happened on the case? Maybe that’s why he was so upset on the phone? Whatever it was had to be bad because he barely spoke for the rest of the visit.

A few weeks later, after you were all moved into your new apartment and Jamie was settled into his new school, you called Spencer. He owed you a trip to the Washington Monument. On your little day trip, there was no such thing as silence. Even in the quiet museum, Spencer’s voice filled the air, spewing facts about the monument, the memorial, the exhibits, and everything in between. Jamie loved to learn, so he hung onto every word that he heard.

“Plans for the monument’s development actually started in 1783, before Washington was even elected president. D.C. wasn’t even the capital of the country yet. Washington was actually against the monument because he didn’t want to use public funds for it, but after his death, Congress wanted to build him a mausoleum--”

You didn’t mind the rants. You still loved to listen to him ramble. Even if you didn’t understand what he was talking about sometimes, the sound of his voice was just soothing, especially after the stress of moving across the country.

Jamie got tired after walking around all day after the tour of the National Museum of Natural History and the Washington Monument, so your mom offered to take him home. You planted a kiss to his forehead and ruffled his hair, hugging your mom goodbye as Spencer high fived him and waved as they went off in the direction of home.

“You know, you didn’t have to stay with me. If you wanna go home too, you can.”

“No. I wanna stay with you.”

A small smile crept across his lips, blush rising to his cheeks. He bit his lips and looked down at his feet as he started walking off to the next stop on his little tour.

“Where to now, Doc?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Come on, tell me, tell me!”

“No, ‘cuz then it’s not a surprise!”

“I’m aware of the definition of surprise, you don’t need to have an eidetic memory to know that.” You would just have to rely on your less refined profiling skills to figure out where you were going. You were on foot, so it couldn’t be too far.

“Why aren’t we taking a cab?”

“Because I wanna walk with you.”

Just hail a cab, it takes way less time than--

Oh.

You walked side by side for the remainder of the distance. He did most of the talking, telling you stories about the team. You took notice of the softness in his voice when he talked about Morgan. He wasn’t bitter anymore.

“--And then Garcia answered the phone.”

“Oh, god, what’d she say?”

“‘Talk dirty to me.’”

“No!”

“Yep!”

“She said that to your boss.”

“Morgan was mortified, you should have seen his face.”

You looked at him while he grinned at the memory. It was the most at peace you’d seen him in… well, a while.

“So… you guys are cool now?”

The peace was replaced with confusion, “What do you mean?”

Your pace faltered, but you kept walking, “Didn’t you guys…? Weren’t you fighting?”

“No? Why would you think that?”

You pursed your lips and furrowed your brows, “No reason.”

Why else would he have been mad at Morgan when I went to visit? You thought, There’s no other reason! Unless…

Oh--

“We’re here!” Spencer stopped in his tracks, looking up at a large white structure with tall windows and stone carvings decorating the walls. You turned and saw the sign out front that read: “Folger Shakespeare Library.”

“Spencer…” You gaped at the sign, a small, awe-filled smile tugging at your lips.

“I remembered how much you loved Shakespeare in school, I thought you’d get a kick out of this.”

“Spencer, this is… This is wonderful!”

“Good surprise?”

“Great surprise!”

You grabbed him by the arm and tugged him up the front steps as he digs through his pockets for his wallet. Once inside, he bought two tickets for the next show: Midsummer Night’s Dream. Your favorite. It didn’t start for another half hour, so he led you to the reading room.

The room was beautiful, to put it lightly. Three ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The furniture and accents were all done in a dark wood, shelves packed tightly with books. The setting sun shone through the breathtaking stained glass windows. An unlit fireplace rested against the wall. Spencer led you up to the second level, a balcony wrapping around the border of the room.

“Thank you for today,” you beamed, “I haven’t seen Jamie that happy since…”

“I know the feeling. I haven’t felt this okay since…” His gaze dropped to his feet, trying to swallow the words that came out too soon.

“Since what?”

“Since uh...” He glanced back up to your face, “Since Gideon left the team.”

Spencer never told you he left. Agent Gideon kept tabs on Jamie after his rescue. For the last three years, he got a card in the mail on Christmas and his birthday. He always checked in and asked how he was doing. When you went to visit Spencer at the BAU a few weeks ago, you wanted to say hi to Agent Gideon and thank him for his consideration, but you hadn’t seen him. You thought he was just taking a personal day, he worked too hard anyways from what Spencer told you.

“Spence, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

The words were like a spark that shocked your heart awake from a lovely sleep, and now it was upset to be so rudely awoken, “Of course I care! What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t wanna know the reason you’ve been so… off.”

“What do you mean ‘off?’”

“You don’t have to be a profiler to see you haven’t been yourself in… when did Gideon leave?”

He played with a loose thread on the sleeve of his sweater and looked back down at his feet, the toe of his converse nudging at the emerald green carpet, “Couple of months ago.”

“You could have told me.”

“You’ve had your own stuff going on. It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t have to convince yourself that you aren’t having a hard time just because I am. You don’t always have to be the hero.”

“Neither do you, you know.”

“I really am fine.”

“Y/N, he was your dad, you’re allowed to be upset.”

“I am, okay?” You snapped, “I miss him like hell! He was always just one phone call away and now…” One hand carded through your hair as you inhaled deeply, placing your other hand on the banister beside you to steady yourself.

“I’m not going to pretend that our situations are the same because they aren’t, but I’ll tell you the same thing you told me when we were kids.” He placed his hand close to yours on the banister, your fingers almost touching. Almost. “It gets easier, not seeing him every day. But just ‘cuz he wasn’t around doesn’t mean you can’t feel bad.”

You force a smile, “Thanks, Spence.”

“Of course.” He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. The hug wasn’t particularly emotional. Neither one of you felt like you were about to cry, it just felt nice to be in each other's embrace.

“Show’s starting soon.” He muttered into your ear before pulling away, walking off towards the theater with you following close behind.

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