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gurugirl · 2 years

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Forgive Me, Father | Part 1

Summary: Harry is a priest with a dark secret but he's got a big heart and he's looking for someone special to share it with. When Y/n confesses her sins, he thinks she might just be the one.

A/n: Part 1 of 3 - this is 16k words. I haven't really written anything with this type of dom/sub play before - though this first part doesn't get too deep into it, you'll know it when you read it.

Warning: Dom/sub dynamics, mentions of religion and sin, floggings for pleasure and penance, mentions of sexual situations and masturbation, sexual tension, mentions of caging, punishment, cheating

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Harry was a holy man despite his particular desires. He became a priest relatively young but he took all the necessary steps; went to seminary for four years, studied theology and philosophy as an undergraduate, made his vows then became a man of the cloth. He was a deacon, his transitional role for just over a year in Manchester the first time he felt tempted by a beautiful young woman in the congregation. But he resisted. He knew the devil was trying him. But his holy side won out over his flesh.

He desired to act on his flesh, though. And he might have if he’d been given a moment alone with the young woman. He imagined what it would be like but it was easy to resist when he hadn’t really had a real opportunity. All his formative years had him at all-boys schools as well. His four years in seminary were spent amongst young men his age. It wasn’t until his fourth year at seminary that he realized he was even attracted to men. The realization was a difficult one for him at first, being a man of God, a Christian on the path to priesthood. It was troubling to him so he pushed his sexual desires down until they only manifested in his sleep with salacious dreams and waking up wet in his underwear.

When he finally became ordained and was given his own congregation he felt he’d made it at last. The road to get where he was took a long time. The diocese wouldn't take a man under 30 in many cases, so he found a place that would because he knew in his heart he was ready. There were no shortcuts to becoming a priest, a five-year-long journey at minimum. For many, the transitional period took a lot longer than it did for Harry. A year of transition as a deacon is the minimum and that’s all it took for Harry to be called by God to his own church.

Being a 27-year-old man with his own congregation in small-town Wisconsin felt daunting. Harry was not from the US and he’d never been to Wisconsin before arriving in the town. The parish was near the shores of Lake Michigan. It was quaint and quiet but it was home to nearly 100,000 people. Not so small that he'd be lacking for company.

Harry worked and lived in the same buildings for three years diligently. He was kind to his congregation, a good priest and leader, made friends with many of the people who were members, and always had a warm meal offered to him through an invite to come to the houses of families who attended his services.

He didn’t always take them up on the meals. Harry enjoyed being alone at the end of the day but most evenings he’d find himself at someone’s home eating a big dinner with people he usually considered family. On his 30th birthday, his congregation held a small surprise potluck for him after service one Sunday. He felt blessed to have such a wonderful group of followers. He truly loved them.

On a Friday evening, Mrs. Brockton had called Harry and invited him to dinner. Harry had a feeling deep down that he should say no. But he liked Mrs. Brockton. Maybe he liked her a little too much. He would never act on the carnal, it was in his vows to remain celibate, though the rules had been loosened somewhat over the years for priests, Harry was invested in the old way of doing things. God and his priesthood came first for him. The sin of lust led many to take a husband or a wife just for the sake of their flesh. Harry would not give his heart to anyone but God.

But part of that reasoning for going to the extreme with his vows was because of his unsavory desires. He never acted on them, but he fantasized and would have vivid dreams of the things he wished he could play out in real life. There was an aspect of denial of the flesh that he got off on as well. It made him feel superior in some ways; the continual denial of his lust and sin.

A man of thirty years, he was still a virgin, and happily. Proudly even. He also could count how many times in his life he'd masturbated when he became weak to his flesh. He rarely sinned in such a way but when he did it was always atoned for with a flog at his back and his chest.

Harry brought with him only his Bible when he arrived at Mr. and Mrs. Brockton's home. She told him not to bring any food or drink, but that she would have everything taken care of.

And she most certainly had everything taken care of. Down to the detail she conveniently forgot to mention, that Mr. Brockton was gone for a work trip in another city for the evening.

"I cannot stay Mrs. Brockton. I hope you do understand. We must at all times keep even the appearance of evil at bay. If others were to know I was here without Mr. Brockton they could get the wrong idea," he spoke as he clutched the Bible over his heart. The home smelled divine. She'd obviously been cooking up something wonderful and she clearly had taken the time to freshen up her appearance as well. Not that she needed it. Mrs. Brockton was a beautiful woman, even Harry could see that.

"Father Styles, please. Can we address one another casually? You can call me Natalie if you don't mind that I just call you Harry. And... look, I know I should have told you but I'm lonely and I need counsel tonight. As a friend. As someone I trust to not tell anyone my problems. George being gone tonight is the only time I'll have for this. I wanted this to be private."

Harry frowned. He didn't love it when his members called him by his first name, but it wasn't the end of the world. He'd always been warned about getting too close, too familiar. Friendly was good, but there was a line. However, he supposed just this once, and for Natalie, he could. She seemed to genuinely need him and his advice. So he relented and they sat in the living room while the dinner finished cooking in the oven.

“Fath… Harry,” Natalie said as she looked at Harry flustered, “I don’t know what to do about George. He keeps going away on these trips and I’m starting to wonder if there is something else going on.”

Harry listened to Natalie’s story. She had the feeling George was cheating on her but she had no proof. During dinner, Natalie set next to Harry and her demeanor changed. She was lighter and bubblier as the subject had shifted. Harry had given her some advice but he ultimately told Natalie that worrying over something without proof would take her eyes off God. That it did her soul no good to jump to conclusions. However, even as Harry said that he wondered himself about Mr. Brockton taking off on so many overnight trips.

After the plates were cleared and Natalie brought out a bottle of wine to share with Harry, they moved back into the living area and sat on the comfortable couch to continue their discussion. Harry had prayed with Natalie before they sipped their wine.

Natalie loved the way Harry's deep voice called to God when he spoke the prayer. The way his intense eyes would watch her as she spoke. His pink lips were kissable and his hair always looked so well-placed.

Harry was an attractive man. Many of the women in the congregation would gossip about how good-looking the priest was. Harry was tall, well-built, and gorgeous really. He was also smart and so well-behaved around all the women that it drove some of them crazy. Occasionally some would attempt to dress in a way that would attract him, and catch his eye, but it never worked. Harry was committed even if internally he was lusting.

But Mrs. Brockton, one time, had seen how Harry looked at her when she wore a particularly low-cut dress to Harry’s after he’d invited a small group over for prayer after Sunday mass. He would sometimes invite members of his congregation over for a drink and to pray after services. This wasn't too out of the ordinary.

After two glasses of wine, Harry was feeling a little loose, as he normally does under the influence. It hadn't been much wine, but he didn't need much as he usually refrained from drinking outside of these social settings. So a little was all it took.

This is when Mrs. Brockton noticed Harry's obvious gaze at her bosom. He even licked his lips and then looked down at his hands as he swallowed thickly. She saw it all. So she tested the waters and went to him before leaving with her husband.

"Will you send me off with a quick prayer, Father?" Her intentions were not pure, and Harry could feel it in the way she spoke, the way her eyes roamed his body, and the bite of her lip.

But he indulged her because denying her at that moment would raise more questions.

It was a fast little prayer. Mrs. Brockton grabbed Harry's hands in hers and as he prayed he felt her warm fingers gently move across the skin on his hands. It filled him with lust. Just the feel of her skin on his hand. When he opened his eyes, mid-prayer, a quick look, her breasts were in view again and they were delectable. Harry darted his gaze from her cleavage to her eyes and she was already looking at him with the smallest grin on her pretty face so Harry quickly shut his eyes and finished the prayer before sending everyone away.

That night was one of the rare times he masturbated. He'd grown hard in his pants as everyone was leaving and Mrs. Brockton made a show of swinging her hips and with the little hug she gave him on her way out of the door had her pressed against him and he felt lust in his heart.

He felt shame for it and he knew she saw him looking. He hated that his body wanted to have sex. Normally all of his lust would be reserved for his dreams He would wake from dreams where he'd be fucking men and women and coming. He'd dream of having soft lips sucking on his cock or he'd be doing the same. Or he'd wake to find that he wasn't in between a woman's legs licking over her soft parts. In his waking life, he got no action. But in his dreams, he was a sex maniac doing ungodly things.

He'd gone to counsel about his dreams and had been told they were only dreams and that the flesh was fighting the devil inside of him when he was asleep, but as long as he didn't act on it while he was conscious, he would be absolved. It also turned out that other men of the cloth who remained celibate were afflicted with the same type of dreams. Though, Harry knew that his were of a particular caliber, and quite taboo so he never told the clergy of the details.

But now here he sat in Mrs. Brockton's home with her husband gone and she was wearing something that rose up her thigh as she sat. Harry did his best not to notice how pretty she was or how good she smelled. His belly was full of her delicious cooking and now, on his second glass of wine, he began to feel that familiar buzz and he was getting loose. Comfortable.

Mrs. Brockton moved to sit directly next to Harry on the couch and put her hand on his knee. She'd seen how he was looking at her. And once again, her intentions were not pure. She knew Harry was a virgin. She wondered what he looked like under all the clothes he wore. He was slim and tall and seemed to be particularly buff in his chest region with a nice tight ass. She wanted a piece of him.

Harry closed his eyes when he felt Natalie's hand on his thigh, but she acted as if it was nothing while Harry was reeling inside, being the touch-starved virgin he was.

"So, that was the gist of the play we went to. I really think it would have been better if they'd cast Ramuel as Moses instead of Carter. I think Carter did a great job, but he's too young, don't you think?"

Harry was barely listening. He was just trying to work on keeping his boner down. Mrs. Brockton was beautiful and Harry was easy to rile up so her hand on his thigh was sending him. Harry didn’t normally put himself into precarious situations like this for a reason. He wasn’t sure how strong he actually was. He’d been wise all these years to stay away from circumstances that put him alone with someone he felt attracted to. But now, he was here with Mrs. Brockton and she was coming on to him, or so it seemed. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to resist her for much longer when his mind started to wander with all the possibilities.

Suddenly he stood up, "I should leave, Natalie. Thank you for the meal and I hope my advice was good."

Natalie stood quickly and grasped Harry's wrist, "Please. Finish your wine first, Harry. It's a really good bottle, expensive, and I would hate to dump the rest. I can't finish the bottle on my own," she stepped in closer looking up at the handsome man, hoping she could persuade him.

Harry sighed and nodded. He could finish his glass of wine as a way to be polite. But he really wanted to leave because he was already thickening in his pants, his imagination was taking him down the dark road toward his lustful, forbidden fantasies.

"Okay. I'll stay and finish my glass. I do need to use the bathroom, however."

The bathroom was in the hallway near the two bedrooms. Harry closed the door behind him and turned the faucet on to drown out the noise of what he was about to do.

He felt he had no choice. He couldn't be sitting in Mrs. Brockton's living room with an erection so he needed to take care of it. It wouldn't have been proper to be around her in the state he was in.

"Father forgive me..." Harry whispered under his breath as he pulled himself out of his pants and spit into his palm. He stroked himself gently and swiped over his tip before spitting down onto his penis again for better glide.

Harry kept one hand on the counter to brace himself as he held his cock in the other. His pants fell to the floor after a couple of minutes of pumping himself and the belt smacked into the tile with a clank.

He was nearly there, almost done when he heard a knock at the door then Natalie’s voice, "Are you okay, Harry? I heard something..." and then suddenly the door was opening, despite Harry having been sure he'd locked it.

Natalie stood in silence as she looked down at Harry's large, swollen cock with his fist wrapped around it. She knew that he had big hands for a reason - the better to hold that large thing with. She stepped in as Harry tried covering himself but it had been too late. She'd seen what he was doing.

"I'm so sorry, Natalie, I was..." but his words were cut off when she lowered her hand to him and put her palm over the stiff cock, and wrapped her fist as much as she could, around him.

"Don't be sorry. Please, Harry..." she dropped to her knees and kept her hand on his shaft as she looked up at him. Her free hand smoothed up his thigh, where she saw a forbidden tattoo. His thighs were well-muscled and thick. She moved her fist over Harry and looked back up at him.

"Please. Let me help. You need relief, Father," and with her eyes on his, she kissed the side of his thick shaft and Harry groaned and closed his eyes. He had been so close to orgasm and now he was suddenly caught in the haze of lust and sin. He knew it would be easy to just let her finish him off.

He was powerless to stop what was happening. It was a dream he'd had for so long to have someone sucking him off. His flesh won out at that moment. He’d never had that kind of opportunity present itself before and he was surprised by how quickly he gave in once her hand was on him. But it felt so good. Better than he realized it would.

And Natalie's mouth was soft and warm and wet and Harry came so fast - as he always did because he was hard up. She slurped his cock and drank him down when he came with a moan and he pressed the back of her head down over him on instinct.

Harry tried apologizing again. He dressed in haste but Natalie assured him he had nothing to worry about with her. He'd only need to ask forgiveness from God but his secret was safe with her as long as her secret was safe with him.

And this led to other, more intimate encounters with Mrs. Brockton. She and Harry had begun a small affair. She took his virginity and taught him how to eat, as she called it. Harry had deep guilt about what he'd done with a married member of his congregation but she seemed to love it. She would even beg him at times. He had a hard time resisting her once he’d gotten a taste.

Soon, Harry learned that he was quite dominant when it came to sex. Mrs. Brockton loved all of it. He'd fuck her in the rectory and the confessional, but usually, it happened in the privacy of his parsonage. He would gag her and bind her to keep her quiet and then have her tied down and spread out so he could fuck her in any way she could take it. Harry particularly got a taste for anal. Natalie had never had her bum fucked before Harry but he was slowly turning into a man who craved and fantasized about sex all the time and he played out some of his unusual kinks with Natalie.

He issued her spankings with his hand and occasionally his flog, which he also used as his punishment for carnal, sinful thoughts, now it was used to whip Mrs. Brockton. He couldn't do it often, though, because Mr. Brockton would have taken note of course.

Eventually, though, Mrs. Brockton wasn't enough. Harry's appetite for the carnal was something unshakable. He'd been introduced to sex in the flesh and not just in his dreams, and now he couldn't have it often enough and with Natalie being married she wasn't available as he needed.

He'd find himself going into Chicago or Milwaukee and meeting women and men at bars. He began experimenting with what he liked and he really liked just about everything. He loved pain and he loved to issue pain. Part of it was because of the guilt he felt and the pain was a way to ask for forgiveness, but eventually, Harry stopped feeling too bad about wanting to have sex. And after a year of exploring, he felt like all the time he’d resisted temptation had been such a waste now that he knew what it was like. Harry was a sexual being but still held onto his spirituality.

He enjoyed being a priest but he also enjoyed being a man who loved to fuck. Loving God and fucking were quite equal in his eyes and now he would not ever be without either. But continuing in his priesthood in this way must change eventually. Harry began to come up with a plan that could have him being a spiritual leader who could also have deranged sex when he pleased.

It took some more years before Harry's plan started to come to fruition. He remained a priest in small-town Wisconsin while he enjoyed his flesh most nights of the week. Once, he had a young woman stay in his parsonage in a small cage, which she did so willingly. Harry would come and go as needed but when he'd return to his parsonage he'd bring his little pet out and fuck her dumb and then put her back in her cage.

Of course, she had a job and she had taken off only a week of work so she could be imprisoned and degraded by the hot priest. So that didn't last because she had responsibilities. But Harry wished it could have lasted forever. He thought how nice it would be to find someone that would want to be his willing captive to cage. To have someone he could keep as his submissive pet and do with as he pleased. He obviously wanted the person to also enjoy the scenario with him, he wasn't a monster. But now it was his goal. To find someone who could be his and whom he could do with as he pleased. A submissive who would never want to leave him.

He'd tried it with various people. At first, they liked it. Some wanted it more than he did. But it was a matter of finding the right one. Someone who he could connect with and feel engaged with and vice versa. He had a young man with him for a few weeks (which was the longest stretch he'd had one person as his pet) but eventually Harry came to realize that he needed something else. Someone else. The young man was lovely and might have been a great submissive companion for years to come, but it wasn't quite it. So he continued his search for the perfect person.

One Sunday during service, Harry caught the eye of a beautiful woman. He immediately imagined her waiting for him in his cage, tied up, blindfolded, red swollen stripes over her back and her thighs from the flog... Someone to keep forever. He tried to push the feelings down as much as he could while he was in the middle of his prayer but she was incredibly alluring.

Many times he did find appealing men and women but after speaking to them for a bit realized they wouldn't be quite fit for the job. It took a very particular kind of person to do the things Harry required. So he intended on meeting this beautiful woman and chatting with her. Typically, he could tell rather quickly if they could be a candidate or not. Normally people were not. Most of the time he settled for a good evening of sex instead when he would have much preferred to have found his companion.

But Harry was also alluring. In fact, once he began having sex regularly more and more people would recognize how attractive and persuasive the priest could be. His confidence increased immeasurably once he began having sex. His charm was undeniable. The man was irresistible to many. But of course, being a priest, most did not know the dark secrets he had. He kept his escapades quiet. Mrs. Brockton knew that he was kinky but they’d long ago stopped their tryst and he could trust her to not say a word to anyone.

The young woman who he spotted during his prayer was near the end of the aisle toward the front and to Harry, it appeared she was alone. The woman took note of how the attractive priest kept looking her way. His light green eyes lingering in her direction, the way at one point after a bit of a gaze he smiled shyly and looked down and she could swear she saw him blush. But of course, Harry was acting. He was putting on a show for her. To draw her in.

And it worked. When the service was over, everyone flocked to Harry as they so often did. The young woman lingered and waited for the crowd to thin before she approached the priest who looked like a god.

Harry saw her coming toward him from his peripheral. He knew she'd come to him. So when he turned to her he acted surprised and flattered that the new girl was coming to greet him.

And she ate up his act, combined with the underlying sensual nature of the way he would lean in to speak and his voice would drop so that only she could hear, the way he'd touch his lips "innocently", and the way his eyes took her in as she spoke, roaming her face and her neck as if to size her up. She felt like the only person in the world at that moment. But he was still very priestly, Godly, at the same time.

Harry decided to take his time with this one. He wanted to invite her over right away for a drink to feel her out but he wanted to play up the godly priest as much as he could. It would be a real test when it came time to learn what she liked. Would his being a priest deter her? If so, she wasn't the one. But, if it only drew her in more, if she was more intrigued by his godliness and still wanted to explore with him then she could be a good fit.

Harry had plans that evening to join a family at their home for dinner. The Sothebys were quite wealthy and Harry very much enjoyed being invited for dinner. They had the most lavish meals with the best wine and bourbon. Harry never drank much but he did enjoy a vintage cabernet sauvignon from time to time, or an aged, smooth bourbon on the rocks.

Tonight’s dinner had been a special occasion, according to Mrs. Sotheby. They had their niece with them to visit from out of town for a while. Harry was given a glass of a cab and directed to sit in the parlor with Mr. Sotheby and his son for a chit-chat while the ladies finished dinner. Harry truly did care for all members of the parish. He loved them and his empathy and kindness toward them were evident. Everyone trusted Harry and he was the best listener. It’s what made him so good at being a priest. Not only did he love God and knew the word well, he understood humans and empathized as a sinner himself. He loved listening to his members and giving advice. He enjoyed praying for them and with them. Despite Harry’s dark secret, his heart was big and he was loving.

When everyone was ushered into the dining room to eat, Harry sat in the spot he normally took closest to the window where the sun would oftentimes be shining in, but on this day, the sky was overcast and there was a cool breeze coming in from the North. Winter was on its way.

Harry had finished his glass of wine as Mrs. Sotheby brought in a tray with Beef Wellington surrounded by roasted vegetables. It looked delicious and Harry was hungry for Mrs. Sotheby’s cooking. And he just knew she must have used prime beef tenderloin in the Wellington because the Sotheby’s did not skimp on the quality of ingredients for all the years he’d been dining with them.

“Father, you’re low on wine. Here, let’s get that taken care of…” Mrs. Sotheby spoke as she turned toward the kitchen, “Y/n!! Please bring that bottle of Caymus with you, hon!”

Nearly fifteen seconds later she was there. Harry’s fantasy girl. He saw her enter the dining room with a bottle of wine in one hand and a bowl of bearnaise in the other.

She didn’t look at him immediately but he knew she was aware of him. She must have been. This dinner was made with him in mind, and it was also welcome for her visit.

Harry remained stoic as he watched her place the bowl down near the large serving platter and then she looked up to let her eyes land on the priest’s. She smiled and he watched her take a deep breath as she rounded the table toward him, “Here, Father… let me top you off,” her sweet voice could almost be tasted. Harry watched her move as she lifted the bottle and poured the red liquid into his glass. Her neck was slender and her jaw was soft and feminine. Her hair was pinned back on the sides, which was different than how she wore it a couple of hours earlier at mass. Harry noted the slight natural blush over her cheeks and he thanked her when she placed the bottle down on the table.

Harry was pleased when she sat next to him. She didn’t speak much but ate her food and smiled throughout. Harry noted she only had one glass of wine and that she seemed a tiny bit nervous. He wondered if he should address her nervousness with her in private or not. He was searching for any excuse to speak to her alone.

Dinner was amazing. Harry had his tummy full and two glasses of wine during dinner and then afterward a glass of bourbon on the rocks as he normally did. The men sat in the parlor once again to chat and wind down as the women cleaned up. But Harry didn’t like this setup anymore. He enjoyed chatting with Mr. Sotheby and his son, but he wanted to see Y/n and assist in clean up, like the gentleman that he was.

“I think I’d like to help clean up the kitchen with the ladies if you don’t mind, gentleman,” Harry spoke as he got up from the cushy seat.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Sotheby and Y/n were giggling about something and wrapping the food when Harry entered. Y/n quickly turned to see him and her eyes widened when she looked at Mrs. Sotheby. Both women stopped what they were doing and looked at one another with a secret in their eyes.

“Father, what can I help you with?” Mrs. Sotheby rang out as she continued her task.

Harry strode into the room casually with the confidence of a man who knew what he was doing, “I’m here to help, ladies. Felt wrong to let you two do all the clean up when you’ve also cooked everything and made this dinner possible. The least I can do is help out.”

Harry began to roll up his sleeves as he walked toward the sink, intent on washing some dishes and assisting in the best way he could.

“That’s really not necessary, Father. We love having you join us. I know you always insist on helping but truly, I’ve got Y/n here with me now and I think you should enjoy your conversation with Hank.”

Harry looked toward Y/n and she was wrapping up the vegetables with a small, shy smile on her face as she looked down. Adorable, he thought. He began to rinse the dishes in the sink and turned to look at Mrs. Sotheby, “I knew you’d say that. But I’d rather serve than sit.” Harry loved using corny sayings like that. His congregation ate it up and they always thought of Harry as someone who loved telling a good dad joke here and there. And he did. He enjoyed his dual life and cherished both of his sides.

When the dishes were done and the kitchen was clean, Harry finished off his glass of bourbon and prayed with the family before leaving. He had everyone stand together in a small circle and hold hands, being sure to stand near Y/n. Her fingers were cold in his large palm but he cupped her hand in his securely, occasionally loosening and then tightening around her fingers.

The prayer was a quick one but the feel of Harry’s hand around Y/n’s had her heart pounding. Harry’s work there was done. He’d eaten a good meal, had plenty to drink which would put him right to sleep, got to watch sweet Y/n blush and listen to her speak on various topics from time to time, and got her a bit flustered as well even though he hadn’t really done much. She seemed to fit his type quite perfectly.

He would have much preferred to have brought her to his bed to play with her at the end of the night, but he knew he needed to suss her out first. She was, after all, a niece of someone wealthy in the congregation and he couldn’t just go off and fuck her and then invite her to be his submissive companion. The work of getting the right one was a slow, arduous process that couldn’t be rushed. Especially when it came to someone that might be attending his services. He’d like her as a pet immediately but he could be patient to be precise in his actions.

The following week at mass Y/n was there again. Harry was happy to see her pretty face amongst the congregation and she kept her eyes on him as he spoke. Harry used his incredible self-control to not look her way as often as he wanted. And his self-control was certainly a thing he used in many circumstances. He was, after all, a man who’d abstained from sex for 30 years and who barely allowed himself to masturbate. But now, he’d been having sex for nearly three years and he no longer abstained from it or masturbation. But his self-control was still incredible and so not looking toward Y/n was not that difficult.

Harry had wanted to reach out to her during the week, an excuse to talk to her under the guise of giving her advice or counsel if she chose. But he stopped himself during the few moments of weakness in his mind. It also helped that he had a woman in his parsonage with him for a few days the week after meeting Y/n. So he wasn’t hard up, but he did think of Y/n every day, which was not his norm. The woman was meant to stay longer but Harry dismissed her Sunday morning before mass. They’d had their fun together, but Harry was not interested any longer. He was interested in Y/n now.

When service had come to an end, Y/n left quickly, which put a frown on Harry’s face. He spoke with his members and prayed with them as he always did and when he was invited to dinner with the Fortanels, he declined this time. He wanted to find Y/n and perhaps have a moment with her. He would never get anywhere with figuring out anything about her if he didn’t try to have contact with her.

So he did what any man would do who wanted to get to know a woman he was interested in, he called her. Not her directly, but he dialed the Sotheby’s number and asked to speak with Y/n when Mr. Sotheby answered the call, “Hi. It’s Father Harry here. I just wanted to see if I could speak with Y/n for a moment. I felt something in my heart that needed to be said to her today and I couldn’t find her after mass this afternoon.”

When Y/n spoke into the receiver Harry couldn’t stop his smile from taking over. He told her something he made up as his reason for the call and asked her if she’d like to join him the following evening for a small prayer group that he held on Mondays in his parsonage. Of course, Y/n was quick to say yes. She was intrigued by the handsome priest.

That evening, Harry didn’t have one of his regulars come over for a night in his bed as he normally would. He resorted to what many single people do, masturbation. He thought of Y/n’s smooth skin and her lips, her big round eyes, and her shy demeanor. On the very surface she seemed like a good candidate, but how could he know if she truly would fit into Harry’s world the way he wanted until he got to know her better?

Before the prayer meeting, where there would only be three others in attendance, Harry set up his room, put away his flog and ties, covered the cage, and locked his bedroom door for good measure. Then he set up the living space where everyone would sit, knowing that two of those coming were a couple and would sit next to one another, which meant Y/n would inevitably be sitting next to Harry. He readied coffee and pulled out two bottles of wine and lit a candle. It was his typical setup. Harry’s home was very plain. He didn’t have many things to clutter the space. Only a few pictures of his family from London and one or two knick-knacks that had been given to him over the years. His wooden floors had a large carpet covering the center and the furniture he used had been there when he moved in.

Y/n arrived first. Harry had a feeling she would. She was shy and smiley and polite off the bat. Harry ushered her in and gently put his hand on her low back, just the slightest touch. He didn’t want to seem like a creep. But with the way she blushed, he knew she liked it. She accepted a glass of wine and sat in one of the chairs Harry had put in the circle.

“Is there anything you’d like to speak with me about one-on-one before the other two arrive, Y/n?” Harry tilted his head and looked at the young woman with his own glass of wine in hand as he sat next to her.

“Oh, well, I think I would like to talk about something. Um…” but before she could continue there was a knock at the door to indicate the others had arrived. Harry gave her a disappointed look, “Stay after the meeting with me and we can talk about it then,” he spoke as he got up to open the door for the new arrivals.

Everyone had their fill of coffee and wine during the hour-long prayer meeting. Half of the time was taken up by Arthur speaking about his concern for the state of the world. Usually, the prayer meetings would include discussion and then prayer based on what was discussed, this time was the same. Y/n barely spoke but Harry could sense her eyes on him for most of the meeting. They sat next to one another in the small little circle and when they ended with prayer Harry took her hand in his and like the time before when he’d held her hand in prayer, he loosened and tightened his grip around her hand slowly, like a comforting squeeze. But when Y/n suddenly squeezed his hand back Harry smiled to himself as he continued speaking his prayer. Her squeeze was not subtle, and neither was the way she used her thumb to gently drag it along the inside of his palm.

When the couple left, finally, Harry and Y/n sat back in their respective spots next to one another and Harry prompted her to continue where she left off earlier.

Y/n’s cheeks were wine flushed, but she was not drunk, just cozy and warm. She licked her lips and sat up straight as if she was called on in school to answer the question in front of the class. She wiggled her bottom in her seat and cleared her throat, “I have been thinking of going to confession but I haven’t made it yet because it’s so hard to admit sometimes when I’m in sin. I’m here with my aunt and uncle because of things I did back home. Things I was interested in and it’s awful and embarrassing but I’m hoping here I can become new again and move on from my old ways.”

Harry rolled his lips into his mouth and squinted at Y/n as she spoke. He didn’t know of her past, “Tell me, dear. What have you done? You can skip going to the confessional if you do it here with me. It’s the same really. I’d be the one listening to your sins anyway. I won’t judge you. That’s not for me to do.

He was very curious as to what she’d done that led her to move in with her aunt and uncle temporarily and get away from her hometown. She was an adult who could have made her own choices and gone to any town, but she chose to come here to get away from whatever it was she’d done.

Y/n laughed and looked at her lap where her hands were clasped together before she lifted her head to put her gaze on the priest, “Sexual sin. I’ve had sex and I know I should wait for marriage, but it’s so hard because it feels so good. It feels like God wants us to have sex often, he made us to enjoy it, right? And that’s my problem. I just like it and I don’t feel as guilty about it as I should,” she looked back down and bit her lip. Her cheeks were especially pink now. From embarrassment or shame.

Harry was very interested. The girl was into sex and admittedly so. But who wasn’t really? Most of his congregation came to him for sins of lust when it came time to confess. There were hardly any virgins amongst his members, not even the ones who were single and publicly claimed to be.

“Your feelings are normal, dear. Sex is a very important part of how we express love and pleasure and it’s hard to deny ourselves of the flesh at times. We are all guilty of the sin of lust. Most humans are not free of that burden,” Harry kept his eyes on the girl and watched as she shook her head. She turned to look up at Harry again.

“Well, yes, Father. That’s true. But my problem is deeper I think. It’s not just the sin of lust and premarital sex, it’s sexual deviancy,” she whispered the word deviancy like it was a bad word, “I like things most people do not and it’s frowned upon, especially as a Christian. It’s part of why I moved here. I was found out,” she wrung her hands together in her lap and closed her eyes and sighed before she opened them back up to continue, “I was caught with a married man. He’d left me tied to his bed thinking his wife was going to be gone for the day. But she returned while I was there on her bed and now I’m here. Trying to be better.”

Harry was silent. He didn’t know how to respond to this beautiful young woman admitting to him the things she just had. And so openly. He wanted to ask her more about what she liked but felt that would be too much too soon. Inappropriate in fact. But he was bursting to know.

“I see. Look, we all have things that are hidden and dark. We do our best to deal with them in the kindest way we can in this life. The best thing you can do is to be kind to yourself. Don’t doubt you’re a wonderful person just because you have a preference for certain things,” Harry put his hand on her shoulder to emphasize his words. And he meant them. He always felt humans were too hard on themselves when it came to sins of lust and sex. He obviously had a soft spot for those who had lustful sin.

He watched Y/n as she leaned her head to the side toward where Harry’s hand was placed on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and stretched her neck toward his hand but then opened her eyes and looked at the priest, “Thank you, Father. That makes me feel so much better. It’s worse really, than just what I said but I’m too embarrassed to tell you more. I’m sure you’d cast me out like the devil if you knew,” she laughed and smiled at the man. His clear, bright eyes were on hers intently and they were beautiful. His smile revealed dimples on his cheeks and the bit of scruff on his face was so attractive that Y/n forced herself to not imagine what it would feel like being scraped against her face, or in between her thighs.

Harry noted how her gaze lingered on his. The way she looked at his mouth and how she looked desperate a little. The poor thing was probably trying to be good but deep down she just wanted to be bad. But to Harry, she was beginning to fill in all the little boxes he needed to have checked in order to find the right one. He couldn’t know for sure just yet, but he’d continue to find out more about her and make a determination soon. He just needed more time. He wanted to do this right.

Before she left they had agreed upon a schedule for Harry to counsel her and pray with her for her sins. They’d meet together every other day in his parsonage for as long as she needed. Which was just perfect for Harry. He’d get to look at the cute thing as she confessed her dark deeds to him and he’d lead her in prayer and with guidance. And Harry knew she found him attractive. Most people did really, but with Y/n, it excited him in a way he hadn’t been excited about in a long time.

At their first one-on-one meeting, Y/n had withdrawn a bit into herself. She seemed down and gave the priest very little information like she had the first night after their prayer meeting. He wondered if the wine had been a factor in the way she so honestly expressed herself that night. He’d need to work on that with her. Relying on alcohol as a way to feel more expressive and comfortable was worse to Harry than it was to have sex outside of marriage.

He still gave her gentle advice, prayed with her, and kissed her forehead before she left. He could tell she was struggling. But he could see how she was looking at him when he’d speak, how she kept crossing her legs and would squeeze her thighs tightly together, her flushed cheeks, and that was all he needed to know that she was aching for relief. Perhaps she was so overwhelmed with need and lust that she was pushing herself to close up. Which was probably a normal reaction. Harry had gone through the same when he first fought with himself to stop his sudden need to have sex. He would be patient with her.

In their following meeting, Harry was armed with a bit more information. After she left their one-on-one meeting he decided to search for her on social media. She had a pretty decent presence online. She was popular, had a lot of friends back home, and seemed like a normal young woman as far as he could tell. But then the further he dug he found some people who had mentioned her in their posts. Particularly one woman who seemed to greatly dislike her.

He came to find out that the man that Y/n had been caught with was this woman’s husband. She dragged Y/n and exposed her secrets in detail online. According to the woman, her husband had been seduced, and then he tied her to the bed as he left to go get help which is when the wife arrived home, as the man was out “getting help”. He learned that Y/n was completely naked in their bed where she was tied at the wrists and ankles. She had marks over her thighs, her stomach, and her back, likely from being spanked, but the wife posed that Y/n had done it to herself as a way to make everyone feel sorry for her.

This said a few things to Harry. First, was that he believed Y/n and that when she said she’d been seeing the man it was likely not the first time they’d been together, nor the first time she’d been tied to his bed and spanked. And with the man having gone to “get help” it was more likely part of their play and he was leaving her as punishment. Y/n liked to be punished.

Harry was thankful for social media but he was also angry that her secrets had been exposed in such a heartless way. Of course, the woman thought that her husband was totally innocent, but that’s Christian society for you in a nutshell, putting all the blame on the woman and absolving the man. Harry tried to lead his congregation in a way that allowed for empathy and love no matter what. He would have been pissed at any of his followers if they had ousted a fellow member in this way.

Y/n was quiet at first when she arrived at their second one-on-one meeting. But her face looked brighter this time and she seemed to be more talkative after a little bit of Harry nudging her in the right direction. He wouldn’t tell her about what he knew. He hoped that she’d tell him in her own time, though. And she did. Not at that meeting but the following week she’d poured her soul out to him.

Of course, it didn’t just happen that she handed the priest all of this information out of the blue. The lead-up during their meetings had given her the boost she needed to tell him of all her sins.

There were a lot of longing gazes from Y/n’s end and Harry would give her soft touches and sly grins. Harry would allow himself to work his eyes down over her face and to her neck as she spoke, purposely letting her see how he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He’d rub her shoulders and speak quietly into her ear even though it was just the two of them in the living area of his parsonage. He admitted to her how he would sometimes wake from dreams of feeling lust and the need to repent himself. He brought up his flog even to see her reaction and react she did.

When he described to her how some mornings he’d wake from a sexual dream he’d flog himself to calm his nerves and he watched as her breathing picked up. She watched his lips as he spoke and he’d often catch her drifting her gaze downward towards his lap. He knew she wanted more from him but she’d never attempt it with the holy priest. Which was precisely what he hoped. He needed her to first see him as a leader and a holy man. He’d soon reveal his other persona when the time was right. If it was ever right.

So, on the day that she finally broke down and told him all of her sins it was like a weight was lifted from her. She paused between breaths and composed herself as she spoke but she got everything out and Harry couldn’t have been more enamored. She was perfect.

“I was accused of seducing that man, Tom, and then his excuse for tying me there was to stop me from tempting him while he went to get help. Which is ridiculous because look at me, I’m no match for any grown man. He didn’t need help,” she sighed and laughed in a scoff, “You see, he’d left me there so he could go run an errand. We had a thing where he’d tie me up and leave me after punishment, like spanking me and smacking me, and well, anyway… I like that sort of thing. I like being punished and worse really. It’s embarrassing when I’m speaking to you like this but I feel good to be able to say it out loud.”

She continued and Harry watched her as he took his forefinger and lightly rubbed it over his lips, up and down. He purposely gazed at her and allowed his features to soften over her face and she noticed the way he was looking at her. She would pause frequently when she took note of the look of hunger on his face but would shake her head as if to tell herself to snap out of it.

“He told everyone that I’d beat myself. My bottom, my back, thighs, everything. But he did it. No one believed me. It’s crazy that he tied me to his bed while I was naked with large handprints all over my body and a tie over my eyes so I couldn’t see and yet, people thought he not only didn’t put his hands on me but that he tied me to the bed with my legs spread apart with his sperm literally dripping from me in order to go get help,” her laugh was unamused. “They all believed him. They thought I beat myself and stripped nude and masturbated in his bed and that he had to tie me down with my legs open and put something on my eyes as a way to restrain me.”

But she didn’t stop her confession, “And I’ve done that before with others too. I like it. Being captive, being punished. I don’t know why I like it; I just do. Makes me feel so vulnerable and needed. Like I’m so wanted that they keep me tied down so I can’t leave. I know I shouldn’t like that or want something like that. It’s awful. It probably sounds like I’m completely deranged. I guess I am a little. But I do feel better after talking with you this past week. You’ve helped me a lot Father, and I’m glad I met you.”

Harry was willing away his erection. He’d abstained from having sex since he’d started these little sessions with Y/n. Not from masturbating, but from sex with others. And he was feeling excited at her full confession. She could be just what he needed. He could be just what she needed.

“Thank you for being so honest and open with me, Y/n. This is a step in the right direction. What we say to one another here will remain between just us. Won’t it?” Harry lifted his brows as he moved her hair from off her shoulder to behind her ear. She stiffened at his touch and her mouth parted for a moment before she nodded at the priest.

“Good. We are all sinners, dear. There’s not one of us better than the other,” Harry kept his voice low as he spoke.

Y/n smiled and spoke, “Well, except you, Father. You’re a holy man and better than anyone I’ve ever met. I can just feel it all around. You exude love and compassion. You listen so closely to everyone and you remember everything about them. You’re such a good soul with a wonderful heart. I can only hope to be like you one day.”

Harry nodded with a grin, “You are like me already, Y/n. You don’t know everything about me. I’m a human man. I am still a sinner and that’s what makes me so compassionate toward others. Because we are all in this world struggling to do what is right. Some of us have a worse time with sin than others. Sometimes you might be surprised at what kinds of sin a priest might have hidden.” Harry watched her face closely. Her gaze on him still indicated longing and need. She was very attracted to him, and Harry knew it. He could have probably taken her then to his bedroom and done very awful and wonderful things to her and made her his at last. But he refrained. He had to follow his plan accordingly. She was so close to being a perfect fit for him. He just needed to be sure she was the one.

The day of the following meeting was chilly and windy and cold. A winter storm seemed to be coming in and Harry had considered telling Y/n to stay home but before he had the chance to call the Sotheby’s she was already at his door, bundled up in her winter coat with a scarf around her neck and a wool cap on her head. Her nose was red and she wasn’t wearing gloves. Harry pulled her in and the wind from outside wafted into his warm parsonage. Harry hadn’t prepared for her quite yet, as it was about an hour before she was due to arrive. He had a few things strewn about, nothing crazy but he always liked to tidy before he had guests.

He closed the door behind her and stood in front of her to begin unwrapping her scarf from her neck in silence. She looked up at him with her big, sweet eyes and Harry looked down at her while he pulled the scarf off, a grin on his face. She just stood and smiled back up at him as he undid her coat, and pulled it off her shoulders, hanging it by the door on the coat hook. She stayed quiet watching him. He found it a little odd but he didn’t mind the new interaction. It’s how he’d want to treat her if she were his. He’d help her undress and take care of her. She liked it too he could tell.

Harry looked down to see she hadn’t worn gloves so he took her hands into his and rubbed over them before putting his mouth to his hands cupped around hers and blew warm air over her fingers. She sighed and smiled up at him. That smile was going to kill him. He repeated blowing warm air over her hands a few times until his lips met her fingertips and he pressed the tiniest kiss to the pads of the fingers under his mouth then he laughed a breath through his nose and plucked the wool cap from her head, “There you go. Feel better? Want me to make you some tea?”

Harry saw it written all over her face. She didn’t want tea, or anything to drink. She didn’t want him to be nice to her. She wanted something she was too scared to ask for but she smiled and nodded because of her naturally submissive manner, “Yeah. Hot tea could be nice, Father.”

Harry smirked down at the lovely girl and smoothed her hair a bit. It had gotten staticky from the way he’d pulled the cap from her head. She laughed shyly when she realized what he was doing and then she followed him to his kitchen.

When they passed into the kitchen Harry realized he hadn’t closed the door to his bedroom since he hadn’t been prepared for her yet. There wasn’t anything too revealing lying out, except his flog at the end of the bed, but he wasn’t sure if she’d seen it or not.

He made tea and they sat in the little kitchen together and made small talk.

“You arrived early. I hadn’t expected you to come yet,” Harry said as he looked down at his mug and then back up at the beautiful young woman.

Y/n nodded, “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to miss the chance of coming by for a bit. The weather channel made it seem like the storm would be very bad and I wondered if I waited too long I might not have been able to come here at all. Sorry.”

Harry reached a hand out to place over Y/n’s and tsk’d at her, “Don’t be sorry, dear. I’m happy you came. I was going to call you and cancel because it does look like a bad one coming. It’s already started to snow,” he looked over her shoulder and out the window where white snow was blowing wild in the air with the wind.

One tea turned into two and then Y/n asked Harry if they could pray together, “I’m feeling very particular today. It’s a hard day for me. I’ve been trying to keep my thoughts on God and do what I know is right but I can’t seem to get it straight in my mind. My sinful thoughts are very strong today.”

“That’s good that you told me. We all have hard days. It’s better to be honest about everything than it is to hide it. Hiding it only makes the longing worse,” Harry wanted to stop the façade himself. His longing was getting worse as well. And now that she was here with him alone, the ominous storm approaching, and his neglected cock that he hadn’t had a chance to take care of before she arrived (another thing he hadn’t gotten to due to her early arrival, something he always took care of before she came), he wanted to take care of both of their needs, their longings.

“Is it a hard day for you, Father? I saw the flog on your bed when we passed your room. You told me before how you use it to atone for your sinful thoughts,” she bit her lip after asking and looked at him with round eyes.

Harry nodded with a smile, “You saw that then. Yes. Today is a hard day. And every day before this one as well,” was all he gave her.

Harry took her hands in his and they prayed, bowing their heads over the small table. And like every other time they held hands in prayer, they gently touched and squeezed at the other, a silent bid for something more that had gone unspoken. But it was never quite enough for Y/n to believe it meant more than just a man being kind and loving.

When they released their hands Y/n felt lighter again. She loved it when Harry prayed. It was like he helped wipe her sins away with his words and encouragement. But she wondered if there was more that could be done.

“Father Harry?” She asked with his eyes already on hers. He nodded at her to continue, “Yes?”

She swallowed and looked out of the kitchen toward where his bedroom was, “What is it like to be whipped with the flog? Do you feel atoned when you’re done? Does it feel like the pain takes away your sins?”

Harry’s heartbeat was rapid. There was a definite shift in the way Y/n was today than she had been at any of the other meetings. It was very subtle but she was different today. Needy.

Harry clenched his jaw and looked over his shoulder toward his room and then back to Y/n, “Sometimes it does feel like it helps me repent. But other times it's part of the sin.”

Y/n was silent as she took his words in. She cocked her head to the side and squished her brows together in confusion, “Part of the sin? What does that mean?”

Harry took a deep breath and reached a hand out to take one of Y/n’s in his. He looked down at her hand with a faint smile on his face before looking back into her pretty eyes, “It means sometimes it has nothing to do with atonement or being repentant. Sometimes I enjoy the pain.”

Y/n watched as Harry grazed his thumb over her knuckles and spoke without looking back into Harry’s eyes, “Would you… maybe flog me? Show me what it feels like? Maybe it can help me feel better about my sinful nature.”

Harry looked out the window and he couldn’t see beyond the white flurries. The wind was harsh and he could hear the whistle of the gale as it forced its way into the cracks of the glass panes. He put his eyes back on Y/n and she was still looking down at where her hand was in his.

“That would require you to remove some clothes. I don’t know that you’d feel comfortable with that in front of me,” Harry was getting heated. He was imagining the way the whip would bite into her skin. Not too hard, but just enough that she could really feel it and it would leave a mark. Or two. Or three.

Y/n shot her eyes up to Harry’s and nodded, “I would be okay with that. Would you?

Harry smiled, wider than he intended. This was exactly what he wanted. This was a step toward what he’d felt was necessary for his plan. She was asking him.

Her pupils were blown out in her eyes already, and her mouth parted. She wanted to be flogged but not to atone for her sins. She liked it and he knew she would. She also understood the probable implications of her request after she’d already admitted to him how much she enjoyed a bit of pain, spankings, and punishment. But she couldn’t help herself. And she could play it off as if she only meant to use it as a way to repent if he declined or called her out.

But Harry wouldn’t call her out. He would go along with her in this as long as she wanted. They could both easily play it off, yet they both would understand what was actually going on. It would be a way to ease into what was coming. Harry was quite pleased.

“Okay, my dear. If that is what you want. We’ll go to my room. I have a set up for you to hold onto while I flog your back for repentance.”

Y/n hadn’t expected Harry’s room to be livelier than the rest of the house. His bedroom revealed more of his personality than the rest of the parsonage did. The set-up Harry referred to was a bar hung from the ceiling with cuffs at each end. There was art hung on the walls, a bookshelf stuffed with books, a dresser with jars atop, and a lamp. His bed was large and looked comfortable. And of course, in the corner of the room was a large item covered with a sheet that went nearly to the ceiling and was probably eight feet wide and eight feet long.

“What is that, Father?” Y/n pointed toward the covered item in the corner and walked toward it.

Harry stopped her midway, “That’s just something I use for a hobby of mine. Let’s get to it shall we?” He redirected her away from the cage that had gone unused for longer than Harry liked.

Harry took the flog in his hand and turned to Y/n, “You’ll need to take your sweater and anything underneath off for this. You can face away from me so I don’t see anything if you’re more comfortable with that. And you can decide if you want your hands in the cuffs to restrain you, or if you’d just like to hold onto them. While you remove your sweater, I’m going to clean this,” and he left the room to sanitize the flog. He had used it on himself only that morning and even though he didn’t cut himself deep enough to bleed, he still found it necessary to clean before using it on Y/n.

Harry took his time to get into the smooth leather and wipe all around the parts with warm soapy water. Then he used alcohol wipes over the flog to finish it off. And before he entered the room he took a moment to breathe and calm himself. He was half hard in his pants with the images that ran through his brain. When he felt somewhat settled he returned to the room to see Y/n with her hand over her breasts facing him.

Harry couldn’t help himself from trailing his eyes down her frame and over her skin and to the swell of her soft breasts which she’d hidden only partly from his view. When he looked back at her face he realized she looked happy and excited even. He swallowed heavily as he walked toward her.

“Wrists in the cuffs or just holding onto them?” He asked her as he put the flog down on his bed.

“I’d like them inside the cuffs. Please,” she smiled and Harry nodded. He had a feeling she’d want to be properly restrained.

Harry closed his eyes at the, please. He was going to have to restrain himself from ravishing her. Because he knew she wanted that. He knew she’d beg him and want whatever he gave her. He swallowed again before walking toward her where she stood near the bar.

“I won’t look, but I have to assist you in putting your wrists in here. Lift up.”

Y/n removed her palms from over her breasts and raised them toward the bar. Harry concentrated on not looking down as he secured her wrists in place. Self-control was something he was not rivaled in. As much as he desired to look down over her skin and peek at her nipples and soft breasts his will to control himself was stronger. He had a presence to maintain.

“Father, why do you have this in your bedroom if you are unable to use it without assistance?” Y/n’s voice was small and cautious. She didn’t want to overstep any boundaries but she was too curious to not ask. Harry knew she would.

Harry smirked and looked at her in the eyes, doing well to not drop his gaze to her tits, “For just this very purpose, Y/n. Sometimes others request a flogging too. I help them.”

Both of Y/n’s wrists were secured in the cuffs after Harry’s careful adjustments of the Velcro. She was bare on the top, wearing only jeans on her bottom half. Harry slowly walked behind Y/n and picked up the flog from his bed. The flog he used was black and thin with a single leather strip, knotted at the end. The handle was braided leather, perfect for gripping onto.

Her back was smooth and clear. So pretty, it was almost a shame that she wanted it marked up. Almost. Harry gulped down his saliva and before he could begin he stepped in close to Y/n and stood behind her, craning his neck down to speak near to her ear.

“This will hurt a bit. I won’t break the skin but it’s going to bruise and feel very tender. Tell me to stop if it’s too much for you,” he could smell her shampoo from this proximity. She turned her head to the side towards his face and nodded. He could tell her breathing had deepened. He gently swept her hair from her back and pushed it over her shoulder to the front so that her back was unobstructed. He kept close to her, looking down at her neck as he did so, his fingers ghosting over her neck.

Harry stepped back and looked up at the ceiling, “Speak with me a prayer of forgiveness, Y/n,” he closed his eyes and waited a moment before beginning, “Lord God, please look at my sins and mistakes with a merciful eye and forgive me.”

Y/n repeated the words and Harry landed the flog onto her back for the first time, a strike that caused her to inhale a sharp gasp and squeeze her eyes closed. It shocked her system and her body jolted forward. She gasped for air as soon as the sensation dulled on her flesh and turned into a hot sting across her back.

Harry continued, “I confess to you Almighty God that I have sinned.”

Y/n spoke the words and braced herself for the next stripe to her back. It came from the opposite shoulder this time, and downward toward her spine. She grunted and fell forward, her nails digging into her palms, as she endured her second hit.

“My mortal sin is that of lust. My flesh has been weak and I have given in to temptation.”

Her words were spoken in a softer voice, but still clear and with determination. Harry smiled as he issued her another strike. Once again, Y/n was swung forward, her head dropping downward and she gasped in a small yelp, clenching her jaw when the new lash crossed the middle of her back.

Harry watched as her smooth skin turned red, a raised welt left in the path of the leather. As promised, he did not break the skin, but it was tender and it was going to be sore.

“For this sin and all sins that I have committed in my life, I am seeking repentance.”

Y/n’s voice came out shaky. Harry watched as her arms quivered as she tried holding herself up. It had only been three strikes and she was already quite fatigued; he could tell. Harry repeated raising the flog and bringing it down in a quick motion over the center of her back near her spine.

This time Y/n crossed her legs together and gasped in a breathy pitch as she put most of her weight on her arms and wobbled forward slightly. Harry couldn’t see her breasts but he knew the sight would have been glorious.

Harry wondered if it was too much. He watched her body for a moment as she regained her composure, “Y/n, are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

She was quick to shake her head, “No, Father. Let’s finish the prayer. Please. I need it.”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. There it was again, the, please. He enjoyed this. He imagined how it felt on her skin, he knew the sting and burn well. He could almost taste it in his mouth, the pain of the lashings. And it was a good taste. He bit down and clenched his jaw in satisfaction with the moment.

“Count these stripes as my penance, oh Lord God, you who are all good and deserving of my love and devotion.”

It took a moment for Y/n to repeat the words but when she did Harry realized it then. It was in her breathy voice, the way her back was arched and ready for the next hit, and how she crossed her legs with the last lashing, still squeezed together, thighs clenched.

With a smile, Harry brought the leather down onto her flesh again and to his delight, the sound that left Y/n’s mouth was a moan. A sound typically dedicated to the result of something pleasurable happening.

“I resolve with the help of your grace to keep my eyes on you, Holy Father. Amen.”

Harry listened to the way Y/n spoke her words in a slow breathy voice. Her neck was draped downward and her arm muscles were straining against her weight. She was enjoying this. Perhaps in the same way Harry did.

The sixth and final lash on her back drew a louder moan out of her mouth. After she shifted forward she lulled her head to the side and Harry could see her mouth was open. Her breaths were labored, heavy.

Harry put the flog down and stood behind Y/n, gently placing his hands on the back of her ribs, “Y/n, no more lashings. Now listen to my words of forgiveness and then you’ll say for his mercy endures forever.”

She nodded and hummed and pushed herself up to stand fully on her feet. Harry kept his hands lightly on her back and looked down at her neck, as he spoke his absolution in a voice barely above a whisper, “Give thanks to the Lord for he is good.”

“For his mercy endures forever,” her voice was surer now, still breathy but less shaky.

Harry was tempted to dip his mouth down onto the curve of her neck and press his lips on the small freckle that he saw under her jaw. She still had her neck bared to him, her head hung to the side and Harry wondered if she was doing it on purpose, exposing her neck to him. Offering herself to him in a way. He would need her to verbalize it if so.

Harry leaned down, his hands ghosting down her sides as he put his face closer to her neck but he didn’t allow his lips to touch her skin, “You did very good, Y/n. I’m going to release you now.”

Harry removed each wrist and stayed in his spot behind her. He remained close and Y/n made no attempt to move from her spot. She turned her head to the side and Harry could see her profile, blinking, a smile on her face. If she turned further she’d be able to see his face but there was the chance that her breasts would be in view.

“Thank you, Father,” Y/n spoke in a soft whisper as she lifted her hands to cover her breasts and turned her head to look at him from over her shoulder.

Harry didn’t move from his spot as he looked over her face slowly. He didn’t let his gaze drop below her shoulders. She wasn’t his to ogle. Not yet anyway. But he could recognize that she was beautiful. And perfect.

“Stay right here. I’m going to get something for your back,” Harry was quick to get what was needed for Y/n’s welts. A warm, damp cloth and some ointment.

When he came back into the room, Y/n was still standing exactly where he left her, “Lie down on the bed on your stomach and I’ll help you with this.”

Harry approached her as she arranged herself on his bed, tummy down. Harry was already anticipating the moment he could rinse her back and then rub the cream over her. He’d touched her gently while she was restrained, but now he would be permitted to put his hand into complete contact with her skin, to really touch her and take care of her wounds.

Y/n put her arms upward, elbows bent, and her face to the side so her cheek was down and she could see Harry behind her from the peripheral. He kneeled on the bed next to her and gently placed the warm rag over her back to soothe the burn, “Are you okay? How do you feel, Y/n?”

Y/n took a deep breath and closed her eyes when Harry began to blot the damp rag down her back, “I feel very good, Father,” her voice was still breathy and soft.

Harry hummed in response with a nod to himself as he continued gently dabbing the rage over her back. When it was time to put the ointment over her he rubbed it into his palms to warm it, as he noticed she had goosebumps over her flesh.

His wide palms slowly caressed her back and smoothed the cream over her sores. He watched as Y/n bit her lip, her eyes still closed. Harry smiled. He used both hands to knead gently down her spine and apply the ointment. It took longer than it should have but Harry enjoyed the way her skin felt under his hands. She was soft and open for him. So willing and sweet.

“You did very well, Y/n. I think this looks good,” he spoke with his palms still flat on her low back, “I’ll leave you to put your sweater on, I can tell you’re cold.”

Harry stood from the bed with the rag and the jar of cream when Y/n pushed herself up and turned her head, “Wait, Father. I need to confess one more thing.”

Harry stopped his motions and turned to see her. Her top half was still hidden, breasts down into the comforter below her. He ticked his chin downward to indicate for her to continue.

“I… really liked that. More than I should. I feel bad because it didn’t mean to me what it was meant to mean. It’s my sin. I can’t control it. I’m sorry, Father,” she looked down at her forearm that was holding her up and Harry could see how red and bitten her lips looked. The delicate thing. She was a lot like him. The flogging was both a penance and a guilty pleasure.

“I understand. I sometimes see it the same way, Y/n. Your pain still acts as penance. Even if you somehow enjoy it. We can talk about this when you’ve dressed. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, though,” Harry turned and left the room. He was nearly quivering at what had just happened. He was keyed up from not only flogging the beautiful young woman but all of her admissions to him about what she liked and what she felt was her sin. The girl couldn’t be more perfect for him.

Harry put on another pot of tea and took note of the storm outside. The snow had piled against the parsonage and the wind bellowed outside. It would be too dangerous for her to walk or be driven back to the Sotheby’s in this weather. A fact that he quietly delighted in.

Y/n stepped into the kitchen behind Harry and leaned against the counter to watch him with the tea setup. The two did not speak for a few moments, both lost in their own minds about the reality they were suddenly in. Y/n having been honest with the priest about her sins and the priest reeling over the similarities of their preferences.

Harry turned to look at the pretty girl standing next to him, “You will likely need to stay until the storm subsides,” he looked past Y/n out the window that was on the opposite wall, “perhaps even all night.”

She turned to look out the window and Harry saw a smile crawl onto her face. His own expression was similar, pleased, expectant.

They took tea in his living room and the only sounds that could be heard were the gale winds outside. Y/n looked at Harry, her eyes wide and curious. When Harry looked up at her after a sip of his hot tea he felt he could understand her without a word being spoken.

“Tell me what your thoughts are, Y/n,” he set the teacup down and leaned back into the couch, his hands in his lap.

Y/n breathed out a small laugh and looked down at her lap. She was on the same couch as Harry but separated by a cushion between them.

With her head down she began to speak, “I feel very happy with you, safe. I don’t feel judged or looked down upon,” she lifted her head to look up at the man, his light green eyes taking her in, listening intently as always.

Harry nodded and stayed silent. He wanted her to continue.

Y/n swallowed and fiddled with her fingers, “Thank you for that, Father,” she leaned forward and took a sip of her tea, before leaning back into the couch and cupping the mug into her hands to keep them warm.

She continued, “I’m sure you cannot relate to having lustful thoughts in your heart like me. But I do wonder, what are your sinful thoughts that you feel are so hard that you flog yourself to repent? You said today was a hard day for you.”

Harry let the side of his mouth quirk up in a smile as he looked down. She was a curious girl.

“I’m a man, Y/n. I have lustful thoughts in my heart as most humans do. God has created us to procreate and he made sex feel very good,” Harry was sure to emphasize the words feel very good, “for a reason. It’s in the worst of people and the holiest of us.”

There was a moment of quiet when the wind changed direction and Harry watched Y/n move on her cushion as she tucked a foot under her bottom and turned toward him, “What was hard for you today, Father? The sin you had to atone for.”

Harry’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and he took a breath, “Lust.”

Harry’s eyes were severe on Y/n’s and he watched her lips part softly and her eyes soften, “Really? I imagine it must be very hard being a priest with your vows and all. Have you ever had a relationship, Father?”

Harry flattened his lips and squinted at the girl. Before he could respond Y/n spoke quickly, “I’m sorry! You don't have to answer. I’m sometimes too curious for my own good and you’re so interesting to me. Don’t answer if it’s too much.”

Harry chuckled and sipped his tea, slowly placing it down on the table next to the couch before putting his eyes back on the pretty girl, “I have had relationships, yes. It isn’t against the priesthood per se. Not anymore. But my own vows of celibacy and dedication to God, it is against them. And yes. It’s very hard being a priest and feeling lust.”

“Celibacy. So… you’ve never…” Y/n closed her mouth and looked down at the floor for a moment. “That makes me feel very ashamed of what I’ve done and how I feel lately. I feel like I have not been honest with you, but now knowing this about you makes me feel even worse for the things I’ve imagined,” she looked down at her lap and shook her head.

Harry reached a hand out to cover hers, “Do not feel ashamed. I would not look at you differently no matter your confession to me because I’m a sinner just the same. And I haven’t followed my vows. I love God and I love being a priest, but I love other things as well. Those things are between me and God. He is my judge and he knows my heart.”

Harry knew Y/n wasn’t dumb. He knew he’d told her enough that she could piece things together on her own. And her expression revealed to him just as much. She nodded with a small smile at his words and looked down at his hand covering her.

Keeping her eyes on Harry’s, Y/n slowly brought her free hand down to Harry’s and then lifted his hand upward. She leaned down to press her lips to his knuckles and slowly kissed each one. Harry’s mouth dropped open as he watched her kiss his hand. Her soft lips on each of his knuckles were innocent but the way she looked up into his eyes as she did so was not.

Harry breathed out heavily at the contact and let her continue. She manipulated his hand so that his palm was facing upward and she kissed the center of his hand and up to his fingers. She placed small pecks to the pads of each finger and kept her eyes on his. The intimate gesture was more than just a kind act of reverence.

With his hand held in both of hers, she kept her lips over his fingers as she spoke to him, “I love your hands, Father,” she closed her eyes and continued kissing along his fingertips. Harry watched her in awe.

She kept her eyes closed and spoke again, “I dreamt of you last night, and it was the best dream,” her voice was a whisper, “it was sinful, dirty, and I didn’t want to wake from it. But I liked it,” she continued kissing his fingers. When her tongue gently swiped over the pad of his thumb Harry inhaled a sharp breath and then lifted his free hand and carded his fingers through her hair gently.

The moment she felt Harry’s hand in her hair she opened her eyes again to look at the priest and very cautiously, slowly kissed the tip of his thumb before parting her lips and sucking just the very tip into her mouth. When she saw that Harry was not opposed to this action, she took more of his thumb into her mouth, their eyes locked. Harry tilted his head and watched her, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his mouth dropped open, nostrils flaring.

Harry had no expectations of her doing anything like this, but he wasn’t too particularly surprised. He knew she had at least a small crush on him, he hoped it was more than just a small crush and he was not disappointed in the way she was responding to him.

“You’re a good girl, Y/n. We cannot help the way God has made us,” Harry’s voice came out a bit cinched and breathy. He was enjoying this display very much.

Y/n kept her eyes on Harry’s as she took his pointer finger into her mouth and did the same as she had with his thumb. Her mouth was warm and soft over Harry’s digits. This was clearly a sexual gesture and Harry would not stop her from continuing. He kept his eyes on hers and watched the lustful show of Y/n lips wrapped around his finger.

When she removed her mouth from his finger she spoke, “Can I… Please, Father, can I,” she got out of her seat, making Harry remove his hand from her hair, and she dropped onto her knees. Putting her hands on the priest’s knees she looked up at him from her kneeling position, “Father, I’ll do whatever you want. I just, please, let me revere you and you can do whatever you please to me. We can go to God together for our penance, to atone. Just let it be with me that you sin. I’ll take it on, a sacrifice to your goodness, Father. I’m not worthy of you, but I’m begging you to pity me, let me take your sins and your punishment. I’ll do it happily if you let me serve you.”

The moment suddenly changed with her vocalization of what she wanted. Harry grasped her chin and shook his head with a soft expression, “I don’t think you realize what you’re asking me, Y/n. I’m being very serious right now. That’s what you want? Do you know what it means to do what you say? I need to know what you think that means.”

Y/n let out the tiniest whimper at the feel of his hands on her jaw holding her face to look at him, “I… I want to give myself completely to you, I need it. Want it. So badly. But only if you are pleased with me. Only if you want me. But only me.”

Harry wasn’t sure she understood what she was asking. Typically when he took someone as his submissive there was an agreement in place already. He would seek out someone who was previously looking for that kind of arrangement. He felt it was in his best interest, and hers, to be upfront with her.

“I do things most priests would be appalled by, Y/n. My sexual appetite is something I keep very private and separate from my job. I have been searching for someone to keep. Someone who wants to be mine. Someone who will submit and comply at all times to me. A person who would be a willing companion for me. Submissive to me. To allow me to dominate,” Harry paused to monitor her expression. She nodded subtly her eyes still on his.

“Yes. It’s exactly what I want, Father. Anything you want is everything I want,” she spoke in a small voice and Harry smiled. Her answer was good. It was just what he was looking for.

Y/n grasped Harry’s forearm that held her jaw and pulled his hand upward to her mouth again. With her eyes on his and her knees still on the floor at his feet, she spoke in a whisper, “Please, Father,” as he sucked his middle finger into her mouth, her tongue flicking over the underside of his finger.

Harry had had enough. He dragged her upward to his lap where she climbed over him, her thighs straddling his. He pulled her into his body and pressed his mouth over hers once and for all. A kiss that had them moaning and desperate. Her lips on his felt soft and wanton. She trembled in his arms and on his lap as he licked over her tongue. He smoothed his hand up under her sweater and onto her back softly and she winced at the feel from the welts. He ghosted his hands over the raised skin and then lowered his mouth to her jaw and then down to her neck on the little freckle he’d seen earlier. He licked the spot and then sucked the tiniest bruise under her jaw and her gasp told him she enjoyed it.

Harry lowered his mouth down her neck and softly bit at the skin, then he stood up, holding onto her thighs, and walked her to his bedroom in haste where he placed her on his large, soft bed.

“Take the sweater off,” Harry commanded and watched her peel the fabric off of her body. She then moved to take her bra off and the moment her breasts were bare before him Harry groaned and crawled onto the bed next to her, pressing her down flat.

Harry latched his mouth to her breasts and slowly licked over the exposed skin, biting in tiny nips as he kissed down to underneath the flesh of her round tits. Y/n sucked in sharp breaths at the pinch of the bites he gave her and rubbed her thighs together when she moved her hand into his hair.

Harry moved his warm mouth down her body slowly, with generous use of his tongue.

Harry pushed himself up and placed his hands on both sides of her body, caging her ribs, “Roll over. Let me kiss your wounds.”

Y/n bit her lip and moved to her stomach and Harry’s soft touch on her back was followed by his wet lips kissing over the pink and raised skin from the flogging. He applied open-mouthed kisses down the length of each red stripe on her back and he noted how she wiggled her bum and rocked her hips. He smirked as he continued kissing over her shoulder blade, his hand gently caressing her sides.

When he’d finished on her back he sat up and held onto the back of her neck, keeping her head down. Her face was turned, cheek smushed into the comforter.

“You’ll be mine to dominate as long as you want to be my submissive pet. But only if you give me your full consent because I need you to enjoy this with me. I’ve been looking for a long time, Y/n,” Harry spoke softly and lowered his mouth to kiss at her shoulder before continuing, his hot breath falling over her skin as he whispered his words, “You’ll submit to me in every way, taking my punishments, and allow me to have you sexually, emotionally, and spiritually. How does that sound?” He continued a path of kisses over her shoulder and back as he waited for her to speak, his hand still at the back of her neck.

Y/n nodded with her lip quivering, “Yes. Please. I only expect to be taken care of, to be loved, and in return, I’ll take care of you in any way you like. It’s all I’ve wanted. To belong to someone. To give myself completely to someone that cherishes me. And I truly want to belong to you, Father. But only me. No one else.”

Harry sat up and pulled Y/n gently upward by her neck to face him. He could see tears in her eyes. She was getting emotional.

Harry let go of her neck and brought a hand up to wipe at the tear that had fallen under her eye with his thumb, “There, there, darling. You’re already so perfect for me. Beautiful and sweet. I don’t want anyone but you. You and I will be very compatible,” Harry kept his hand on her face, softly swiping his thumb over her cheek. Y/n closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. She was perfect.

“I just want to be yours, Father,” she said softly, her eyes still closed.

Harry softly pressed his mouth to the edge of hers and then kissed where her tears had fallen, “Then you shall be mine now.”

Part 2*

I know this one doesn’t have smut - but prepare yourself for part 2 - it’s dirty and sexy.

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speedycoffeedelight · 3 months

Text

An Animalistic Disaster

Summery : Where they go through the interview and you get a bit drunk

Masterlist

CH-16: Job hunting (part two)

After parking, you three headed towards the cafe you all talked about. The owner of the cafe was a pair of old couple and their son. Their son was a barista who wanted to make his dreams of a successful cafe come true.

Unfortunately, he wasn't great with communication and they couldn't afford to hire a waiter with a nice amount of money. So it was their last attempt at saving the cafe. How do you know all that? Well being in the news industry has its perks when it comes to information collecting.

The horns on Charlie's head and the antenna's on Vaggie's is kind of a big problem. You prayed that they would look past them. It was a small cafe in middle of the bustling road. It looked like it badly needed some renovations. Still it looked cozy enough. You four finally entered. A small ring sounded out from the bell above the entrance door, alerting the boy that was cleaning the tables of the empty cafe.

"Ah,new customers! Welcome!" A freckled, orange haired boy wearing an apron quickly rushed towards you all. His blue eyes were glittering with excitement."Please come this wa-" You cut him off quickly. "Oh no, you misunderstand. We're here for the post of the waiter."

The boy stopped in his tracks and scanned the lot of you. "Are you all here for the interview? " "Oh no only these two" you said pointing at Charlie and Vaggie.

"Gotcha, please take a seat. I'll inform inside."

You nodded and sat down nearby on a table. "Alright, we need to go through something first. Charlie, Vaggie."

"Yes!"

"Yes (Y/n)?"

"Try to act casual, okay. Try to give your best shot during the interview. If they ask you where you came from, just say overseas. It should help skip a lot of questions."

"Will do! But which country should we say if they ask?" Charlie said nervously scratching her neck. "We don't really know much about earth."

"Hm, Charlie could be from America and Vaggie from Spain I guess. I think that checks out."

"Alright then we'll say that!"

"Also about your age...."

"I'll turn about 271 this year I think -" Charlie replied.

"Great, you'll say you're 27. As for Vaggie"

You turned to the black haired girl "You can say 26 or something close to Charlie, got it?"

"Got it ."

While talking with the two and preparing them about various questions. The freckled boy came back. "I hope you're ready for the interview. Come this way please."

"Best of luck you guys!" You pulled Vaggie close before she could follow the other two. "Make sure Charlie doesn't say anything stupid. I'm trusting in you." Vaggie nodded and they followed him to another corner of the cafe where an elderly looking couple was sitting.

"Please take a seat girls."

They nodded and took the seat in front them. "I apologize we couldn't do this in more formal way...things have been a little hard." The old man said. "No, no it's fine, it's fine! We don't mind." Charlie replied laughing nervously.

"Did you two both come for this job? You know there's only one post right?"

"Yes, we know that. Well we wouldn't mind if any of us gets picked really."

"I see, are you two close friends?"

"Girlfriends, actually.." Vaggie replied.

"Oh my, that's great sweetie" the old woman said with a smile. During the whole interview, the orange haired boy stood close, listening to the whole process. (Y/n) was right, they didn't push them too much. The interview was going smoothly.

"Do have any other experiences in working somewhere?"

"Why yes, I run a hote-"

"What she means to say is, we used to work at a hotel, mam." Vaggie quickly chipped in.

Mostly smoothly, with Vaggie coming in clutchs to save Charlie's ass a couple of times.

"We probably wouldn't be able to provide you with much money yet...as you could probably see the cafe's not in its best shape right now. I hope this won't be a problem." The old man sighed.

" Oh no please, don't worry. We'll take what we can get."

"Thank you girls. Our son Adrian is intent on running this cafe. I told him he could do so much better but he insisted on staying with us."

The couple whispered at each other for a moment and then turned to Charlie and Vaggie. "Could you please go back for a bit dear? We'll come with answers soon."

Their son Adrian quickly came forward to guide them back to you.

"So you both are.... girlfriends...? Part of the LGBTQ?"

"Yes, we are. Why?" Vaggie replied.

"Nothing, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

He turned his head away before both of them could say something and returned to you. Both you and Pentious were sitting anxiously. You let out a sigh of relief as they came back.

"So how did the interview go??" You asked pulling Vaggie close.

"I think it was fine. The owners were nice people."

"And did you pass?"

"They should announce it any time now"

After a few minutes, the couple came back alongside Adrian. You all looked at them nervously for the answer.

"Charlie's hired! I think we could use a nice cherry girl like you around here." The old man laughed. "Thank you! I'll do my best to help!" Charlie jumped off the seat in excitement.

"Just call me Mr.ronald." He shook Charlie's hand. "Could I expect you to work form tomorrow if possible? We need all the help we can get..."

"Yes of course. I'll be right here." Charlie said smiling. "Thank you Mr and Mrs.ronald."

After saying goodbyes and going outside, you let out a cheer. "You did it Charlie! I'm so proud of you." You hugged her in joy and she returned it just as happily.

For the next stop, you went around the market for cheap and broken things. You also bought some tools and equipment that Pentious said he needed. They weren't cheap, but you hoped it would be worth the money.

On your way home, you bought a bottle of wine to celebrate the victory. The others were happy to hear the news as well. Both you and Pentious jumped to work first as soon as you came. In the night, you popped open the wine bottle and poured it for the ones that transformed. You set aside some wine for Pentious since he still insisted on working outside.

Husk got caught trying to drink from Pentious's cup and you quickly moved him away. "Husk that's bad for you!" Husk just grumbled unhappily. He hadn't had booze in such a long time that it was making him go crazy.

You kept Husk on your lap and kept petting him while talking with others. Alcohol was clouding your sense a little bit so you forgot about the fact that you were fondly petting a grown man, or well a demon. Husk tired to leave couple of times but you kept a firm grip on him. And as much as he would hate to admit it, he kind of liked it. He began making purring noises unknowningly as he gave up on getting away.

Alastor and Angel were snickering looking at him from across the room. 'You finally got used to being a pet huh?' Alastor said teasingly making Husk hiss at him. You noticed this and picked up Husk and smothered him against your chest.

"Bad deer! Don't annoy my precious kitty!" You scolded Alastor and looked at Husk who was blushing madly and trying to get away again by pawing at you. "Are you alright kitty?" You held him in front of your face and he mewed in annoyance.

Charlie chuckled looking at you two. "I think you had quite enough drink (Y/n). You should rest." You wanted to say no but your head was pounding quite a bit. "Okaaay, but I want to pat the bad deer first! He still didn't let me touch him!"

Alastor's ears perked up at this statement as he quickly moved towards the door to make a run for it. But you were faster in your wobbly legs. You quickly attached yourself to his neck and nuzzled closer. Alastor briefly considered pushing you away with a violent shake. Briefly since Vaggie sensed it as well and decided to speak fast.

"Don't you try to shake her off Alastor. You'll hurt her." Vaggie replied from the chair she's was currently sitting on. She tried to gently peel you away from Alastor but you wouldn't budge making him groan. This time it was Husk's turn to laugh.

"Just indulge her a bit will you? She'll be normal once she wakes up." Charlie requested Alastor. 'Do I look like- gah, fine...'

He sighed giving in after seeing the girls glare at him. You smiled in happiness when you sensed no resistance from him anymore and dragged one of your hands to his ears. All the other demons in the room watched this eagerly.

'Shit, I really wish I had a camera right now...' Angel whispered.

'Same..' Said Cherri and Husk in unison. They both knew they won't get to see this type of thing so soon again. Cherri thought about how much money she could sell the picture for if she got it and Husk thought about how he'd have something to blackmail against him.

The fur on his ears was soft, terribly so. You carefully moved your hands from the base to the tip of his ears. You were drunk, but you were still gentle. Alastor could feel all the eyes burning at him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so embarrassed. Unknown to him, his tail was swaying behind him making others have the time of their life seeing it.

"Soo... fluffy...." You whispered softly. Alastor's ears perked up again as he caught that. 'Okay I think that's enough. Charlie please move her before I shove her off.'

Charlie, who was having a hard time holding in laughter, immediately jumped into action. Prying you away from Alastor was no easy task. You still had a lot of strength in yourself. While you were getting dragged to your room, you got a hold of Husk who let out a meow of help. But this time, no one came to help.

Charlie tucked you inside your bed with you still holding onto Husk who just accepted his fate at this point.

"Now just rest up okay?"

"Mmhmm, I will!!"

You replied with a childlike glee making Charlie's heart swoon. She couldn't resist planting a small kiss on your forehead before exiting the room. Husk raised a eye brow at that but decided not to question it. After all, Charlie is normally known to be pretty affectionate.

Resting Husk on your chest, you began to softly pat his fur, making him purr again. He hated how much power you had over him. He was grateful no one was there to witness it this time. Charlie probably told others to keep out of your room for now.

Then suddenly you started crying. Husk was stunned. He mewoed at you to ask what's wrong.

" *Sniff* I miss you... cotton..tails..." You whispered softly. 'Who the fuck is cottontails? That can't be a person.' Husk looked at your crying face once again. He sighed and then nuzzled his head to your cheek trying to comfort you.

"Thank you kitty...." You held Husk close and rubbed your face together. 'Ugh..gross...' Husk mumbled. Then you settled him on your chest again and finally passed out.

'Finally you sleep..god I can't handle these shit being sober. I was so damn close to that wine.." Then he looked at you and found you crying softly again. 'Oh for the love of-' Although he was mentally cursing up a storm in his head, it still sucked seeing you like this. He leaned his head over and softly licked your cheeks while purring.

'What the fuck am I even doing? This shit ain't normal...' But seeing you finally stop crying and then pop up a small smile, if his eyes weren't mistaken, it felt like it was worth it.

'Sleep well kid. I'll be here when you wake up.'

He looked at you with an amount of softness he hasn't looked at anyone in a long time. He rested his head down and closed his eyes.

'Maybe feeling like this ain't bad sometimes..'

Soft yellow light engulfed the room. This time it wasn't as intensely as the ones before. It still bothered you so you turned around while holding the cat. Well the cat who just got turned into a human without either of you knowing. The light was so soft this time, others didn't notice it either till next morning.

Several half-humans and animals surrounded your bed, mouth agape in shock and astonishment. Vaggie and Charlie were the first to find you like this. Charlie then called everyone to ask what to do. There you were, cuddling a grown ass man who they recognised as Husk, sleeping away peacefully like there's no tomorrow. And the other thing they all noticed was that Husk was shirtless. Charlie refused to believe he was naked with you since you were both still under a blanket and they couldn't see downwards.

'I'm going to wake them up. I can't stand this cheesy show in front of me.' Cherri said suddenly.

"No no you definitely should let her sleep a bit. Maybe we could get Husk to get up.." Charlie said.

'Do ya think they fucked before sleeping like this? Cause it feels like it.'

"Angel you're not helping!"

'I'm just sayin what I think.'

"Angel!"

'Cannonball!'

While they were busy chatting, Cherri took the liberty of jumping on your face,promptly waking you up. She used her tail to swat Husks face as well.

Needless to say, you never expected to wake up cuddling a half naked guy in the morning. So nobody could really blame you for the scream you let out.

A.N: (Please read) There's one thing I wanted to make clear early on is that this book may contain some spicy stuff in future. Not full smut though. I don't believe I have the capability to write those stuffs. Mostly it'll be chill and normal with some shenanigans.

Also let me apologize for writing the two things shit with Pentious 😭. I thought it would be funny to add since it's already canon. But then later I wanted nothing more than to go hide in a hole and decompose from embarrassment reading some of the comments.

That being said, although it would be bit of a spoiler but lemme just say Husk is not naked. I don't want a return of those comments :') they all wear the outfit of season 1 when they transform.

Also Charlie's age thing is reference to an annoyomus ask on Tumblr. I quite enjoyed the scenarios so I decided to throw a bit here.

Tag list: @legostars @glowinthedarkbones1150 @darifes @aria-tempest @rainbowcake1212 @luxylucylou

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ateliersss · 1 year

Text

I wish I could stay in the Past

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader Summary: Who would have thought that 27 years after the first Woodsboro massacre, you still couldn't live in peace? Now, you have been asked by Agent Kirby Reed to come to New York, where apparently a new Ghostface killer was on the loose. For you, this meant going back into your past and meeting the person you were trying to protect from your life since she was born. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Spoilers for Scream VI, English isn't my first language Word Count: 5,890

Kirby stood in front of the white board plastered with photos of every Ghostface killer from 1996 to 2022, of the masks found at the crime scenes, and of the victims killed so far.

“…Mickey Altieri, Nancy Loomis, Stu Macher and Billy Loomis. Number One and also the father of our chief suspect.”

Detective Bailey, arms crossed before his chest, nodded before adding, “It’s all leading us back to Sam.”

“What about the girlfriend?” Kirby suddenly mumbled, more to herself than addressing the Detective.

“What? Who’s girlfriend?”

“(Y/N) (L/N). She and Billy were childhood sweethearts. Although she was never personally involved in any Ghostface incidents following 1996 she could never quite live her life in peace. I mean, come on. The mourning love interest has to be a main suspect. His mother tried to avenge his death and no one thought about that either. Then boom! Dead teenagers everywhere.”

Bailey turned his face to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What? It’s just an idea.”

“Hm.” He hummed, “It could be worth a shot.”

A totally stupid shot, because what sane person would suddenly seek revenge after 27 years? Well, if it keeps her occupied, who am I to stop her?

“Any idea on how we can reach her?”

Kirby smirked. “Of course I do.”

New York was far too loud, far too big and far too dirty for your liking. You preferred the calmness and the quiet of a nice little town somewhere far away from any crime or even the smallest hint of being dragged into another drama. You really thought you would finally be at peace, having that calm and quiet life, until you got a call from Agent Kirby Reed. You remember that name well. Besides Sidney and Gale, obviously, she was the only victim who survived the Second Woodsboro Massacre. On the phone she told you that someone had put on the Ghostface mask again and was after a group of teenagers. She wanted you to come to New York right away so you could be questioned.

It wasn’t the first time you were a suspect but being one again after almost 30 years? You were about to give vent to the familiar old feeling of simmering anger for being falsely accused again when…

“Your niece was among those who were attacked.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m on my way. It’s going to take a few hours.”

“That’s alright. When you arrive in New York go straight to the NYPD and tell them you are here to see Agent Reed. Someone will show you the way to the office I’m currently occupying.”

You were just about to open the car door and leave the parking lot near the police station when you got a text.

[Agent Reed]: Change of plans. Someone thinks you need to see this too. Come to this address.

So now you were standing in front of some kind run-down movie theatre, not knowing if you were ate the right place. You read the text message again… nope, still the same street name and the same house number. You were about to dial Kirby’s number when someone called your name.

“Over here!”

You turned to the blonde woman standing a few meters away from you, holding open a metal door. “Agent Kirby Reed?” You asked.

“The one and only.” She nodded for you to follow her. “Come in, the others are already inside.”

It’s strange, you thought. I’m actually meeting Samantha.

You stopped at a metal bar door that already allowed you an insight of the room ahead of you. There was tingling feeling in your belly.

“You’re ready?”

You nodded as an answer, not trusting your mouth to form a decent sentence.

It felt like you were pushed back into your 18-year-old-self. Mannequins, display shelves and cases were set up and lead to a stage. It was impossible to take everything in at the same time so you walked through the row that was closest to you. Years of evidence put together like it was a museum, like a fucking…

“A shrine.” Kirby said from behind you. “Dedicated to every killer that put on the mask.”

You barely registered what she just said when you saw what was displayed at the end of the row. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes. There… There were Tatum’s clothes, the ones she wore when she was killed… and there was the robe Stu wore at his party… and Billy’s bloody t-shirt. You walked past a sitting mannequin looking exactly like Steve Orth until you were standing right in front of the white cloth still covered in blood. Huffing out a shaky breath, you reached out to touch it. Your fingers traced from every hole where he was stabbed until it stopped on the chest of the mannequin. You almost expected to feel a heartbeat underneath your skin…

Oh Billy.

Maybe it was the overwhelming, morbid nostalgic feeling that almost crushed you seeing all those reminders of your past, but you still hadn’t noticed the small group on the stage next to you watching you either with curious or wary eyes.

You were still caught up in your head, thinking back to that afternoon on September 28th in 1996 — you, reading another true crime novel and playing with the brown curls of your boyfriend’s hair while his head rested on your lap, napping. You two had stayed in this position until the sun went down. The clock read 6 PM when you decided to make dinner and he left the kitchen to make a quick phone call. When he got back…

“Billy, are you serious? There is a killer outside!”

“Stu lives only 10 minutes away. I’ll take the car.”

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just gonna make sure he doesn’t overdo it. You know how he is.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I do and I love him for that.”

Billy tilted his head, an amused glint in his eyes. “Oh really? I thought you loved me.”

The smile on your face grew brighter as he bent down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “I do love you. So much.”

You snapped out of your thoughts.

It would have been perfect. A concerned Billy wanting to make sure his best friend was okay so he goes to his party to check on him, but is surprised by the killer. Both, he and Stu, are fighting to survive and in the end, sadly, they are the only ones still alive. The police would have believed them that it was Sidney’s father all along and you and Billy could have lived a happily ever after in another town, away from all that traumatic shit he ‘went through’.

But the reality was different. Billy had been a psychotic serial killer, murdering friends and class mates and even Sidney’s mother. He had been the one getting addicted to the feeling of killing someone after Maureen Prescott, he had been the one who had done all those horrible things…

“Kirby, who’s that?” A female voice asked.

Kirby gave you a quick look before answering, “This is (Y/N) (L/N)-“

“(Y/N)?” Gale interrupted her and watched you climb the stairs of the stage.

You first inspected each of the 9 Ghostface mannequins — your eyes lingering on the middle one a little longer — before acknowledging her. You still held a grudge against her considering how much she had turned your life upside down.

“Hello Gale. Long time no see.” You greeted her with a tight smile on your lips. “And since I was ordered here for an interrogation, let’s be honest. It’s actually (Y/N) Carpenter.”

Everyone but Gale suddenly straightened up before the teenagers of the group looked at the two girls closest to the Ghostface costume in the glass case. Both looked at you with furrowed eyebrows as if they were trying to somehow place you in their family tree.

Looking at her made you tear up. You smiled. “Hi Samantha.”

“It’s… just Sam, actually. I’m sorry, do I know you?” She asked you, confused, still trying to remember where and when she met you.

“You don’t, but I know you. Christina told me everything about you, always kept me up-to-date.” You took a quick breathe to control your emotions. “God, you’ve grown. You look so much like him.”

Sam shifted on her feet, not liking where this conversation was going. “Him? You mean my father.”

“How do you know our mom?” The short girl next to her butt in. She seemed just as wary as her sister.

“Christina is my older sister.”

“So you’re our aunt.”

“Not exactly. I’m your aunt, Tara.” You said before addressing Sam directly, “Christina called me when you found out who your real father is in those diaries.” You were really about to drop the bomb. “You know, those diaries weren’t hers… they were mine.”

“What are you saying?”

“That the one who got pregnant by Billy Loomis wasn’t Christina. It was me.”

Sam looked at you like you've grown a second head. “So what? You’re… You’re my mother?”

“Biological, yes. In any other way, probably not.”

“Oh my God.” She started to walk up and down with her hands gripping her hair. “Oh my God.”

“I know it’s a lot, but-“

“A lot? You just come here, a total stranger, and tell me you’re my mother when the woman who raised me all those years isn’t actually my mom but my aunt!”

“I don't expect you to replace her with me and accept me as your new mother, Sam. I’m not planning on taking you with me to force you into mother-daughter-relationship after 26 years. I’m here to help you.”

Sam’s head whipped around to look at Kirby.

“She’s on my suspect list, Sam.” Kirby shrugged, “Apparently no one thinks about the revengeful love interest.”

“But I have an alibi.” You defended yourself, “I wasn’t even near New York when the teacher and the students were murdered. Same goes to the therapist and your two friends. I actually expected being questioned at the NYPD, but if you actually want to interrogate me here, go ahead.”

“Then why are you here? This very place?”

You looked back at Tara. “Because Agent Reed told me to. From what she told me we experienced similar situations and she thought I had a right to see this too.” You looked around the room. “My past is on display here as much as hers or Gale's.”

Sam shook her head, taking a step forward. “So, just to get this straight. You get knocked up by a serial killer and then just leave the baby with your sister? You found out you were pregnant with me and dumped me because what? You didn’t want to be a mom at such a young age? Or was it because you were disgusted by me?”

Your eyes widened. Of course you expected some resistance and some accusations, but it was still like a knife to your heart to see her betrayed expression and hear her furious voice. “No, of course not. I loved you the second I held you in my arms.”

“Then why?”

“I had no other choice! Do you know how hard it was, living like I had to after your father died? The names they called me? And you… you were the size of a grape and they already called you the Devil’s Spawn. No one wants to raise a child in an environment like that.”

“So you just abandoned me? Left me behind so you could get away from everything?”

“I didn’t abandon you, I gave you a safe life away from every threat that could hurt you or even corrupt you. After that night when… when it all happened, my normal life was over. Either all those blase do-gooders in Woodsboro treated me like I put a Ghostface mask on and killed all those people myself, or I was viewed by these Stab-obsessed lunatics as some sort of precious artifact left behind by their idol. I was ambushed by dozens of assholes in costumes and got 3 or 4 calls a day. Even after I moved to other towns, fuck, even to another state, and I still couldn't live my life in peace. Thanks, by the way.” You turned to Gale.

“What, me?”

“The tirade of hate you wrote about me in your damn books. First the boyfriend, then the mother of the boyfriend, and then even Roman Bridger just because he was the one who stirred Billy on into going on a killing spree. You even mentioned me in your fourth book when I literally had no connection to anything that happened that year! You made it look like I pulled the strings, egged on every Ghostface, and was planning every murder, Gale.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. Just like you called Sam a born killer, you called me the secret Ghostface that got away who will someday get revenge on Sidney for killing the love of her life.”

Gale opened her mouth, but having nothing to reply with, she closed it again.

Using the following silence to return to the current problem, Chad asked, “So, just to make sure before that–” He awkwardly gestured to you and Sam “–happened. Someone killed these chucklefucks and took over?”

“Someone who believes that Sam masterminded Woodsboro.”

“If this would be a movie this would be the killer’s lair.”

“Which means this isn’t a normal Stab movie.”

Apparently that gave Tara the rest, as she left the stage with brisk steps and disappeared into an adjoining room. Sam was hot on her heels.

Shortly thereafter, the rest of the group split up — Kirby joined Mindy to sit on the edge of the stage, Ethan and Chad were on different sides of the room, looking at the displayed evidence, and Detective Bailey was talking to someone on the phone.

You finally had time to walk to and look at the glass case in front of you. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing that the one you had loved the most in this world killed four people and thereby started a future death streak, all committed in costumes of his alter ego.

You were so deep in thought that ten minutes had passed and you hadn't noticed that Sam was back and was standing behind you.

“Are you married?” She asked, attracting your attention.

You took your eyes off of Billy’s name plate and looked into her brown ones that reminded you so much of her father’s. “What?”

Sam nodded down to your hand. “Do you have a family?”

Ahh…

“Oh, no. No, I don’t. That’s a promising ring. You know, when you promise someone to stay together forever and maybe get married one day. Do you kids still do that?”

“Yeah, when we’re like twelve, not fifty.”

You chuckled. “Ouch. I still have six years until I’m that old.” Sighing, you touched the ring and rolled it around your ring finger. “No, I was actually twelve years when… well, when your dad gifted it to me. So young and he already wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. This one–” You held the hand with the ring at eye level, “–was never ever replaced since then. His is right here.” You pulled the silver chain from underneath your t-shirt and revealed a similar ring just slightly bigger.

A shiver ran down Sam’s back, before asking in disbelief, “You kept it?”

“I did. And I know it seems like I went crazy or something while grieving, but I was young and devastated. I just lost the love of my life. Some grow distant and want to avoid anything that has to do with their lost loved one or being constantly reminded of them. Others, like me, have to hold onto every little fiber of them. I wore his clothes, put on his cologne… God, it was really a terrible way to cope.”

Sam grimaced.

You smiled slightly. “What?”

“It’s just strange hearing someone talk about him like he was…”

“Human?”

“He killed people, he was murderer, and you… you loved him.”

“Do you think it’s easy to stop loving someone in mere seconds? Minutes, hours, days, weeks? You have that person who you would die for, who you would kill for. This person is your everything, and you can’t imagine a life without them. So you plan it with that person; how you will graduate, how you will find a job, how you will leave both your parent’s houses to move together, maybe move to a new town, how you will have children with them, how you will marry them, and how you will grow old with them. Billy was my person, the one I wanted all those boring normal things with. And you have those normal things. You hold hands, cuddle, kiss, go on dates...” You stopped and took a breath. “Until the police shows up at your door and tells you that the one who had murdered your friends was him all along. There’s a sliver of hope that maybe, maybe you can visit him in prison so you can talk to him. But that won’t happen because the police tells you right after that he had been killed by your best friend, Sidney Prescott, and that they have some questions for you.”

You still remember how they interrogated you and asked you if you knew about Billy’s doings, if they were signs that seemed suspicious, asked you about the places you have been when he and Stu killed another victim and if there were people who could vouch for you. After two hours they finally let you go, saying they would call you if they had any more questions. You asked if you could see him, his body. Since his mother left, his father was nowhere to be found and Billy had no other close relatives, you were the next best option.

The moment you saw him, lying there cold and pale on that metal table, your whole world crumbled. With slow shaky steps you had walked closer and closer to him. Almost relieved for something to hold on, you had supported yourself by grabbing the table. At that moment you didn’t care who could see you or who could hear you… you just cried. Your sobs and hysterical breathing had filled the room, your knees buckling and your knuckles turning white from how hard you had clutched the table.

“No. No, no, no.”

You had started to hyperventilate. It got harder and harder to breathe. The walls seemed to grow closer.

And then everything went black.

When you woke up in a hospital bed you were greeted by a nurse who tried to calm you down. She told you, according to the coroner, you had passed out after having a panic attack. Just to make sure that was the actual reason they ran a few tests — nothing special, just the usual hospitals did when patients arrived unconscious. She had reassured you after you gave her a concerned look.

“Don’t worry, honey. The results of blood tests didn’t show anything worrying, but I can give you my congratulations. You are pregnant.”

Pregnant.

With Billy’s…

“You are three weeks along. The embryo is as tiny as a poppy seed, just a millimeter.”

You had gaped at her still in disbelief.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

You were pregnant with Billy’s baby.

Billy…

Tears had started to form in your eyes and the nurse got blurry. Again there was this feeling in your chest that there was not enough air around you and it got harder to breathe.

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetie. Since you’re only eighteen, we called your parents. They should be here soon.”

Your mom and dad had been more or less supportive. They had always loved Billy. There had been many get-together’s with his family — barbecue, picnics, movie nights. Your parents got along well. But when Billy was revealed as the Ghostface killer, yours had cut ties with the Loomis family and sheltered you from any contact from them.

What they couldn’t shelter you from was Nancy Loomis’ surprise visit three months later. Thanks to Gale’s book — because she somehow managed to find out the reason for your visit to the hospital and because this heartbreaking twist would boost her sales — everyone knew you were pregnant. Including Mrs. Loomis.

You were still stuck deep in your depression. You went from mourning him to call everything into question — was it all a lie? Every touch, every kiss, every I-love-you, every time you made love and talked about the most intimate things — to mourning him again. You were a mess.

It was too much when Billy’s mother was suddenly standing on your doorstep. You had slammed the door right into her face when you saw who was interrupting your crying fest, but through the door she had convinced you to let her in so you could talk. Your hormones got the better of you and you opened the door. Her eyes flew instantly to your belly, but your baby bump wasn’t visible through the white tee and the blue flannel.

“You have his clothes?”

“I have all his stuff. His clothes, his posters, his movies.”

You had talked to Hank and begged him to have some of his things. He had stopped you mid-rant and said you could have everything you wanted; he didn’t want it in his house. So you grabbed everything you could. When you saw the pictures displayed in his room — of you and of you and him — you turned into a crying mess and collapsed on his bed. His pillow still had smelled like him.

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you remember was Mr. Loomis shaking you awake, looking into your bloodshot eyes and asking you if you were okay.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to-“

“(Y/N), I asked you if you’re okay.”

You had pressed your wobbly lips together and shook your head. He had engulfed you in his arms and tried his best to comfort you. After all, you were still you and despite every negative thought and feeling he held for his son and his deeds, you were not at fault. You were still the little girl from next door he had hoped to be his future daughter-in-law. You left that day with most of his stuff carefully packed up in the trunk of your car. You knew this wasn’t healthy, morbid even — the girl who grabbed the belongings of her dead killer-boyfriend to put everything in her room to have at least a hint of his presence, a imaginary possibility of him still being here with her. Now there were even more pictures of your smiling faces on your shelf, your desk, the table next to your bed and on your walls. Your closet was fuller with the addition of his t-shirts and his jackets. His movie collection was proudly placed next to yours on your shelf.

There was also a box under your bed. When you went through Billy’s tiny walk-in closet you found a cavity hidden behind the wallpaper. Inside of it was a black costume, a Ghostface mask and a knife.

A bloody knife.

Whose blood was that?!

Before you could muster another thought you scrambled to the garbage can and emptied your stomach. When you were done you felt a wave of guilt wash over you.

What were you doing? How did you not notice any suspicious change?

Well, there was this one time after his mom left. He had been so distant, strange, and there had been a dark glint in his eyes when you had cornered him after a week of radio silence. The look he fixed you with gave you the heebie-jeebies. He came around a few days later and acted like nothing had happened between the two of you.

Going back to Mrs. Loomis’ visit, you took your time warming up to her. Seeing her cry and listening to her begging you for forgiveness in Billy’s stead. Under the influence of, again, your stupid pregnancy hormones you gave in and made her a cup of tea. You two talked for hours, mostly about her son and how much she regretted leaving him behind, then Mrs. Loomis wanted you to tell her everything about what happened after leaving and what happened that night in Stu Macher’s house. When you ended your story with your pregnancy, she smiled.

“Even though he’s gone there is still a part of him with us. There is still something important I have to do, but after that I will take care of you and the little one and support the both of you in any way possible. I promise, sweetie.”

As it turned out, the important thing she had to do was to kill Sidney. The target on your back you thought had disappeared returned with Gale Weather’s second book. Again, you were harassed and threatened until you couldn’t take it anymore and you moved away. It got harder each time since you were in the last stages of pregnancy. It hurt thinking about it, but you would never put your baby into a life like this. So you did what you thought was right.

Your sister was more than happy to take her in. Christina would inherit their family’s home and would be able to raise your daughter — now your niece — safely.

Snapping out of your thoughts you continued, “Back then I was at the lowest point in my life and out of all people Sidney was the one who got me back on track. My mom and dad, your grandparents, must have asked her to come over to talk to me. I actually thought she would just turn around and walk away when she saw my room, considering it was crammed with Billy's stuff. He was in every corner of it, the man who killed her mother and almost killed her. She should be the one staying in bed, crying until she passed out. After all she’s the one who survived all that traumatic shit. ”

“Sidney visited you?”

You huffed. “Of course she did. I was her best friend. Randy and I were the only survivors out of our friend group. He and Sidney were the only ones who still treated me like a normal human being.” You shrugged. “Anyways. Sidney was there for me. At first I wasn't sure if I even wanted to see her. Inside, I knew she had no choice but to kill Billy, but I still held a grudge against her. I was afraid I would take all my anger and sadness out on her. But the second she put her arms around me, all negative thoughts disappeared and I realized how much I needed my best friend at that moment. She got me out of bed, made me go to see a therapist and kept reminding me of you, Sam.” You looked at your daughter. “I couldn’t allow myself to be selfish. I had to think of your well-being, too.”

Sam nodded in understanding and then looked around the room. “I… I'll go check on Tara.” It looked like she wanted to add something, but she apparently she couldn't find the right words.

You gave her a sanguinely smile. “You do that. When this is all over, I promise you that we can talk about everything in peace and I will answer any question you might have. Only if you want, of course.”

“I’d like that.” Sam said before turning around to go looking for her sister.

You watched her until she disappeared from your sight and turned back to Billy's costume. It didn’t even look that scary from your point of view — which might have been due to the lack of a mask — but almost 30 years ago you had thought of it differently. You looked to the Ghostface costume on the right, your eyes slowly dragging down the black fabric until they reached the name tag.

Stu.

You looked up again, scrutinizing the whole look.

You remember the first and only time you were face to face with it. Your parents were on a once-in-a-blue-moon date in a nice restaurant, leaving you alone for a few hours. They only had been out of the house for 30 minutes when you got the infamous call. You skipped to the living room, letting you dinner heat up in the microwave, and picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

“Yes?”

“Am I talking to (Y/N)?”

“Yeah. Who is this?”

“You could say a secret admirer.”

“Oh yeah? Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I have boyfriend whom I love very much.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” You giggled, lazily playing with the phone cord.

“That’s a shame, really. In that little dress you look like a girl a guy would kill for.”

The smile completely disappeared from your face as you turned to every window the living room possessed.

“What?”

It felt like someone had punched you in the gut, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You abruptly remember the things Sidney had told you about what happened that night when she was attacked — the smooth male voice, the things he said that gave her the chills, him in a black robe and a white ghost mask, trying to kill her.

Before you could think twice you slammed the telephone handle on the hook.

“Okay, okay. Just relax. Just some weirdo trying to scare you. It doesn't necessarily have to be-”

You shrieked when the doorbell rang.

“Jesus.” With a hand pressed against your chest, you walked to the door. “Who’s there?”

No answer.

“Billy, is that you?”

There was no other possibility than him, considering you casually mentioned to him that your parents weren’t home with a mischievous smirk on your lips. This time he wouldn’t have to sneak through your window. You were just opening the door, pondering whether you should tell him about the weird call or not, when you were met with a white ghost mask.

Screaming, you slammed the door shut and locked it. You could hear his body colliding with the door, kicking against it, trying to open it. You didn’t even think about waiting for him to successfully gain access and ran up to your room. You locked the door of your room too before grabbing your cell phone and dialing Billy’s number.

“Billy, please. Billy, please. Pick up, please.”

You ran to the window that was facing Billy’s. His room was completely dark.

You let out a whimper. “Come on, Billy, please. Please pick up.” Tears streamed down your face. When you heard the door slam against the wall downstairs, you clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle a scream.

“(Y/N)?”

Relief washed over you. You swirled around, seeing Billy standing at his window with his phone pressed against his ear.

“Billy…” You tried to control your breath. “T-There is someone in the house… the killer. He is wearing the mask Sidney told us about. He is… He is…”

You watched your boyfriend disappear, presumably running out of his room to get to you.

“It’s okay, baby. Is your door locked?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. Push your dresser in front of the door and hide in the closet. Stay there until I tell you it’s safe. I’m coming, baby, you hear me?”

You heard him skipping down the stairs, listened to his reassuring words.

“I-I’m scared, Billy. I don’t want t-to die.”

“You won’t, I promise you. Just do what I told you. Now!”

Nodding, you ran to your dresser and pushed against it with your whole body weight until it was in front of your door. Next you ran to your closet, pulled open the door, closed it and crouched in a corner far back against the wall.

“I’m in the closet.” You whispered and when you got no answer you added, “Billy? Bill-”

You were interrupted by a loud “Hey!” and something that sounded like fighting noises. Whimpering you fought with yourself — on the one hand you wanted to disobey Billy’s wishes and help him out of concern that the killer might hurt him; on the other hand you wanted to do what he told you and stay hidden.

Meanwhile, Billy was seething as he grabbed his best friend by his collar and forcefully pushed him against the wall in the narrow floor leading to your room. He pulled down the mask and revealed Stu’s jolly face.

“What the fuck did I tell you, huh? (Y/N) is off-limits!” Billy whisper-yelled, pulling Stu lightly to himself before slamming him hard against the wall, not releasing his grip.

Stu groaned. “I just wanted to scare her a little. I thought it would be funny.”

If he weren't Billy’s best friend and if they didn't have big plans ahead of themselves, Billy would have strangled him by now. He tried to channel his rage and took a deep breath before saying, “Listen, dipshit. She. Is. Off. Limits! Killing your ex? I’m in. Her new boy toy? No problem. But keep your fucking hands off of her or I’ll cut your fingers off one by one and push them down your throat, got it?”

Stu gulped and nodded, his big smile morphing into a smaller one. He wasn’t scared of Billy, but Stu had to admit that there were some moments when his aggressions got worrisome.

“Now get out!” Billy hissed and let go of Stu. He waited a moment before knocking on your door.

“(Y/N), it’s me. It’s okay, he’s gone.”

There was shuffling behind the door and a minute later you ripped it open and flung yourself into his arms. Billy was shushing you, caressing your back while listening to you crying. “It’s okay, I’m here.” He kept saying.

When your breathing calmed down, he pulled away from you and placed his hands on both of your cheeks while looking deep into your eyes.

“You’re stupid, you know that?” You mumbled, “Without thinking you ran into a house with a killer in it.”

“The only thing I could think in that moment was you.”

You slightly shook your head with a small smile. “You’re so cheesy.”

Billy huffed a laugh before turning serious again. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I was fast enough to close the door, ran upstairs, lock my door and hide in the closet just as you told me. There won’t even be bruise.”

“Good.” He nodded and kissed you forehead. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

You, of course, had no idea what happened that evening outside of your room. You didn’t know about the lengths he would go for you to keep you safe. You didn’t know he would have killed for you. You didn’t know that Billy’s feelings and his love for you were genuine, something you truly questioned after the things Sidney had told you about that night. You didn’t know that he felt scared when he realized that his plan was failing and he maybe wouldn't be able to see you again. You didn’t know that you were his last thought before he was shot in the head.

#scream #scream movies #scream 6 #billy loomis x female reader #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you

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charlesslut16 · 10 months

Note

Hey can you please do Pierre gasly x innocent reader, she’s like innocent and quite naive making him really protective and possessive over her ? Could he also be obsessed with her so maybe abit dark ? Also if your comfortable with it

-moonstruck-

summary : moonstruck : unable to think or act normally, especially because of being in love. You were moonstruck by pierre gasly.

PAIRING : pierre gasly x fem!innocent!reader

WARNINGS : ANGST, possessive behavior, obsessive pierre, dark pierre, toxic relationship, hand collar, fluff

note : wrote thi post because pierre is on the podium!!!! Thrid place is absolutly awesome!! SO PROUD OF HIM. And i hope that you like this fic!

masterlist

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Since you were a teenage, you had been the innocent friend in your friend group. If there had been a sexual joke, you didn't understand it at first, or you needed someone to explain it.

And ever since you were a little girl, you had been naive. For example, you forgave your ex even after he had cheated on you because you thought that he had changed. Which he had not.

And this continued on until now. Being a grown 25-year-old woman with a 27-year-old boyfriend. Your boyfriend could not understand how you could be so innocent and naive.

But pierre gasly also loved it. He could protect you from any danger and feel like the hero. He was obsessed with protecting you. Well, he was obsessed with you. Possessive even.

Not the good obsessing, the possessive one. He was trying to keep your attention on him, but it will get priority if he felt like his grasp over your interests was slipping too far. As long as you were still interested in him.

But if he started to feel threatened, like, replaced, then he got a lot more… aggressive isn’t the right word. Possessive. He made sure that he does not leave your mind for too long. He makes sure he’s just… there.

Your friends saw that behavior and told you multiple times, but you ignored them, too in love with pierre. He had always told you that they were bad people who wanted to take you away from him. And you believed him. Every time.

Every time you believed him and lost more friends. Every and each time. Pierre made you feel so loved that you didn't even realize how many good people left you.

He had protected you in clubs, against family and friends, against every bad person. And that made you feel so loved. When you were with him, you were another person.

For example, one day you came home from one of your meeting with your friends. Pierre was standing in the kitchen, as you came into the house, pouting and being in your thoughts.

Pierre noticed the second you came in that you were not okay. So he took you into his arms and then sat down on a chair with you in his lap. Stroking your arms and assuring you that he was there for you.

“What's wrong, mon amour?”

“My friends told me that I should break up with you because you are possessive with me and that I should just find another man. And I just said that I love you and that you are just protecting me.”

As he heard those words, his jaw tightened and locked. The fact that you were still staying with him, made him smile. He had you wrapped around his fingers. You were his girlfriend! His.

“Look, baby, I told you that they would want to steal you away from me. You need to distance yourself from them, they are bad for you. The only person that you need is me, you know that, right?”

“I know, pierre, I can't understand how I could believe them over you.”

“You're mine. Yes? There will never be another man besides me.” He asked, biting your neck, making you squirm and whine as Pierre pulls away, licking the bite mark.

“Yes, I'm yours.” You assured him, hands tangling in his curly hair as he hugged you tighter to him and kissing up your collarbone and neck up to your ear and cheek until he kissed your lips.

Another time was when you were with your friends, talking about your boyfriends until one of your friends warned you about pierre and you being annoyed.

“How can you be so naive!? Pierre may love you, but he only wants you for himself until you have no one else than him. He is obsessed with you, in another way than good.”

Your other friends agreed, but you just rolled your eyes. What they said was total bullshit. Pierre loved and protected you from bad people who wanted to bad things to you.

The other time was that pierre couldn't reach you and panicked.

“Y/n?” He called into your shared house, and when he didn't receive a reply, he bolted into your bedroom. He froze seeing you on the bed holding a coffee mug.

“Ma magnifique fille. Why didn't you answer my calls?” He snapped loudly, caught your attention as you smiled up at him, while taking a sip from your coffee mug. My gorgeous girl

“I'm sorry, Pierre, I was listening to some music. Didn't even hear your calls.” Pierre ran his hand through his hair and sat next to you on the bed. He was settled after he yanked you into his lap.

“You should answer me when I call for you, princess.” You just nodded and leaned back into his chest, relaxed into his warm hands running over your body.

“Why are you being so protective?” Pierre's hands stopped abrupt, trying to think of how to answer your question. Leaning forward, he kissed the back of your neck, wrapped around the front and turned you to look at him.

“You're mine. My girlfriend. I'm protective of what belongs to me. I'm protective because the thought of someone taking you or leaving me drives me crazy. All I do is for you. For your safety.” He whispered each sentence, he moved closer till you were mouth-to-mouth.

“Are you mine?”

“Mhm.” You whined, grounded your hips down to get some pressure, but you got none.

“Words, Y/n. I want to hear you say it.” Pierre growled, hand tightening on your throat.

“I'm yours, Pierre. I'll always be yours.” You gasp, feeling dizzy from the grip on your throat. Pierre was always careful when it came to holding your throat and where. He never wanted to hurt you and learned how to do this safely and how to give you pleasure from it.

So to say this, pierre is very possessive of you and obsessed with you.

#f1 #formula one #f1 fluff #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #pierre gasly f1 #f1 angst #dutch gp 2023 #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly angst #pierre gasly blurb #pierre gasly drabble #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

I cannot get over hard shelled detective eren and his pretty, eccentric P.I. rival turned girlfriend! An iconic duo me thinks 😫

cw: black!fem reader, sexual content, mean eren, just a lil thought while I finish up my next commission

detective eren! is a notorious asshole, around the city and the force but he’s the best at his job. Top graduate in the academy and highly decorated at only 27 years old.

detective eren! solves almost any case he’s put on but he doesn’t work well with others, not even his three partners he’s been assigned.

detective eren! who finds himself at the scene of a gruesome crime one day is quick to pick out all inconsistencies and evidence, thinking he has it in the bag. He wastes no time directing all the officers and giving orders.

“Get this down to the lab, have them run prints and tell them I want it by this afternoon.”

detective eren! who’s in the midst of interviewing witnesses is shocked when he hears another voice doing the exact same thing but it’s not one he recognizes. It’s when he turns to see a woman in a pink plaid skirt, white turtleneck and thigh high boots so he figures you to be a reporter or inquisitive mind, getting in the way.

“Excuse me, this is a crime scene. I need you to wait with the other press.” “Oh, I’m no reporter, sweetheart. I’m (y/n) (l/n)..private detective. It’s nice to meet you.”

detective eren! who’s rarely if ever swayed by anyone or impressed by anything is immediately taken aback by your presence. The larger than life personality and pretty face..he’s captivated. Even so, he has a job to do.

detective eren! who finds himself stumped on this latest case frustrated when he can’t figure out the missing piece of the puzzle decides to do the one thing he can’t stand: interact with people to get more information.

detective eren! cross paths with private investigator (y/n) once more when he starts questioning people down at a infamous club but gets no response.

“Sweetheart, you’re not going to get any info talking to people like that. This is the Southside. Know who you’re dealing with before you come demanding things, pretty boy detective.” I don’t need some little girl playing Sherlock lecturing me. Sit this one out.”

detective eren! who gets so flustered when you one up him in solving the case and it keeps occurring. So much so, his reputation as a detective is brought into question.

detective eren! who can’t understand why someone so silly and whimsical is so good at this decided to confront you at your office one day.

“I want to know how you did it. What the hell did you do to solve this case?! There’s no way you can keep beating me!”

detective eren! who’s always so tense and serious doesn’t know how to handle your calm demeanor, especially when you hand him the missing piece of evidence that he had discarded as useless. But you don’t rub it in his face, rather..you offer to help him! But he’s stubborn as hell.

“It was right under your nose this entire time, pretty boy detective.”

detective eren! finds himself caving when you brush the side of his face, run your finger down his chest and bat those big brown eyes at him. With that sweet angelic voice. It’s easy to see why you’re able to get information out of anyone.

“I don’t see why we have to be at odds, sweetheart. We’re doing the same job so why not work together, hmm? Can we be friends, Detective Jaeger?”

detective eren! can’t resist you any longer finally caves and gives into your charm. In more ways than one…

detective eren! who can’t keep his eyes or hands off of you as you corner him against the desk in your office. Knowing that he’s watched you strut around in those cute little outfits that show off your body, he can’t help but to pull those platinum blonde butterfly locs that compliment that beautiful brown skin so well as he bends you over and hits you from the back.

“God, you’re far less annoying when you’re moaning my name.”

detective eren! who realizes he can’t quit you even if he wanted to now, always looks forward to seeing you on the scene of the crime, even if your hyperactive ass works his last nerve. But he knows you’ll always come through when he needs you.

“Bestie, I got a new lead for you. Wanna hear it?” “I made you come four times last night, (y/n). Do not call me bestie.”

detective eren! finally found someone to be his partner in crime and in life.

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watermelonsugacry · 2 years

Note

Hey! Hope everything’s going good! Was thinking if bandmember did anything like the vanity fair Billie eilish videos when they watch back all those interviews. Would love to see how far our girl has come

YN YLN: Same Interview, The Sixth Year | Vanity Fair

A/N: Christmas break is coming up so been busy but I also have some stuff coming out soon for your lovies! 💚

SINCE 2010 masterlist

“Year six, baby,” YN smirks at the camera. “Alright—” She pulls on the tops of her pink sheer opera gloves that match her pink corset before clapping her hands together. “—Let’s do this. ‘Ello, m’name is YN YLN. Today’s date is October 18, 2022.”

How old are you?

“I’m 23 years old.”

“I’m 24.”

“25.”

“26.”

“27.”

“M’28 years old,” YN kisses her teeth. “M’pushing 30, mate.”

How many followers do you have on Instagram?

“I have 573K followers on Instagram.”

“8.7M.”

“60.9M.”

“94.8M.”

“106M.”

“I currently have 287 million followers on Instagram. Dunno why I have so many; I make a lot of shit posts.”

What is your most liked picture on Instagram?

2017:

“My most liked picture is one of me and the boys huddled up backstage after our last performance together with 654K likes.”

2019:

“It is a picture of me in my home recording studio with about 5 million likes.”

2022:

“It’s currently one of me photo dumps on tour. The first picture on that one is a selfie with Harry taking a bite out of m’cheek. This one has 60,036,819 likes. Which is way too many likes if m’being honest.”

How are you feeling today?

2022:

“M’feeling really good. I always look forward to these interviews. I try me best not to look at the old videos more than once so that I can best prepare meself for my current answers, yeh know? But I love that I get to do this every year. There’s a lot of like, time lapse compilation videos on meself on YouTube that show off how far I’ve come over the years but these I feel are the least cringy ones,” YN lets out a laugh.

Biggest thing to happen in your career?

2021:

“I won a Grammy for producer of the year?” YN furrows her eyebrows as she juts her chin out. “Wha’ is life? That’s insane. The highlight of me career. Hands down.”

2022:

“It’s still the highlight of me career. And I got nominated for it again for Grammys 2023. To even be nominated and be the only woman in this category a second year in a row is just super fookin’ wild. Um...I got seven other Grammy nominations for next year. I’m also on tour again—a world tour—and it’s definitely me favorite thing to do aside from making the actual music. Harry’s new album that we’ve been workin’ on for over the past two-ish years finally came out earlier this year. I’m dropping me third album before the year is up. So many good things have happened this year that it’s honestly too long to list.”

How often do you get recognized in public?

2017:

“Pretty often,” She nods her head, a chuckle pushing past her lips. “It’s pretty hard to just go out and grab a bite to eat without getting surrounded.”

2020:

“Public? Who is she? I dunno her,” YN teases. “It’s pretty rare that I’ll go out nowadays and the masks only help so much with trying to be lowkey on the street on stuff like tha’.”

2022:

“I have to admit, v’gotten a lot better at being discreet when going out in public,” She nods her head with a knowing smile. “I think I was just so used to not being ‘allowed’ to go outside or if I did I wouldn’t enjoy meself because I knew I was gonna get recognized by paps. It was really hard for baby YN there because of how everything started. Everything I did was in the public eye and no matta’ what I did, me fans always knew where I was at all times it seemed,” YN hums.

“I love me fans and I love the times when we happen to see each other on the street, we can have like a genuine conversation instead of shoving yeh phone in me face and putting yeh hands on me without me permission. I’ve had the most amazing conversations with fans like tha’ those moments are super special to me.

But in all honesty, they need to get hired by the FBI or somethin’. Knowin’ where m’gonna be before I even do,” She huffs out a chuckle.

What’s most important to you right now?

2020:

“The relationships within me life. I think this year has really made me recognize that. Whether those relationships are with me mum, me boyfriend, me tour team, me dancers, the fans—they’re all super important to me. Makin’ sure that we’re all safe and healthy—mentally and physically—now more than ever.”

2022:

“All of which are still very important to me. I think v’also learned to stay in touch with me emotions. I think in an industry like this, it can be very easy to just put on a mask or passively go through events to maintain an image. If I’m doing something—wether it be somethin’ major or not, I want to allow m’self to be in the moment.

I did a show recently in Austin and...” The crease between her eyebrows disappear and smile etches itself on her lips at the memory, “I was singing POV and I just stopped singing and the crowd took over. I quite literally just stood there, took out me earpieces and just listened to a stadium full of people sing my song back to me. It made me feel so...it made me feel really good, really happy.”

Do you feel pressure?

2017:

“I do yeah,” YN nods with a sincere furrow of her eyebrows. “But I have been feeling pressure for the majority of my career so I’m mostly used to it by now; It doesn't bother me as much anymore.”

2022:

“Of my fookin’ word,” She throws her head back. “I can’t even—like even the way I spoke, man. Can yeh hear that? Like, I was still in the mindset of having to change the way I talk, tweak me accent and act all prim and proper,” YN points a finger into her mouth as she sticks out her tongue.

“And what a lie. Like of course that pressure bothered me still! I was fresh into the hiatus, just dropped me first solo album, about to do a world tour by meself for the first time. I was dealin’ with so much that I remember the pressure of everything was just...it felt that I was gonna be squished into a pancake. Being in the band and being as big as we were, there was an immense amount of pressure for everything to keep going well; everything seemed like it had to get bigger and bigger and if I didn’t live up to that standard as a solo artist, it was the end of the world to me.”

“I do still feel some pressure but definitely not to that extent anymore. It’s more of like, a good pressure, I’d say. It keeps me from resting on me laurels and it makes me continue to work hard to improve meself. Like, just because I won an award for produce of the year doesn’t mean that m’gonna let it get to me head and just not work to better meself in that craft.

But I have to admit that a lot of that pressure has been lifted off of me from me fans. They’ve just continued to give me their unconditional love and support—whether it be for a year, 2 years, 12 years—m’just super grateful that they just allow me to be me, flaws and all.”

What did you eat today?

2020:

“I ate some grilled chicken—that I made all by myself—with a side of some beans,” YN giggles as she knows by now that the fans have been having a laugh about her boyfriend’s baked beans comment over interviews in quarantine.

2021:

“I had a chicken caesar salad bowl that I probably put way too much dressing on to be considered healthy anymore,” She chuckles, playing with the chunky chain sitting on her collarbones.

2022:

“I actually had an amazing chicken wrap this morning. Just the right amount of protein and yumminess,” She pats her tummy with a content smile. “Yeh girl likes chicken, what can I say?”

Are you aware of people when you're playing?

2019:

“I think so yeah. It’s crazy because for me, it’s scarier to play in front of 6 people than 60 thousand people. But on the other hand, the noisiness of big crowds is super calming to me. I can’t really explain how. Like right before m’gonna go on stage, I like to take out me ear-pieces and just listen to them scream...which now makes me sound like a serial killer of summ’wat,” YN’s shoulders bunch up to her ears as she giggles.

2022:

“I would say that m’more aware of the audience members now more than I ever have before. This current tour that m’on is probably the funnest tour so far and it’s really because of the fans. When m’on stage and when I’m performing, I make sure to look at the people in the audience, yeh know? Like, I can still remember when the band did our first stadium tour, I honestly couldn’t see anything; they were all just blurbed together.

But with this tour, I make sure to take the time during the show to talk with fans. And I make an effort to sing to them and look at them dancing in the pit, the outfits they recreate, the way some of them are just closing their eyes and just being in the moment. As a musician, to see people come to me show and to see how they create this environment where everyone can have fun and let loose and just have a good time is just super amazin’. It’s a really indescribable feeling.”

Are you more confident this year compared to last year?

2018:

“From last year to now? 100%,” She answers with ease, leaning back into her seat. “I think this is the most confident I’ve ever felt, I think. M’not too worried about what people are sayin’ about me because let’s face it, they are always saying something. So if yeh like me, cool. If yeh don’t, cool.”

2022:

“She’s not wrong. 2018 YN’s ego was pretty up there. Granted, me ego is still growing and sensitive so—” YN shamelessly shrugs and puts her hands up in defense. “—Take tha’ as you will. But I definitely feel more confident and secure in who I am as a person and as an artist. When the boys and I went our separate ways musically, I had a hard time sort of, figuring out what I like and the kind of music I wanted to make for meself. Even the way I thought about fashion, I knew people saw me in skirts and things like that but I remember entertaining the idea of if I wanted to continue that as a security blanket of sorts.

When I was in the band, I took things with a grain of salt and m’very happy that I’ve kept that with me.”

Biggest rumor about you?

2017:

“That I’ve slept with each of the 1D boys,” YN lets out a nervous laugh. “Which is gross because they’re all like my brothers.”

2018:

“Where do I even begin?” YN blows out a raspberry. “I’ve been gettin’ this one for literally years now but that m’dating my old bandmate, Harry—which is getting really old at this point,” She scrunches up her nose with a roll of her eyes.

2022:

YN bursts out laughing as she watches her old self answer, knowing full well that during that time period she was in the midst of her on-and-off relationship with Harry.

She tilts her head to the side with a quick raise of her eyebrows, “I mean, she’s not wrong. V’been getting that question/comment asked since we were on the XFactor. And believe it or not, I still get asked that question. I just answer it differently now,” She cheekily brings her shoulder to her chin.

What do you hate being asked?

2018:

“That. The ‘who are you dating?’ question. For a long time, I just had to suck it up and just answer the question but I don’t have to answer if I don’t want to, y’know? Also, I’m my own person,” She begins to list things off of her fingers, “I’m not someone’s arm candy, m’not so-and-so’s new girl. I’m YN YLN and if all you ask me is if I’m dating anyone rather than me music, you don’t deserve my time.”

2022:

YN drops her jaw and the corners of her lips tug up in a smile.

“A feisty little thing she is,” She chuckles. “But no truer words have ever escaped me mouth. She’s right, and I still stand by that. 100%. My career is not based around a guy or who m’dating. That’s not to say I hate talking about Harry—I love to talk about him but don’t make it the whole point of the interview, yeh know?”

Craziest fan moment?

2021:

“Me first show back on tour after being held back in 2020 was really heartwarming. It a stadium show—not intimidating at all for me first show back—” YN sarcastically comments. “—so there were three levels of seating: the pit, the middle section, and then the top. While I was singing, the audience did a fan project where on the top section held up lights to read welcome back, and then the middle said we missed you, and the pit held up pieces of paper saying we love you. M’not even gonna lie, I was bawlin’ me eyes out. Like, just thinking of the amount of work that went into that...” She shakes her head in disbelief.

2022:

“I did a show last week in LA and at the barricade, I saw this lineup of these 5 girls wearing my current and past tour outfits. I have seen some really good recreation of me fits before and it was honestly like a copy and paste, I was so shocked. After talking with them for a bit—now I don’t ever do this—but I invited them to come up on stage with me,” YN laughs.

“I suggested we ditch the choreography for Kiss Me More but they insisted they knew it and sure enough,” YN throws her hands with another laugh. “I almost hired them on the spot!”

Do you have a boyfriend?

2017:

“Um, no. I do not have a boyfriend. I’m just really focused on my music at the moment. That’s my boyfriend,” She lets out a chuckle.

2020:

YN playfully rolls her eyes and throws her hands up, “Well I’d be the biggest liar in the world if I said no.”

She huffs out a giggle as she refers to the entire world finding out about her secret relationship with Harry on New Years Eve of that year.

2021:

“I do have a boyfriend,” She smirks at the camera with a shrug of her shoulder, leaving it at that.

2022:

YN takes a second longer to answer this question and stares at the laptop screen with a fond smile. She technically doesn’t have a boyfriend anymore, but will she let them know that? Nope.

“Well, you’d all be happy to know that Harry and I are still very much together. Still got that boy locked down, ladies,” She playfully winks at the camera with a click of her tongue.

What makes you happy in a relationship?

2022:

“I like quality time. From staying inside 24/7 in 2020 to easing back into my busy schedule made H and I realize that it was important to set some time aside for ourselves, just the two of us. Like, we don’t even have to be talking just as long as we’re together during the business of it all. And...” A smirk grows on her lips, “One of me love languages is physical touch. It definitely wasn't on the list before so you can probably guess who made me this way but yeah. And music, of course, that’s me main form of love language. Whether we’re listening to good music, making it, singing it—anything to do with it m‘in love.”

Describe your style in 3 words.

2017:

“Figuring it out.”

2018:

“No more skirts,” The 24-year-old rolls her eyes.

2019:

“Whatever is comfy,” She laughs as she wraps her light green cardigan tighter over herself.

2020:

“Trying new things.”

2021:

“Trousers and blazers.”

2022:

She tilts her head as she bites her lip, looking up as she thinks about how to compactly frame her style now. As she says the next three words, she holds up her hand to count it off on her fingers, “Pretty in pink. And 2018 YN was a lie. I still fancy a skirt every now and then.”

Biggest thing you’re struggling with?

2019:

“I think, just being honest with meself in terms of how I feel. I think I struggle a lot with allowing meself to feel the way I feel about certain things,” Or about a certain someone. “And that it's okay to feel those things. I know, super detailed,” She chuckles.

2022:

“Yeah, 2019 YN was certainly going through some personal issues. S’crazy to look back at these videos and remember wha’ I was feelin’ during that time. S’pretty crazy. I can say that v’grown immensely from that time of my life which is very comforting to know. It’s still hard for me, don’t get me wrong, but allowing myself to feel things like love or sadness or happiness is something that I’m subconsciously reminding myself to do.

I think the biggest thing that m’stuggling now with is to have check ins with meself. It’s safe to say that m’back to my busy, hectic, never-ending schedule so I want to take a breather every now and then. It can be a whole day, a whole 20 minutes, just a pause to check in with my mind, me body, me spirt to make sure m’okay and then be off to a career that I love very dearly.”

What advice would you give your future self?

2017:

“Have some fun and enjoy this new chapter that you’re venturing onto,” She nods with a smile.

2019:

“I would say to allow yourself to feel uncomfortable. Step out of your comfort zone and take that leap of faith.”

2022:

“What a genetic piece of advice for that first year, eh?” YN chuckles with a smirk, “Enjoy this new chapter you're venturing onto like yeh can hear how professional I wanted to sound,” She playfully rolls her eyes with a sigh. “I would say that 2019 YN’s advice is a good one though. It’s a good reminder to not play things safe all the time. As a narcissist, I want everything to be perfect, especially me music, so to be in the studio and not fall back to me old habits of what I think sounds good, try something different, yeh know? I like that a lot, actually.”

This is my mum...

2017:

“Everyone, say hello to Penny,” YN proudly presents as her stepmum comes up to her side, placing a hand on the back of her chair as she waves at the camera.

“‘Ello, lovelies,” Penny beams.

2018:

“Penny!” YN smiles brightly. When she wiggles her fingers towards her stepmum the sound of her rings clinking together can be heard.

When Penny walks up to her stepdaughter’s side, she puts her hands on top of YN’s red leather jacket to give her shoulders a squeeze.

“Hi baby,” Her stepmum gives a warm smile and gently presses her chin to YN’s temple.

2019:

Penny tucks her long, black hair behind her ears before wrapping her arms around her stepdaughter’s shoulders.

“I love you, my baby,” She says into her hair before planting a kiss on her head.

“I love youuu so much,” YN sings as she holds onto her stepmum’s forearms over her chest.

2020:

“Y’already know what time it is,” YN dances in her seat, her arms already extended out by her side. She lets out a laugh as she watches Penny shimmy her way to her stepdaughter’s side. The tight high waisted jeans show off her curvy, fit figure and a mask covers the lower half of her face.

“It’s Penny time,” Her stepmum throws finger guns at the camera.

2021:

“Come over ‘ere, mum,” YN nods her head over to Penny. Once she’s close enough, she takes a hold of her stepmum’s hand and pulls her over for her to sit on her lap, wrapping her arms over her torso, “Love you.”

“I love you more, baby,” Penny smiles as she leans her head back to rest beside YN’s.

2022:

“This is me mumma,” YN smiles warmly before cooing out a chuckle. “Wha’ happened?” She questions when she sees Penny walk over to her side with glossy eyes.

“Sorry, m’sorry,” She chuckles, dabbing her under eyes with the sides of her index fingers. “S’just really fookin’ cool to see how far you’ve come. Like look at her—” Penny points to the laptop screen that has 2017 YN on display. “—me lil’ baby.”

“Mum!” YN laughs when Penny wraps her arms around her daughter’s head and pulls it to her chest.

Taglist:

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 11 months

Text

Memoriam | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: depictions of abuse, pedophilia, talk of murder, panic attacks...

Author's note: This is a rewrite of S04E07 Memoriam because I'd had this idea of reader/OC being Spencer's best friend from Las Vegas and that they'd grown up together and were geniuses together, so when I saw this episode, it kind fit...

Words: 13,947

“Detective Y/L/N,” the captain of the North Las Vegas Police Department approached the Y/H/C woman at her desk. The woman swiveled in her chair, looking up at the man she called her boss. “Can you get the file of that petty arson on my desk by noon?”

“Sure thing, boss,” she nodded and swiveled back, returning to the very file she was just finishing up.

Y/N Y/L/N was the youngest detective at the Las Vegas Police Department. At just 22 years old, the girl had joined the department with three doctorates on her name and a BA in Sociology. Now, at 27 years of age, she was the most trusted, the most vetted detective in the department. Her co-workers trusted her more than anyone, all except Detective Hyde.

The man had known her since she was just a little girl. She was best friends with the son of one of his best friends. Maybe he didn’t like her because he still thought of her as the little girl she used to be. Or maybe he didn’t like her because she was a girl.

Just as she began focusing on her file again, a voice she knew all-too-well snapped her back out of that focus.

“Hi. I’m Special Agent Spencer Reid with the FBI,” the voice sounded.

Y/N turned around in the span of a nanosecond, her eyes locking on the source of said sound. There he was. Tall and beautiful as ever. The boy she had grown up with. Her non-biological-twin. Her best friend.

Slowly, she got up and approached the man she hadn’t seen in a couple of years. He was talking to one of her co-workers, but quickly got distracted when she spoke up. “Dr. Spencer Reid, as I live and breathe.”

His eyes snapped up, surprise and amazement written all over his face as he saw her. “Detective Y/N Y/L/N,” he scoffed in surprise. “Wow, it’s been–”

“Six years and forty-five days?” she cut him off with the exact number of years and days she had gone without seeing him. “Not that I’m counting, or anything.” She let out a small chuckle as he did the same.

Y/N Y/L/N and Spencer Reid had met when they were still in nappies. Their mothers had become fast friends when they were in labor together and gave birth to their kids on the exact same day, at the exact same time. Ever since that day, the two women have been inseparable, as did their kids. Both of them grew up to be geniuses with IQ’s through the roof. They went to school together, graduated high school at twelve years old and went on to graduate from the academy together.

While both of them applied for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI, only one of them got hired while the other settled for a life in Vegas with the Police Department there.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” she then asked when he didn’t move or say anything.

Spencer seemingly snapped out of a daze as he made a beeline for his oldest friend. “Do you remember Riley Jenkins?” he asked.

“Wasn’t he your imaginary friend?” she asked, but he quickly shook his head.

“That’s what I thought, but he actually existed. Can you maybe get everything the LVPD has on the 1984 murder of Riley?”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “He was murdered?”

“Yeah… And I think I know who might’ve done it.”

With a nod of her head, Y/N got to work. She researched every inch of the department until she finally came up with the files from the case in a cardboard box, along with Detective Hyde, who apparently worked the case.

“That was a rough one,” he sighed as he set the box down on Y/N’s desk.

“Did you work the case?” Spencer asked while his best friend started looking through some of the files. Memories flashed before her eyes from the time she went to Spencer’s little leagues games and practices.

“Yeah,” Detective Hyde replied. “I was three of four blocks away when the call came in on the radio. My first kid. You don’t forget those.”

Y/N looked up to notice Spencer’s sad expression, telling her he’d had his own ‘first kid’ at some point in his career.

Instead of pressing further on the sentiment, Spencer continued by asking another question. “Let me ask you this, were there any suspects?”

Something told Y/N he was fishing for a specific answer, something he hadn’t told her yet.

“We looked at the family initially. The dad, older brother,” Hyde explained.

“Makes sense. The boy was found in his own basement, right?” Spencer asked.

Hyde sighed. “Yeah. After a while the family got defensive, stopped cooperating…”

“Like the JonBenét case?” Y/N chimed in as the thought popped into her head.

The older man nodded his head in agreement. “I never liked them for it anyway,” he added. “I always figured it was somebody outside the home.” That seemed to elicit some kind of emotion from Spencer, though Y/N couldn’t decipher what it was just yet.

“What’s the Bureau’s interest in the case?” Y/N then asked.

Spencer’s eyes flitted to hers before focusing on the box in front of him. “Uh, research.” There was something he wasn’t telling them. Something important. He wasn’t here with the FBI, Y/N figured quickly. He was here of his own volition.

“Is this everything?” he then asked, diverting the subject.

“There might be another box down in Records,” Hyde responded, his confused eyes darting from the young agent to the young detective.

Spencer nodded his head. “I’d like to see it all, if you don’t mind.”

Nodding his head, Hyde left the two young adults alone to go and get the files they requested. As soon as the man was out of earshot, Y/N turned to the man she once knew as a kid. “What are you hiding from me, Dr. Reid?” she asked in a soft whisper.

Spencer didn’t answer and opened one of the files, showing a picture of the young boy to Y/N. “Don’t you remember him?” he asked. The kid in the picture gave the camera a soft smile. He was wearing a red Rovers T-Shirt and a red cap that hid his brown curls.

“From your little leagues games,” she stated as she grabbed the picture. “He was a little older than us, wasn’t he?”

Humming, Spencer nodded his head. “Yeah, he was six. Dad was his coach. He figured playing ball would make me normal.”

“But you aren’t normal,” Y/N said with a soft smile. “You’re extraordinary.” She tucked a strand of his hair that had fallen on his forehead behind his ear, but then quickly pulled away when she realized what she had done.

Spencer’s smile mirrored hers and he opened his mouth to say something, but Detecitve Hyde returned with the rest of the files, stopping the twenty-seven year old from doing so. Instead, he grabbed the files from Hyde, placed them inside the box in front of him and shut it before picking it up.

“It was nice seeing you again, Y/N/N,” he said with a smile and turned.

It hurt watching him walk away yet again. It had hurt not seeing or hearing from him for almost seven years. Having him here, close to her, felt right. Watching him walk into the precinct felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders.

“Wait!” she called, stopping him in his tracks. “You need any help?”

Spencer turned back around and shook his head slightly. “No, that’s okay.”

As he turned back around, Y/N sighed and rushed forward, stepping in front of him so he couldn’t move. “You’re really just gonna walk out here and not talk to me again for the next seven years? Because that’s not something I can handle. I can tell you’re stressed. I can tell something’s bugging you about this case and I wanna help. I’m your best friend, Spence.” The entire time she talked, she looked at him, trying to gauge any reaction from his face. “And I don’t know if you remember, but I did also almost get into the BAU if another genius hadn’t rightfully taken the spot instead.”

Spencer sighed. “Y/N/N…”

“Don’t ‘Y/N/N’ me, Spence. I wanna help. So let me help.”

Another sigh elicited from the boy in front of her. “Fine. When do you get off?”

“Now,” she smiled, lying through her teeth. “Lemme get changed and I’ll join you, yeah?”

With a nod of approval from her best friend, Y/N went back to her desk and grabbed the finished file from her desk, dropping it off at the captain’s desk before making it into the locker room where she quickly changed into jeans and a top.

The two of them headed down to Fountainview, the hotel Spencer was staying at. The whole car ride down there, the two friends filled one another in on their lives. It was a pleasant conversation as though no time had passed. Spencer was still the one person she would feel safest with. He’d been her solace for the past twenty-seven years. Seven years apart didn’t change that.

“And then I just kicked him in the balls and left the club,” Y/N finished her story with a giggle as she and Spencer walked down the hallway on the fourth floor to his room. “It was–” she cut herself off when she heard a sound coming from the door they’d just stopped at. Judging from the look Spencer gave her, this was not supposed to be happening.

Slowly but surely, Spencer unlocked the door and walked in first, Y/N following closely behind, just in case she’d have to protect him. Inside the room, the tv was playing reruns of some sort of soap opera Y/N didn’t know the name of, and in front of said tv were two men, both older than Spencer and herself. One of them had to be in his mid-thirties while the other seemed a good twenty years older than them.

“What are you guys doing here?” Spencer asked, telling Y/N that he did know them.

“Hey,” the younger one greeted as Y/N and Spencer both moved further into the room. “What’s it look like we’re doing?” he asked, pointing at the tv.

Spencer moved to set down the box of files on the high stool next to him. “Breaking into my room and watching Days of Our Lives?”

“Young and the Restless,” the older man corrected before turning the tv off.

As Spencer put his messenger bag down, the two men looked up at the younger adults in the room. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane back to D.C.?” Spencer asked.

“And you’re supposed to be hanging out with your mom,” the older said before his eyes darted over to Y/N. “And I don’t think that’s your mom…”

Spencer looked back at Y/N, who gave the guys a shy wave. “That’s Detective Y/N Y/L/N. She’s my childhood best friend, we went to school together.”

“Didn’t you graduate at age twelve?” the younger one of the men asked.

With a grin, Y/N replied, “So did I.”

“Y/N/N, these are Derek Morgan and David Rossi, my co-workers,” Spencer quickly introduced them, pointing at each of them as he said their respective names.

“Nice to meet you, agents,” Y/N said politely, smiling.

Derek smiled back at Y/N, “You too, sweetheart.” The man had a flirty demeanor about him. The way he said the words, the way he looked at her, … All of it just told her that she shouldn’t take the words to heart. It was just how he was.

Then, Derek’s eyes moved over to the box on the chair to which he pointed. “Riley Jenkins?” he asked.

Spencer sniffled before stuffing his hands in his pockets, something he did to keep himself from fidgeting too much, Y/N knew. “Uh, no. That’s not… That’s actually not why I’m here. I–”

“He wanted to see me,” Y/N chimed in, noticing how the man was trying to talk himself out of it.

Whatever this Riley Jenkins case was to him, his co-workers couldn’t know.

Derek’s eyes flitted from Y/N to Spencer and back. “You don’t have to lie for him, sweetheart.”

“She’s not lying. That-that’s why I’m–”

“Reid,” Derek quickly interrupted as he placed his soda can down on the table between him and David. “Come on, man, who do you think you’re talking to?” He got up from the chair and approached Spencer and Y/N. “I know what this has been doing to you.”

David was next to get up from his spot. “Let us help,” he said.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. His co-workers only wanted what was best for him, she could tell. The fact that they stayed behind in Las Vegas, knowing their co-worker needed their help, was very telling to her.

“Maybe together we can find out who killed him,” David added.

“I think I might already know,” Spencer responded with a fearful tremor in his voice that only Y/N caught onto. Her eyebrows furrowed the more she heard him talk about it and the more she watched him and his behavior.

“So, tell us about the suspect,” Derek encouraged.

Y/N watched his shoulder tense ever so slightly. “The truth is, I don’t know anything about him.”

The puzzle pieces clicked in Y/N’s mind. His sudden interest in the case, the lie about the bureau’s interest in the case, the tension in his shoulders… She knew everything about Spencer’s life and the one thing neither of them knew very much about was the reason why he was doing this in the first place. “Your dad…” Y/N whispered.

The agents exchanged some glances before Spencer started unloading the case files from the box and spreading them out on the bed with Y/N helping him out.

“Before we go down this road, you need to be sure,” David pointed out, worry evident in his voice.

“He’s right,” Derek chimed in. “Some rocks don’t need looking under.”

Y/N looked up at Spencer as he sighed. “My mind is sending me signals. I can’t ignore them any more.”

“Mixed signals,” Y/N muttered, capturing everyone’s attention. “That’s what the subconscious is all about, you know that better than anyone, Spence.”

Nodding, Derek continued, “Reid, your dad left you.” Y/N noticed Spencer’s shoulders tensing ever so slightly. “You take it to the Freudian extreme, you could say that he killed your childhood.”

Y/N’s heart broke a little at the memory of Spencer’s dad leaving. Though he never really talked about it with her, she knew how much it had hurt. She was there for it all. She was there to pick up the pieces of his broken heart and glue them back together in any way she could.

“It could explain a dream in which you see him as a murderer,” David noted.

Spencer shook his head. “I’ve come this far, I’m not going back.”

His two co-workers exchanged glances once more before the four of them got to work. As each of them grabbed a file to look over, they gathered in the living area to go over the case together. While Spencer and David occupied each of the lounge chairs, Derek paced the length between it and Y/N was perched on the armrest of the chair Spencer was sitting on.

“Riley was six at the time. His father, Lou Jenkins, was supposed to pick him up from T-ball practice at four, but he got delayed at work, prompting Riley to walk the three blocks home,” Spencer started to explain the case.

Y/N nodded her head, already pretty familiar with the case. “When his mother got home in the early evening, she found him dead in the basement,” she continued.

“So the offender came to the house after the boy arrived home,” Rossi noted, his eyes flicking up to the younger agent and his best friend.

“Or picked him up on the way there,” Spencer offered his two cents.

Derek stopped pacing for a moment as he spoke up. “Coaxes Riley into the basement, where he sexually assaults him.”

A shiver ran down Y/N’s back as she thought of the boy she once knew.

“The boy’s mouth was taped shut,” David read from his file.

“Symbolic,” Y/N answered. “The perp fears Riley will talk, panics, weighs his options, …”

“Decides to make certain that he’ll never talk,” Derek finished her thought before sitting down on one of the chairs to her right.

David then continued, “He finds a knife in the fishing gear under the stairs, stabs Riley nine times in the chest. Stuffs him behind the washing machine.” The older man closed the file with a sigh.

“So, the UnSub’s a white male in his late twenties to early thirties,” Spencer pondered.

Y/N turned to him for a moment. “UnSub?”

“Unknown Subject,” he quickly whispered, reminding her of the theory they had seen when they were in the academy together. Having not used the term in over seven years, a girl can sometimes forget. Unlike Spencer, she didn’t have an eidetic memory.

“So that means we’re looking for someone in his fifties,” David spitballed.

“And he likely knew the boy, maybe even been to his house,” Derek went on.

“Neighbor,” David finished, having Derek nod his head in agreement.

Finding her best friend a little too quiet for his own good, Y/N looked down to find him looking at a map of North Las Vegas. It was clear his brain was picking up on something but the thought hadn’t quite finished processing yet.

“Spence?” she asked, capturing his attention. “What is it?”

“My family lived less than a half mile from the Jenkinses,” he said, then pointed at a house a couple squares away from his. “And so did yours.”

“Do you think your dad knew the boy?” Rossi questioned, brows furrowed before he glanced over to Y/N. “What about yours?”

The girl shook her head. “Mine’s been dead since before I was born. Died in combat while my mother was pregnant with me.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer then answered his co-worker’s question. “My memory is…” he rubbed his eye in frustration. “The lack of recall just reinforces how little I knew about him.”

A sigh heaved Derek’s chest as he turned to his youngest colleague. “Reid, we’re gonna have to track him down. You do know that.”

“We should talk to my mother first, neighbors, get their impressions,” Spencer suggested instead, clearly not ready for a reunion with his father just yet. Noticing the tension in his shoulders, Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly to let him know she was there for him.

“Reid, I don’t need to tell you that this signature was need-based and sexual in nature,” Rossi sounded almost reassuring. “The man we’re looking for is a pedophile.” Spencer’s jaw tensed. “So, I’ll ask you again, are you sure you want to go down this road?”

Derek and Y/N glanced over to Spencer before the guy got up with slight hesitation in his movements. “I’m gonna talk to my mother first.” He turned to the Y/H/C girl next to him. “You wanna come?”

Nodding her head, Y/N followed behind Spencer as the two of them made their way to the sanitarium where his mother was a patient. Y/N had been there a few times to visit Diana without Spencer knowing. After all, she’d been the one to push Spencer to send his mother there when they were eighteen.

“Oh, Y/N/N!” Diana greeted in excitement, seemingly happier to see the girl than her own son. “I’m so happy to see you again. Did you read the book I gave you last time?”

Spencer turned his head towards his best friend in confusion. “Last time?” he asked.

Decidedly ignoring him, Y/N nodded her head in response to Diana’s question. “I did. I absolutely loved it. Just like you told me I would,” she told her with a soft smile, placing a hand on her arm. “Hey, how about a game of scrabble, huh?” She motioned to the board game in front of them.

Diana offered her a smile as the three of them started playing. The young woman could feel her best friend shifting in his seat, his brain whirring at thousands of miles per hour. He was spiraling, anxious to ask his questions.

“Mom…” he then finally started as Y/N was placing her letters on the board to form a word. “Can I ask you some questions about Dad? I’m having trouble remembering.”

“Quixotry,” Diana read Y/N’s word. “That’s a great word, Y/N/N.” The woman beamed at the girl before turning to her son. “What do you wanna know?” She was now focused on her turn, trying to find a good word.

“Did he like to be around children?” Spencer asked carefully.

Diana looked up from the board. “Children? Well, yes.” She returned her gaze to the game a little too quickly. Something was telling Y/N that the woman she had called her second mom was hiding something. “If it were up to him, you’d have a house full of brothers and sisters.”

“You didn’t want more kids?” Y/N then asked, genuinely interested.

With a proud smile, Diana looked from the girl to her son. “Why mess with perfection?” She winked at Y/N with a smirk on her face. The young woman looked up at her best friend, who was gazing at his mother in admiration.

“Yeah, it was pretty perfect on the first go,” Y/N agreed. Her admission caused Spencer to tear his eyes away from his mother to land on her instead. The sparkle in his eyes still remained the same, even after seven years. Even after all these years, she still had to deny the butterflies in her stomach she got whenever he looked at her like that.

Shaking himself away from his thoughts, Spencer turned back to his mother. “What about other people’s children? How was he around them?”

“He was good with kids, I guess,” Diana responded. “He coached your Little League team.”

Y/N nodded her head. “I remember that, always trying to put him into normal activities.”

“I tried to tell him you’re not normal, you were exceptional,” Diana added to this, smiling up at her son. It was nice to hear the words she thought of Spencer come from his own mother. Though Spencer himself wasn’t really hearing it.

“Let me ask you this, Mom,” he said, shifting in his chair and pushing his hair back. “Did you ever get the feeling like, on his part, the marriage was just for show?”

“Spence,” Y/N hissed, wanting to keep him from hurting his own mother’s feelings.

However, Diana wasn’t too phased about the question. “These questions are very strange, Spencer. What is this about?” she asked instead.

“It’s about Riley Jenkins,” he said, almost tearfully.

“Riley Jenkins?” Diana asked. “I told you he was someone you made up.”

“He’s not, though, Diana,” Y/N told her softly, reaching for her hand. The woman looked at her with confusion in her eyes, begging her to explain what was going on.

“He was a real boy who lived in our neighborhood, and somebody killed him, and…” Spencer continued as his mother looked at him, allowing the words to simmer in her mind. “I don’t know, I think that Dad might have had something to do with it.”

Diana’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened. “He was real?”

“Yeah,” Y/N answered in a whisper, squeezing right back. “He was on that Little League team, too. With Spence. I-I remember going to the games and the practices with my mom to cheer him on.”

Y/N could hear Spencer sniffle, so with the hand she wasn’t holding Diana’s, she reached out for Spencer’s, holding both Reid’s hands tightly. There was nothing else they were going to get out of Diana and Y/N knew that. So, after a few moments of holding mother and son, Y/N let their hands go.

“We’ll let you get some rest, mama,” she told Diana with a soft smile before turning to Spencer, urging him to get up, too. “We’ll be back to visit soon, okay?” She kissed the woman’s cheek before taking a few steps back to let Spencer say goodbye to his mother. Once he did, the two of them fell into step together.

“You visit her?” he asked when they were outside.

Y/N shrugged. “One of us has to,” she simply replied before getting in the car again.

After informing the two other agents of the information they got from Diana, Derek, Spencer and Y/N headed into town to find Lou Jenkins, Riley’s father. They explained everything to Lou about their theory of William Reid being the one who killed his son.

“It’s just a theory, Mr. Jenkins,” Spencer reassured him.

The man threw something in the back of his truck, Y/N couldn’t see what it was, before he turned to the agents and detective. “You must be out of your damn minds,” he said.

“We’re just trying to get some new facts,” Y/N stated.

Lou turned to the Y/H/C, trying to appear intimidating towards her, but none of that ever worked on Y/N. Unlike Spencer, Y/N had actually grown a spine to stand up against bullies and men who tried to overpower her.

“Well, you’re hell and gone from facts if you think Will Reid killed my son,” he said, nearly spitting in the girl’s face. Derek placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, pushing him back from Y/N.

“So, you were friends?” Spencer asked instead.

Glancing between the agents and detective, Lou recoiled a little. “Who the hell are you to come here asking this?”

“I’m his son,” Spencer answered, stopping the man dead in his tracks. Lou looked at the young man in front of him.

“Spencer?” he asked and the boy she once knew made a reappearance with the expression on his face. “Spencer, a G-man.” He then turned to Y/N. “And the Y/H/C never too far from ya, hey?” A blush fanned across Y/N’s cheeks. She had always been Spencer’s shadow to everyone else but to Spencer and their moms. “I still don’t understand.”

“Was William around your house often?” Derek questioned.

“Yeah, the occasional barbecue, that sort of thing.”

“Was Riley around on those occasions?” Y/N continued.

Lou’s eyes flitted from the girl to the two men flanking her. “Why are you doing this?”

“I need to know,” Spencer replied and pressed his lips together.

Noticing the tension in his shoulders returning, Y/N reached for the balled-up fist on his side and unfurled his fingers, placing her palm against his and intertwining their fingers. It was something she used to do whenever he was panicking about something in school or when the bullies would get to him again.

He visibly relaxed as she hid their intertwined hands behind her back.

“Take it from someone who does know. He was a good man,” Lou reassured them, but something about the way he said it struck Y/N. Neither of the agents noticed it as Derek turned and patted Spencer on the stomach, his arm grazing Y/N’s chest as she stood between the two men.

“Thanks for your time,” Derek said as he walked away.

Y/N began to let go of Spencer’s hand to follow behind Derek when Spencer’s grip on her tightened as he stayed put. “Where is he these days?” he asked Lou. “My dad?”

“It’s been years, but he’s probably still at that same firm in Summerlin,” Lou answered.

Spencer’s grip loosened on Y/N’s hand as he slumped. “He’s been in town this whole time?” Her heart broke at the sight of him. Once again, Spencer’s dad broke the boy’s heart and Y/N was there to pick up the pieces.

That was never going to end, was it?

“As far as I know,” Lou replied before Spencer let go of Y/N and turned on his heel.

Y/N shot one last smile at Lou before falling into step with the two agents.

“You know Summerlin?” Derek asked both of them.

“Yeah, it’s like nine miles east of here,” Spencer replied.

“Off the 95,” Y/N finished his sentence.

“He was ten minutes away and he never let me know.”

Rossi joined the three of them at the company William Reid worked at. As they entered what seemed to be the lobby of the law firm, Y/N started to look around to take in her surroundings. Before she could take anything in, an unfamiliar voice sounded.

“Can I help you, gentleman?” The woman behind the desk got up and walked towards the front desk. One glance at the small board on her table told Y/N her name was Ms. Cahill. “And lady,” she added when her eyes fell on the Y/H/C.

“Yeah,” Spencer replied and then fell silent. He inhaled a couple of times, opening his mouth to say anything, but nothing came out.

“We’d like to speak with William Reid,” Y/N said in his place.

“Is he expecting you?” Ms. Cahill asked.

“I don’t think so,” Rossi said before flashing the woman his FBI badge.

While the woman told them Will was in a meeting, Y/N’s eyes landed on Spencer. He was having difficulty breathing, like he was on the verge of a panic attack, something Y/N knew all-too-well. The boy used to have them all the time when they were kids and Y/N was always the one to help him out of it.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked before Y/N could.

Spencer nodded his head. “Yeah. No. Yeah, I’m going to go to the bathroom.” Before either of them could say anything, he sped off towards the bathroom, leaving Y/N with his co-workers.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Derek pointed out.

A heavy sigh heaved Y/N’s chest. “I have,” she said. “Excuse me.”

She pushed past Derek and followed Spencer to the bathroom, not even caring she was entering the boys’ bathroom. Her heart and mind were set out on helping her best friend. She didn’t care much about bathroom etiquette.

“Spence?” she called out just before one of the stalls slowly opened. The man walked out of the cubicle, hands shaking and lip trembling. “Hey, you okay?” He simply shook his head before placing empty vials of something on the sink. Y/N reached for one, inspecting the label. Her heart sank. “Dilaudid, seriously, Spence?” Her voice contained more anger than she had intended to.

He splashed a bit of water in his face and blindly reached for the paper towels. Quickly jumping to his aide, Y/N handed him two. “Don’t, Y/N/N. You weren’t there,” he told her calmly as he dried his face.

“For what? For you to get hopped up on some drug?” She held the vial up for emphasis.

“For me being kidnapped and tortured!” The volume of his voice went up ever so slightly.

The anger that resided on Y/N’s chest washed away as her heart plummeted into her stomach. “What?” she whispered, her eyes filling up with tears. “Spencer…”

“Let’s just get this over with,” he said and pushed past her before she could even say anything else. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Y/N followed behind him and joined the other agents and Spencer’s father.

“Did something happen?” Y/N heard William ask.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Spencer responded in a cool, toned-down manner, much different from how he was moments before. The dilaudid seemed to be working quickly, Y/N thought. “Hello, Dad.”

William Reid looked at his son as if he’d seen the ghost of Christmas past. Y/N was suddenly reminded of all the times she had spent at the Reids’ and every time William picked them both up from school because her mother was working overtime and couldn’t pick her up.

“Spencer…” William whispered before his eyes landed on the girl next to him. “I’m glad you two are still together.”

Y/N couldn’t help but scoff at his comment. There had been so much in the last seven years she didn’t even know about. So much had happened. So much for which she should’ve been there for him. Too much, it seemed.

“Let’s talk in my office.” William invited the four of them into his office. While he himself took a seat on the armchair, Rossi opted for the couch opposite of him. After what happened in the bathroom, Y/N felt withdrawn from her best friend and opted to lean against the bookshelves, Derek joining her quickly, while Spencer stayed put near the door.

“You don’t look like me any more,” William told his son. “You used to. Everybody said so.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked towards Spencer, who was exhibiting a cool stance towards his father. “They say some people look like their dogs, too,” he started. “It’s attributed to prolonged mutual exposure. Elderly couples, also. They unconsciously mimic the expressions of people they’ve been around their whole life. It’s why we’ve been called non-biological twins our whole life,” he said, motioning towards Y/N at the end. “So it kind of makes sense that I wouldn’t really look like you. I haven’t seen you in twenty years.”

No one else noticed it, but Spencer’s bottom lip quivered. He was keeping up a strong facade, but it didn’t fool Y/N.

“So, are you in town on work?” William asked.

“We’re just wrapping up a case,” Rossi intervened smoothly. Maybe Y/N wasn’t the only one who noticed Spencer’s lip quivering. They were profilers after all, studying everyone’s behavior.

“A five-year-old boy was abducted and murdered,” Derek chimed in.

William looked up at Derek and Y/N. “I read about that. Ethan Hayes, right?” Glancing over at Y/N, Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed at his father’s behavior and he knew she had taken note, too. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed. “That case got me thinking about Riley Jenkins.”

“You remember Riley Jenkins, Mr. Reid?” Y/N questioned.

William nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ve been having dreams about him for a really long time,” Spencer explained. “But when I came back here for this case, it jogged something and the dream changed. I saw his killer and it was you.”

Along with Spencer’s co-workers, Y/N paid close attention to William to see if anything in his behavior or reaction would tip them off.

“Interesting dream,” William said, oddly calmly.

Y/N’s head tilted slightly. “You don’t seem that surprised.”

Turning back to his son, William smiled ever so slightly. “I stopped being surprised by Spencer’s mind a long time ago.” The man almost sounded proud.

“There are certain criteria we consider when looking at this type of suspect,” Rossi continued, ignoring the pride in William’s face. “You fit parts of that profile.”

William glanced at Y/N, a familiar face for guidance. When she didn’t offer any, he turned back to Rossi. “Me?”

“We just want your cooperation,” said Rossi.

“My cooper–” William chuckled in disbelief as he glanced at every person in the room. Neither of them were giving him any satisfactory answer, all four of them glaring at him to gauge his reaction. “You’re not actually saying you think I killed Riley Jenkins.”

Spencer shook his head ever so slightly. “We didn’t say that.”

“Good. Because that’s absurd.”

“We’d just like permission to look through your computer, access your records,” Derek stated.

William leaned forward in his chair. “And what would you be looking for, exactly?” No answer came forth, telling the hot-shot lawyer enough. “You want access to my files, get a warrant.”

Having asked him enough questions, the team of four returned to the hotel. Rossi and Derek got their own rooms while Y/N joined Spencer in his. She wanted to help him on the case a little more, see if they could come up with something together. Plus, if it gave her the chance to ask him some questions about what had happened to him, it would be even better.

As the two of them turned the corner in the hallway, Spencer dialed another co-worker’s number. Penelope Garcia, he’d explained to her. Tech analyst at the BAU. Computer wizard. “Yeah, we’re not gonna get a warrant so we’re going to have to go under the radar on this one, Garcia.”

“You want me to hack your father’s network,” Y/N could hear Penelope’s voice from the other side of the line. “You’re sure about this?”

The two of them stopped in front of room number 419. “I really wish people would stop asking me that,” he said to Penelope as he reached into his pocket for his keycard. He hung up the phone as he opened the door, stopping in his tracks as his foot stepped on something that wasn’t the carpet. His sudden halting caused Y/N to bump into him.

With confusion written in her eyes, she watched as Spencer bent down to require the folder that was on the floor. It was a brown envelope with a post-it stuck on the flap. “You’re looking at the wrong guy”, it read.

Spencer glanced over his shoulder at his best friend. “Do you know about this?”

She shook her head in response before he opened the envelope and fished out the files inside. At the very top of the bundle was a picture attached. More accurately, a mugshot from someone named Gary B Michaels.

Spencer glanced at Y/N before leaving the room again, this time, with the file in hand. Slightly frustrated by his lack of communication, Y/N followed behind, closing the door behind her but not before checking if Spencer had taken the roomkey with him.

Rossi and Morgan were in the downstairs bar, nursing a drink when the two younger ones joined them, Y/N a mere half a minute later. Spencer handed them the envelope without a word.

“Was the envelope dropped off at the front desk first?” Rossi asked.

“Nope, I asked the front desk. No one dropped anything off for Spencer,” Y/N replied.

Rossi nodded his head in thought. “So, they know what room you were in.”

“I do have to admit, the timing of this seems a little suspicious,” Derek agreed.

“Yeah, an hour after I see my father, we’re handed another suspect.”

Rossi looked up from the file. “You think you knew this guy?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer replied. “I think so but I’m not sure. I … No, I don’t know.” He was stuttering and chaotically jumping from one thought to the other.

Nodding at Y/N, Derek asked, “What about you? Have you seen him before?”

“Can’t say that I have… Or…” she reached for the picture again, looking at the man properly and in a more lit-up room. The dark eyes pierced through Y/N’s Y/E/C ones as if he could reach through the photo and just grab her like that, transporting her to her childhood.

“That’s a pretty dress.”

Before she could go any further in that memory, Rossi’s voice stopped her. “‘Exposed himself to a minor.’ That’s a precursor to molestation,” he said and his words threw Y/N right back.

She was at the playground, waving her ribbon around while Spencer was playing chess by himself, when a man stopped her in her tracks.

“That’s a pretty dress,” he complimented her cherry-patterned dress her mother had put her in that morning, even though she wanted to wear pants and a T-shirt. Y/N looked up at him. He was tall and his hair was smoothed back by gel, leaving it sticky and greasy-looking.

“Thank you,” innocent, unknowing Y/N responded. “Mommy picked it out for me.”

“Are those real cherries?” he asked and crouched to her level, reaching for the dress, feeling its fabric between his fingers.

Young Y/N frowned at him. “Of course not, silly.”

“I think it is,” he replied and tickled her belly before pretending to eat a handful of cherries, causing the young girl to laugh. “You like cherries?” Y/N nodded her head eagerly. “So do I.”

“Y/N/N?” Spencer’s voice brought her right back to the present day. She blinked rapidly, adjusting to the bright light of the hotel’s lobby. “You okay?” he asked. Before she could say anything, Derek’s phone rang, cutting the men’s worry for the young woman away.

“It’s Garcia,” Derek said before picking up and putting the phone on speaker. “Talk to me, baby girl.”

Y/N gave the man an intrigued look, but decided not to say anything.

“I’m not interrupting boy time at Crazy Horse Too, am I?” the peppy-sounding woman asked.

“You know that’s not my thing. I’m more for in-room entertainment.”

“I can’t help you there, but I do give good phone.”

Y/N looked over at Spencer who gave her a look that told her this was how they always interacted with one another.

“Let me hear what you’ve got.”

“Reid, we’ve been all up in your father’s business,” Garcia started.

“What did you find?”

“Well, let me tell you first what I did not find. No kiddie porn, no membership to illicit websites, no dubious e-mails, no chat room history.”

“What about his finances?” Spencer asked, his shoulders tensing a little again.

Another voice came through the speaker now, one Y/N didn’t recognize. He sounded like a strong male, very authoritative voice. “We went back ten years. No questionable transactions that we could find.”

“Well, he did buy a ticket to see Céline Dion six months ago,” another woman’s voice came next. “But I think we can overlook that.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile ever so slightly. Céline Dion was very often playing in their house. Both at Spencer’s and at her own. The two families were pretty crazy about the French-Canadian singer.

“He’s smart. Is it possible he kept things under the table?” Spencer wanted to know next.

The man’s voice sounded through again. “Well, of course. But from what we can tell, Reid, he doesn’t fit the profile.”

“We can tell you other things about him, if you want to know,” the female voice that wasn’t Garcia’s said.

Spencer looked down at Y/N as if to find his footing again. “I’m listening.”

“Uh, he’s a workaholic. He actually logs more hours than we do,” the woman said. “He makes decent money, but he doesn’t spend a lot of it. He has a modest house, he drives a hybrid. He doesn’t travel much, he stays away from the casinos. And according to his veterinary bills, he has a very sick cat.”

The man spoke next. “He appears to spend most of his free time alone, and goes to the movies a lot, and he reads. And from his collection of first editions, it seems his favorite author is…”

“Isaac Asimov. I remember that one,” Spencer cut him off. He was agitated, doubting every single belief he had about his father. Though she was still kind of upset with him, Y/N reached for his hand again and intertwined their fingers, hoping that would ground him again.

“He does have one other major interest. On his home computer he’s archived a gajillion things on one common subject,” Garcia took over again.

A smile spread on Y/N’s face, knowing what she was going to say.

“What?” Spencer asked.

“You, kiddo.” Y/N could hear the smile in Garcia’s voice and she squeezed Spencer’s hand. “He’s got like everything that’s been published online. Every article you’ve been quoted in, pieces you’ve written for behavioral science journals. He even has a copy of your dissertation.”

“He’s keeping tabs on you,” Y/N told him, beaming. “That’s saying something.”

“Yeah, and he Googled me. That makes up for everything,” he said before pushing past his colleagues, letting go of the one hand that could ground him. “I need some air.”

“Spence!” Y/N called, but he was already gone.

Derek sighed as he spoke into the phone again. “You guys still there?”

“I thought we were giving him good news,” Garcia sighed, too. “Also, who else is there? I swore I heard a woman’s voice.”

“Oh, that would be me,” Y/N answered. “I’m Detective Y/N Y/L/N. Spencer’s childhood best friend. I’m trying to help out here, wherever I can.”

“Didn’t you apply for the spot at the BAU, too?” the male voice sounded again. “I remember seeing your resume on my desk.”

Y/N let out an awkward chuckle. “Yeah, I did. But, uh, you chose Spencer over me. Which is totally valid. He’s a great guy and I bet he’s a great asset to your team.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t pick you, Detective Y/L/N,” the man said.

“It’s fine. I’m proud of Spencer for getting in anyway and I’m happy in my job, so. Hey, no resentment, all right?”

“Glad to hear that. Can we do anything else for you guys there?”

Derek held the phone up to his mouth. “Yeah, look up a name for us, if you would. Gary Brandan Michaels.”

The name alone sent shivers down Y/N’s spine, bringing her right back to that day on the playground.

His hand moved from her belly down to her short legs, placing one on the back of her knee. “Could you do a twirl for me, pretty girl?”

She quickly snapped herself back out of it and looked up at the two men in front of her. “I need some air,” she whispered and took off the same way Spencer did. Trying to find her breathing again, she stopped around the corner and focused on her respiration. It wasn’t until she heard his familiar voice that she looked up again to take in her surroundings. She found herself on the other side of the lobby where they had some of those casino machines. One of which was manned by her best friend.

He was accompanied by a blonde girl in a sparkly purple dress. She was sitting a bit too close to her best friend for Y/N’s liking.

“Normally video poker odds are slightly worse, at point-seven percent in your favor, but if you employ optimal strategy and always draw for the royal flush, you can push those odds to point-two percent,” Spencer explained to the woman.

“Hmm,” the woman hummed. “Smart and handsome.”

Spencer looked up at this, but his eyes weren’t on the woman for more than a second as they caught something behind her. Or rather someone.

“So are you in town for the convention?” she asked while reaching for a cigarette.

Spencer slightly shook his head to force himself to pry his eyes away from the beautiful Y/H/C in the corner who was looking at him, too. “Um, there are twelve conventions in town this week, which one are you talking about?”

“Take your pick,” she said, laughing, before lighting the cigarette.

Upon seeing this, Y/N walked over. “Six minutes,” she mumbled. The woman’s eyes landed on the newest addition to their conversation as she blew out her smoke, though Y/N couldn’t but focus on how Spencer’s lips twitched up into a smile.

“Excuse me?” the woman asked, clearly offended.

Spencer shook his head slightly with a smile. “I-it was something I used to say to my mom to try to get her to quit smoking. A cigarette takes six minutes off your life. So every time she’d light one, I’d say, ‘that’s six minutes less that I get to spend with you’.”

“Aw! Did it work?”

If Y/N hated how the woman was so charmed by her best friend, she was very much showing it, though neither of them noticed.

“No,” Spencer replied chuckling.

“Because I’ve tried it all. The gum, the patch, nothing works.”

The Y/H/C let out a chuckle. “You should try hypnosis, they’ve had a lot of success in the–” Just as the idea popped into Y/N’s head, it seemingly did in Spencer’s, too, as his head snapped up at her with wide eyes.

“Tell you what, I’ll put mine out if you buy me a drink,” the woman tried, but Spencer wasn’t even listening anymore.

Grimacing at the woman, Y/N placed her hands on Spencer’s shoulders. “Not today, sweetheart.”

Just as Spencer turned in his chair, Derek and David joined Y/N’s side. “We’ve been looking all over the place for both of you. Come on,” said Derek with a serious expression on his face.

Spencer got up from his chair and took Y/N’s hand in his, entwining their fingers to give her the support and calmth she needed after her near-panic attack just mere moments earlier.

“Hey! You won like two-thousand dollars here,” the woman called.

“Keep it,” Spencer told her over his shoulder.

“You do realize you just gave two grand to a hooker,” Rossi pointed out.

Derek’s eyes glanced from the woman in the purple dress to Spencer to Y/N. “Must’ve been quite a conversation. What was it about?”

“How to stop smoking,” Spencer replied before walking off, dragging Y/N with him.

Outside, Spencer explained his plan. Derek and Rossi weren’t entirely in on the plan, but Y/N convinced them that it could help.

“I could sit in,” Y/N suggested, but Rossi shook his head.

“No, I’ll sit in, make sure everything’s going well.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N looked at him. “Why not? We’re practically soulmates, we–I can help.”

“That’s just it, Y/N,” Derek chimed in. “You’re too close. Let Rossi do it. We’ll wait out here.”

After a reassuring nod from Spencer, Y/N sat down next to Derek, allowing Rossi to go in with him. She didn’t love this. Her best friend might get hurt and she wouldn’t even be there to patch up the breakage.

“You and Spencer…” Derek started once the silence settled over them in the waiting room. “You’ve been more than friends?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head.

“But you wanted to?”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. Never had she even admitted to herself that what she felt for Spencer was more than platonic. She didn’t want to admit it, scared that it was true and it was going to ruin what they had going on.

“I–How do you know?” she asked, her voice quiet and vulnerable.

A soft laugh erupted from Derek’s throat. “I’m a profiler, Y/L/N. Besides, it’s blatantly obvious.”

“How so?”

“Come on, the way you look at each other, the way you hold each other’s hands…”

Y/N’s brows furrowed. “Wait,” she said, confusion laced in her voice. “You’re not saying ‘you’. You’re not talking about the way I look at him, but the way we look at each other…”

“Pretty Boy’s blatantly in love with you, too, genius.”

Scoffing, Y/N shook her head. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England.”

Derek wetted his lips as he chuckled. “All right, Your Majesty. Whatever you wanna believe…”

“Y/N/N!” the sudden scream of her name caused her to jolt from her chair and rush into the practice where she found Spencer on the couch, panting and frantically looking around the room.

“Spence,” she whispered and rushed to his side, relieving Rossi from his protective duty. “Spence, you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.” She soothed him, allowing him to grab onto her hand as she smoothed his hair back and pressed kisses to his head. “You’re okay.”

Once Spencer had calmed down and explained to his co-workers and Y/N what he had seen, he had decided to go back to his mother to confront her and ask her about that day.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Y/N asked, her voice soft and fragile.

Spencer looked down at her and nodded her head. “Please,” he whispered.

Derek dropped them off at Bennington Sanitarium, wanting to wait for the couple in the car until they were ready. The whole way to her room, Spencer held Y/N’s hand tightly, power walking through the familiar hallways. They found her in her room where Spencer explained what he had seen in his vision. Y/N watched from the sidelines and noticed how Diana became more and more agitated.

“Try to remember, Mom,” said Spencer, needing to push her a little.

“No, I can’t.”

“You were there. You watched Dad burn the bloody clothes.”

Diana shook her head. “You had a dream.”

“Mom, this was not a dream,” Spencer pressed, causing his mother to turn around to face him. “This was a memory. It was a memory and I saw you.”

She walked up to him and grabbed his face in her hands lovingly. “Your mind. Such a treasure. Even as a baby you knew about things you weren’t supposed to know.”

“This is not about me. This is about Riley Jenkins.”

“It was always about you,” Diana said in a whisper, matching her son’s tone of voice.

“Please, Mom. Please. Please just try to remember,” Spencer tried again as he grabbed her hands and guided her over to her bed where they sat down. “Remember Riley. Riley.”

“Riley… Riley,” she mimed as she let the name simmer in her brain. “Riley was real. Poor Riley.”

“Yes,” Spencer whispered. “Poor Riley. Poor Riley. Did Dad do something to him?”

Diana looked up at her son in surprise. “Dad? No.”

“Think, think, think,” Spencer pressed.

“No, no, no, no. That’s– No, no. Now you’re confusing me, Spencer. No.” She placed her hands over her face. It was stressing her out. He was pressing and pushing her too far.

“Spence,” Y/N tried softly, but he didn’t hear her.

“You knew, Mom. You knew about Dad and you didn’t do anything.”

“No, you don’t know. No! No, no, you don’t know! You don’t…” Then, she started to yell out her ‘no’s before getting up and starting to hit herself.

“Mama,” Y/N walked up to her and tried to keep her from hurting herself, but Spencer quickly pulled her away and let the nurses push past them to get Diana in control. As the two of them watched the nurses put something in her arm to calm her down, they held onto one another tightly. Spencer’s lips were pressed against Y/N’s hair, the scent of her shampoo calming him down.

“He got to Y/N/N,” Diana whispered once the medicine started working.

Y/N and Spencer exchanged glances before Spencer let go of the girl. “What? What did you say?”

“He got to Y/N/N and it could’ve been you, too.”

The flashbacks she’d been having were real. They were actual memories from her childhood. From the guy that touched her and asked her to twirl. The guy that killed Riley Jenkins was the same guy that played with her with her ribbon.

It could’ve been either of them, instead of Riley.

The following day, Y/N went back to work, not entirely ready to face her captain’s wrath about missing a few days, but she had to go through it. He wasn’t entirely happy, but the girl didn’t get fired either. A warning, Hyde had said. Another one and she’d be out.

For as long as she could, she tried to focus on her work. It was a simple filing day, so there didn’t need to be too many brain cells involved in this activity. Lucky for her, because most of her brain cells were focusing on the Riley Jenkins case, her conversation with Derek about Spencer and Spencer himself.

Y/N knew she had a crush on her best friend. She had since they were sixteen but she couldn’t admit that to anyone else. Not even herself.

“What was Lou Jenkins doing here?” The familiar and normally soothing voice of Spencer Reid made her jump out of her thoughts.

Sighing, Y/N smiled her fakest smile. “Good morning, Y/N/N. Good morning, Spence. What can I do ya for?” She held the whole conversation by herself, earning an annoyed glare from her best friend. “I don’t know what he was doing here, I didn’t even notice him.”

“I thought you were a good detective,” Spencer quipped, and though Y/N knew he was only teasing, it actually stung a bit.

“What are you doing here, Dr. Reid?” she asked, allowing her tone to showcase just how pissed off she was.

Spencer’s features softened. “Can you come with us? We gotta convince Detective Hyde that we wanna arrest my dad.”

“Don’t you need a good detective for that?” she shot back and swiveled in her chair, away from him.

She heard him sigh before he turned her chair around again. His eyes glazed over ever so slightly as he crouched down to her level. The flashbacks from her childhood returned for a quick second. “I’m sorry, Y/N/N. That was uncalled for. Please, will you help me?”

“Get up,” she whispered, not wanting to be reminded of the guy in the playground again. “Please, Spence. Get up.” Confused, Spencer stood up straight again before Y/N took a breath and got up, too.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Derek asked, worry laced in his eyes.

She offered them a smile. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Allowing Spencer to sit down in front of Detective Hyde, Y/N and Derek remained by the door. Spencer explained the entire case to the detective, handing over the file they had compiled.

“You’ve got no evidence,” Hyde concluded.

“A suspect can be detained for questioning for forty-eight hours, regardless of evidence,” Spencer told him.

Hyde glanced up to Y/N and Derek before turning his focus back on Spencer. “I’m not in the habit of ruining people’s reputations on a whim.”

“Where’s your Captain? I want to talk to your Captain,” Spencer stated.

“Talk all you want,” Hyde chided. “This was a local murder and your authority ends at the state line.”

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Y/N said, “Mine doesn’t.”

Detective Hyde glared at his co-worker before getting up and taking a seat on the edge of his desk. “Look, why don’t you just head back over to the Fountainview, and have a couple of drinks by the pool, and think about this?”

“I have thought about this,” Spencer stated determinedly.

“The guy’s your father.”

“What’s your point, Detective?”

“Maybe you’re here to work out some other issues…” Spencer got up just as Derek approached the two of them, pushing past his co-worker.

“Listen, Detective–”

Derek started, but Y/N was quick to cut him off. “Give us twenty-four hours, Hyde. Consider it a personal favor to the FBI, huh? Don’t you want to be in these guys’ good books? Don’t you wanna be the grand local hero?”

Y/N and Hyde had a stand-down for a good minute. Her Y/E/C eyes didn’t defer from his for even a split second. She was going to get to him, even if it cost her her job.

“Fine. You’ve got twenty-four hours.”

Smiling, Y/N patted his shoulder. “Thank you, good Detective.”

“I appreciate that,” said Derek before turning on his heel and following after Spencer, who quickly burst out of the office. “Reid, you’ve got to keep your head, man,” Derek said to the young agent just as Y/N joined them.

“He could’ve just agreed to it, it happens all the time.”

“They just want to feel like they’re the ones in control,” Derek assured him right before his phone rang. Spencer took this as an opportunity to walk away, only for his best friend to follow right after him.

“You okay, Spence?” she asked, worry laced in her voice.

He smiled at her. “Yeah. Could ask you the same thing. What was that earlier?”

“You pissed me off,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as if that would protect her from the truth.

Shaking his head, he stepped closer towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “No, not that. When I crouched down in front of you. You flinched. You-your eyes glazed over as though you were gonna cry and you tensed up.”

“I-I guess I’ve been having some–flashbacks from our childhood?” she stuttered and stumbled over her words, not even sure what to make of it herself.

Spencer’s head tilted. “From our childhood? And it’s making you scared of me?”

“No, I–” before she could say anything, Rossi walked into the hallway they were in, intervening in their conversation.

“Your dad’s here,” he said.

The two of them joined Rossi and Derek when they had William Reid in the interrogation room. “You still think he did it, don’t you?” Derek asked Spencer.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Well, for one thing, Gary Michaels fits the profile,” Derek answered. Hearing the name caused Y/N to shiver ever so slightly. “You okay, mama?” Y/N simply nodded her head in response, allowing Derek to continue. “For another, he fled town after Riley’s murder. He’s a better suspect than your dad, Reid.”

Spencer’s nose scrunched. “He’s a convenient one. Someone slipped the file under my door, Morgan. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe they’re trying to help,” Rossi chimed in.

“Or maybe they’re trying to protect him,” Spencer suggested.

Rossi stepped closer to Spencer. “You’re talking about someone helping to cover up the murder of a child. Who would do that?”

Something clicked inside Y/N’s mind as she watched her best friend’s father through the glass. He didn’t strike her to be someone who would murder a child. He was the one person she hated most when she was a kid, but he didn’t seem to be the one to do the hating. Along with the flashbacks she’d been having and the things Hyde was saying mere moments ago, it didn’t make sense to her that Spencer’s dad would be behind this.

“Didn’t it seem a little odd how resistant Hyde was when you asked him to bring in your father?” she asked Spencer, voicing her thoughts.

Derek looked at her. “I know you hate the guy, but are you seriously accusing a cop right now?”

“It was a police file,” Spencer said, agreeing with his best friend.

“A very old one. Anybody could’ve accessed it. You too, Y/N/N.”

Y/N scoffed. “Aside from that…” she turned back to Spencer. “He told you to go back to the Fountainview, have a drink by the pool, and think about things. Have you told them you were staying at the Fountainview, Spence?”

Her best friend looked at her in thought. “No, I haven’t. Have you?”

“Uh-uh,” she shook her head and watched as the gears behind his eyes began working him up. “How bad of a detective am I now, huh?”

“You’re brilliant,” he whispered before walking past her and entering the interrogation room where his dad was.

Beaming, Y/N turned to Derek. “I’m brilliant,” she cooed, proudly.

“And you’re still trying to convince me you’re not in love with him?” Derek asked, smug smirk on his face.

Not really having a retort to that, Y/N pulled a face before turning to the window to listen to Spencer interviewing his father.

“The question is simple. How did the blood get on the clothes?”

William looked up at his son. “I told you, I’m not going to talk without counsel.”

“You don’t have anything to hide, you don’t need a lawyer.”

As Y/N watched Spencer interview his father, she felt weird. Something didn’t add up. William was hiding something from them. Detective Hyde was not trying to help them but protecting someone else and Lou Jenkins had been at the precinct for God-knows what reason. Diana told them he’d gotten to her and that he could’ve gotten Spencer, but William had never laid a hand on Y/N, which meant she wasn’t talking about William.

“Did you hear from Garcia on Michaels’ whereabouts?” Y/N asked Derek.

He shook his head. “No, why?”

“I have a weird feeling about this,” she murmured.

Nodding his head, Derek reached for his phone. “I’ll check up on them now,” he said and walked out of the room. It didn’t take very many minutes for him to return and call Spencer away from his interview.

“Gary Michaels is dead,” Derek told them what his boss, Hotch, had told him.

Y/N felt weak in her knees upon hearing the news. The hairs on the back of her neck raised while the feeling of fingertips grazing her skin left her feeling nauseous.

“Y/N/N, you okay?” Spencer asked as he guided her into a chair.

Y/N shook her head as tears lined her eyes. “Your mother said he’d gotten to me, Spence. It was Gary… He’s the guy that –” A sob shook her entire body, keeping the words from coming out of her. “He’s– He–” she tried over and over again, failing every time.

“Hey, hey, Y/N/N, look at me,” Spencer placed both hands on her face, forcing her to look at him. “You’re gonna be okay. Tell us what happened.”

She sniffled. “I can’t. I-I can’t.”

“Okay, that’s okay,” Spencer whispered before looking up at his co-workers. “Let’s bring her home–”

“No,” she quickly interrupted and grasped his hands from her face. “I don’t wanna go home. I don’t wanna be alone.”

Spencer’s thumb caressed her hands. “You got to rest, Y/N/N. Where do you wanna go?”

“I wanna come with you.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” said Derek. “Where else does she feel safe?”

With one glance at his best friend, Spencer knew where to bring her. “With my mom.”

As simple as that answer was, it was even simpler bringing her there. Y/N found Diana on the couch in the communal living room, leafing through an old photo book.

“Hi, mama,” Y/N greeted, hoping she wouldn’t see how puffy her eyes were or how scared she was. Diana looked up and smiled at the girl she considered her own daughter. “Can I sit with you?”

She nodded and patted the spot beside her, showing the pictures in the book on her lap. “Do you remember this?” she asked, showing her a picture of her and Spencer at the beach, sharing an ice cream. “It was the first time the two of you were allowed to have big-kids ice creams. You were so excited about it, you got most of it on your face and body.”

Smiling at the memory, Y/N traced a finger across the laminated photo. Immediately, she felt a hundred times better. Coming here, visiting Diana, always made her feel better, no matter how shitty her day had been.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the doctor spoke as he joined the two. “Can I talk to Diana?”

“Sure,” Y/N whispered and got up, but Diana quickly stopped her.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of her.” Y/N looked at the woman in surprise as she plopped back down. “She’s family.”

The doctor sighed and took a seat on the coffee table so he was in front of Diana. “I’m told you’re refusing medication.” Y/N blinked at Diana in surprise.

“I’m just holding off for a little while, if you don’t mind,” Diana told her doctor.

“You know what will happen,” the Doctor warned her calmly.

Diana nodded her head. “Tremors, panic, and the voices,” she summed up, having memorized it all. “But before that, when the fog lifts, a window of clarity. And I really need that right now.”

“I can give you some latitude here. Just tell me why,” said the Doctor.

Bowing her head down, Diana sighed. “I wanna remember,” she said solemnly, reaching for Y/N’s hand to squeeze it as she looked at the picture of her son, his best friend, her mother and herself. All four of them. Happy as Larry.

“Diana, does this have anything to do with Spencer and what we’ve been asking you about?” Y/N asked, squeezing her hand.

She looked at Y/N, her eyes softening with tears in her eyes. “I need to remember, Y/N/N. I need to remember who it was that got to you.” Her free hand went up to the young woman’s cheek, cupping it. Melting into the familiar touch, Y/N leaned into her hand, allowing her own tears to flow.

“Shall I stay here with you until you remember?” Diana simply nodded her head in response and Y/N smiled before the two of them returned to the picture book after having thanked Diana’s doctor.

It took a couple of hours, but the window of Diana’s memory started widening and brightening. She told Y/N it was time and, along with the doctor, she brought the woman she considered her second mother to the precinct where she told Hyde to bring them to Spencer.

“Agent Reid,” Detective Hyde said as soon as he opened the door.

Spencer turned and with a booming voice, he yelled, “Do not interfere with this interrogation, Detective. This is not your case anymore.”

“Spence,” Y/N murmured softly, appearing from behind Hyde with his mother’s hand in hers.

“Spencer, it was me,” Diana told him. Spencer's eyes flitted from his mother to his father to his best friend before he finally made the decision to hear his mother out first. They headed into Detective Hyde’s office where his father perched against the desk and Spencer grabbed two chairs. One for his mother and one for Y/N. He himself took a seat on the sofa.

“I’d seen him around,” Diana started. “At your ball games. At the park. You used to play chess there, do you remember?” Spencer softly nodded his head. “You played with him once.”

“With Gary Michaels?” A shiver went down Y/N’s spine.

Diana’s hand squeezed Y/N’s in reassurance. “I didn’t know that was his name back then,” Diana admitted. “But it wasn’t unusual for you to play with adults. And you’d win, too. I’d only started to grow concerned when I noticed him around Y/N/N. He – uhm,” Diana halted, unable to get the words across her lips.

“Did he do something to us?” Spencer asked, worried eyes flitting over towards the Y/H/C girl with the tears streaming down her face.

“Not to you, no,” Diana whimpered, squeezing Y/N’s hand tighter.

Spencer leaned forward, wanting to crouch in front of his best friend, but then refrained and returned back to his seat, remembering how she reacted to that the other day. “Y/N/N… You remember what happened to you, don’t you?”

Nodding her head, Y/N cried out. “He touched me, Spence. I-I suppressed the memory for as long as I could remember, but-but when I saw his mugshot, I just… I suppose the memory just flooded back into my mind.”

“He was inappropriate with Y/N/N, he looked at you like he wanted to do the same thing to you. I just couldn’t let it happen…” Diana continued, holding onto Y/N’s hand.

“A mother knows,” Spencer recited something Diana had told him mere days ago. Diana nodded her head. “So, you told Riley’s dad?”

Diana heaved in a deep breath. “Two nights later, Lou called the house. He was agitated. He said he needed me to meet him. We went to stake out his house, Gary’s. He was bringing out the garbage when Lou asked me if that was him. He told me that that was Gary Michaels and that he had a history with kids… I-He then told me to go, but I didn’t listen. He got out and I-I sat there, I couldn’t move. It was like a dream, that paralysis in the face of something terrible.”

“What happened after that?” Spencer asked.

Clearing her throat, Diana bowed her head. “It’s okay, Diana,” William encouraged, placing a hand over Y/N’s and Diana’s locked hands. “Go on.”

“At some point I found myself walking towards the house. I found Lou hovering over Gary’s bloodied body… And the rest… It’s all dark after that.”

“You came home,” William continued for her and turned to his son. “She couldn’t talk at first, but eventually I came to understand what had happened, and I knew that nobody could ever know.”

“So you never told anyone?” Y/N asked, voice meek and fragile.

William shook his head. “No, she could have been implicated. And I had to protect her.”

With teary eyes, Spencer looked up at Y/N before moving to his father. “You were burning her bloody clothes,” he stated.

Both Diana and Will nodded their heads. “But the knowing, you can’t burn that away,” William said. “It changed everything.”

“Is that why you left?” Spencer asked his dad.

“I tried to keep us together, Spencer, I swear to you, but the weight of that knowledge was… It was too much.”

Y/N looked at Spencer. His bottom lip was quivering whilst the gears behind his eyes were working overtime. “You could’ve come back,” he eventually told his dad. “We could have started over.”

“I didn’t know how to take care of you any more,” he said to Spencer before turning to Y/N. “And I didn’t know how to approach you, knowing –” Will quickly stopped himself before he could burst into tears. “When I lost that confidence, there was no going back.”

“What’s done is done,” said Diana without a single ounce of resentment before turning back to her son. “At least now you know the truth… Both of you.” She squeezed Y/N’s hand again.

Spencer stared down at his hands for a couple of seconds and Y/N knew he was fighting back tears. “I was wrong about everything. I’m sorry,” he squeeked.

Getting up from his spot against the desk, William went to sit next to Spencer. “Me too, Spencer.”

A small smile spread across Y/N’s lips as she sniffled. After everything that had happened, she was glad Spencer got some kind of closure with his dad. And, above all, she felt the hatred she’d harbored for William Reid all these years, lift from her heart. Everything he did was to protect his family.

“So,” Diana then said, lifting Y/N’s hand and placing a kiss on it. “I believe these two have a couple of things they need to discuss.” She motioned to the youngest ones in the room. “Plus, I need to be back in my room before curfew.”

With a smile, Y/N blew the woman a kiss. “I’ll visit you tomorrow, mama.”

“See you next time, mom,” said Spencer as he got up and kissed his mother goodbye.

With that, Diana and William left the office, leaving Y/N and Spencer to their own devices. Y/N was watching the two leave with a smile on her face, not even noticing Spencer staring at her until he captured her attention.

“Hey,” he said in a whisper. Y/N looked up at him. “Come here.” He patted the spot beside him.

Y/N moved from her spot on the chair to the couch where Spencer grabbed her hands and kissed her knuckles. “Are you okay?” she asked, cupping his face with her hands right after he kissed them.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m gonna be,” he replied. “Are you?”

Heaving in a deep breath, she let go of his face and dropped her hands in his lap where he grasped them again. “I suppressed those memories for so long and now I have to digest them all over again… It’s gonna be a lot of therapy.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked, lifting her hands again to kiss them.

Y/N shook her head. “No, I think they might need you in Quantico,” she said with a smile and wriggled one hand out of his grip to push back a strand of hair. This time, she didn’t feel too awkward doing it.

“Actually, I was thinking you could come with me to D.C.?” Y/N perked up at this news. “I-I talked to Hotch earlier and he, uhm, he’d like you to come in for a few, like, trial days at the BAU… Only if you want to, of course. I-I don’t expect you to give your life up here to fly with me to Virginia and just throw your life upside down. I just–”

“Spence,” Y/N interrupted him with a chuckle. “I’d love to go with you. With you gone, there’s nothing keeping me here.”

Spencer let out an amused scoff as he looked at her. For a moment, it was just that; him looking at her, her looking right back. His eyes glimmered the way they always did when he looked at her. After all these years, it still made her feel like she was the only girl in the world.

“Spence,” she started in a whisper, “I–” Before she could even begin her sentence, a pair of soft lips shut her right up. At first, she was surprised, but she quickly melted into the kiss and let it completely overtake her senses.

“I know,” he whispered when he pulled back. “Me too.” With a smile on her face, she kissed him again, only for him to pull back after a few seconds. “You did wanna tell me you’re in love with me right? Otherwise I probably read this situation very wrong.”

Giggling, Y/N kissed him again. “I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen, Spence. You can be so dumb sometimes,” she told him between kisses, some of the words getting lost in his mouth.

“Actually, it’s just that I–” Before the man could go off on a rant about statistics and scientific facts, Y/N quickly shut him up by kissing him again.

After everything that had happened, this was not the ending Y/N had expected for her and Spencer, but she was happy that it was.

“Are you sure they’re gonna like me?” Y/N mumbled as Spencer dragged her down the hospital corridors on the way to his co-worker, JJ’s room. He’d told her she had just given birth to a baby boy while they were in Vegas and it was the first thing they were going to do when they landed back in Virginia.

It also meant it was the first time his co-workers, and Y/N’s new co-workers, were going to meet her in real life.

Spencer chuckled and pulled at her hand so that she’d fall into his chest and he could kiss her passionately. “Yes, I am sure,” he told her when he pulled away. “Oh, we’re here,” he said, pointing at the room number.

He rapped two times on the doorpost, capturing everyone’s attention in the room. “You guys have room for two more in here?” he asked, smiling at his colleagues, especially as they looked at him with confusion in their eyes.

Pulling Y/N with him, he entered the room with a smile.

“Spence, hi,” the blonde in the hospital bed greeted with a smile.

“Welcome back,” the tall guy they had landed next to said to Spencer before his eyes landed on Y/N. “You must be Y/N Y/L/N,” he said, holding out his hand for her to shake, which she did by letting Spencer go for a second. “Aaron Hotchner, but everyone calls me Hotch.”

“Nice to meet you, Hotch,” Y/N said, grinning from ear to ear.

Spencer then turned to the little one in the room. “Wow,” he said before his eyes landed on the father. “Congratulations.” He reached out his hand to shake.

“How is it that I just went through fifteen hours of labor and you look worse than I do?” JJ asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Spencer muttered. “You look beautiful.”

Y/N simply nodded her head in agreement at the sentiment. With one glance at her boyfriend, JJ wordlessly told him something the rest of the visitors didn’t quite catch onto.

“Well, I could sure use some coffee. Anyone else?” he asked.

Everyone agreed and filed out of the room, one by one. When Y/N made a move to follow, catching onto JJ wanting to be alone with Spencer, he pulled her back to his side. “You better not think about leaving my side.”

Y/N shot a fleeting glance at JJ to check if she was okay with it. Judging by the smile on her face, the Y/H/C stayed put.

“Are you okay?” JJ asked as Y/N nudged him to move a little closer.

“Yeah, yeah. You?”

“Yeah, yeah. You sure? Because there’s something I wanted to ask you, but it can wait.”

Feeling her heart leaping in her throat, Y/N tried her hardest to contain her excitement. She already knew where this was going.

“What is it?” he asked, brows furrowing ever so slightly.

JJ smiled and looked down at the baby in her arms. “Will and I were talking, and uh, we want you to be Henry’s godfather.”

An excited squeal erupted from Y/N’s throat, causing Spencer to look back at her in surprise. “I don’t even know. I don’t know…” he stuttered and stumbled, his eyes flicking back and forth from JJ to Y/N and back.

“Here, do you want to hold him?” she asked, already holding out the newborn for him to take. “It’s okay, here you go.”

A little hesitantly, Spencer took the baby from his friend. “Oh, hi, Henry,” he cooed.

“If something were to happen to us, it’s up to you and Garcia to make sure this boy gets into Yale,” JJ joked.

Spencer puffed. “Yale. Yale. Do you wanna go to Yale, Henry?” he asked the baby as though he could answer.

With a chuffed smile, Y/N joined Spencer’s side again. “That was your godfather’s safety school.” Spencer’s honey eyes met her Y/E/C ones in surprise before he turned back to the baby.

“Don’t worry, I can get you into CalTech with one phone call,” he whispered to him like it was a secret.

As Spencer looked at the baby in his arms, he couldn’t help but forget the stress he had felt in the past couple of days. If something so small and fragile could be in his arms without breaking, something JJ trusted him with, he was certain nothing else could touch him anymore.

Especially not with his best friend by his side.

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty@littlemissaddict@n0wornever@wanniiieeee@unnowhatthisistbh

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic

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malina-33 · 10 months

Text

Femme Like You - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: You are the new tour manager for Arctic Monkeys during The Car era. You are practically the only girl in the team, also younger than the rest (27 y.o.), so your skills are immediately called into question. In particular, by the frontman who is not used to being led by a woman.

Word count: 10,2k

Warnings: swearing, emotional swing (is it even a warning?), kind of voyeurism (slight), age gap

A/N: Dear friends, hi!! I know, I know that I've promised you to update the fic every 3 weeks, and the disappeared for 1.5 months, but I spontaneously found a job, so there was very little time. But the chapter is much longer and with some interesting collaborations ;) I'll hope you enjoy them!

And write down what do you think if I make a description of not only the whole work, but also the chapter before each new part? Or is it better to keep the intrigue till the end?

In any case, I look forward to your feedback, it's soooo much important for me. I won't promise to return before the end of September, but I'll do my best not to delay. I already have an interesting plot for the next chapters, you should like it💔

*guys, English isn't my first language so if I have (and I know I have lol) any grammar/logic mistakes don't hesitate to tell me :)

The first week after meeting with the group flew by unnoticed. You dealt with the documentation, understanding how necessary it is, no matter how much you hated it, phoned the representatives of Ashton Gate stadium, made sure that everything was okay and confirmed the presence of the group and even tried to check the weather since the gig would be held outside. However, it turned out to be a little more difficult with the transport company. Apparently, James forgot to warn them about the temporary removal of his duties, so you had to spend time clarifying the situation and explaining who you are. It seemed that your hands-on approach was excessive, because you were trying to control everything in one time, but only due to the feeling of extra responsibility.

Steven, as promised, sent the contacts of the guys and important people from the technical crew, so now your phone had the names of Jamie Cook, Nick O'Malley, Matthew Helders and Alex "dickhead" Turner among others. 19 years old you would definitely envy yourself. So when you got a message while cooking pasta for dinner on Saturday night, you already knew it was from the drummer and not from an anonymous online scammer.

Matthew Helders: "good evening, Miss Y/S! I hope you aren't busy. We'll wait you on the soundcheck on Monday at 2 pm in Domino, need your advice :)"

You almost overcooked Carbonara bacon rereading the message. "Do they really need my advice?" you whispered, furrowing your brows "About what?". But the only answer was:

You: "Sure! Do I need to take some 12% cider?"

Matthew Helders: "you better not show up without a package lol"

Immediately followed by:

Matthew Helders: "just kidding! We are waiting only for you, but in the company of cider it will be even better)"

You chuckled, surprised at how quickly Matt went from formal Miss at the beginning of the conversation to smiles and lols at the end. To tell the truth, you still didn't fully understand how to behave with them. On the one hand, you are their manager and have a certain influence, as well as subordination. Steven and James don't have it, although they are "higher" in position, but they've been friends for half of a life, and you are a completely new person. On the other hand, in this area there is no place for strict formalities, especially since the guys don't look like those who would comply with them. After all they were big kids no matter how mature and pretentious they could look on stage, and you clearly felt it. Maybe your company will help them to relax even more, so there won't be any awkwardness and you will naturally find an edge where all of you will feel comfortable and which no one will cross.

With those thoughts, Carbonara and Rosé you spent your Saturday night watching your favorite series "La Piovra". You got used to such calm and quiet evenings. The era of parties until the morning has passed in the university years, and it’s not that you don’t go to clubs now, it’s just that the older you become the better you began to appreciate moments of silence. Not to be bored alone with yourself is the most valuable skill that you have acquired in your life. Having lived first with your parents for a long time, then getting married early at the age of 20 and having lived with your husband for 3 years, you were essentially not left alone with yourself. Having discovered over time that you feel absolutely nothing for the person whom you said "yes" to in the registry office, you were horrified and frightened to say at least. You thought that you get married once for a lifetime, but it turned out that happy endings exist only in fairy tales. That period of despondency, depression and eventual deepening into work gave its results. Major labels began to notice you, inviting you to musical projects with famous bands such as Maneskin. You worked with them for 1.5 years, leaving after their heyday at the Eurovision, realizing that you can’t give them more. That was your second decision to leave, but unlike the divorce, it didn't bring you much suffering. You understood that you and the group gave each other a lot, and although the parting was bitter, everyone understood that it was necessary. You still remained friends with the guys and periodically wrote off to meet. You planned to go to their concert, but couldn't find the time. And after your assignment to the Monkeys it became even more harder to shedule.

After the divorce you didn't have a serious relationship, instead you had a dream job, money, a car, a country house and even a corgi Grapes. You weren't afraid of the future, loved the time in seclusion and found inner peace by meditating on the production of cider, which was your unusual but very tasty hobby. Were you fully happy, though? Wouldn't you like to cross the threshold of the house and be met not by a dog's barking, but by a warm kiss on the forehead and a quiet "how was your day"? You probably wanted to, but it was hard to admit, especially considering that the fear of intimacy sat somewhere deep inside, not letting you forget the disappointment that you experienced when you removed the engagement ring from your finger. Although you remained friends who didn't hold evil against each other, the bitterness of your marriage was almost impossible to remove from the memories.

But for now, your head has been occupied by the sudden question of where to put Grapes for the duration of the tour...

Monday morning was sunny and peaceful, you woke up in a surprisingly good mood, put on your make-up, put on your favorite lime flared jeans, loaded a case of apple drink from the basemеnt into the car, patted Grapes and drove off to the studio. The road took about an hour, so during this time you managed to phone your father. You haven't talked much lately due to your workload, and now was almost the only time of the day when you were relatively free. You put the speaker phone mode, listening to the slightly hoarse voice of the man, without being distracted from the road.

"Hello my dear! How are you?"

"Hi daddy, I'm fine, going to work right now"

"My busy bee, James has already told me about your progress" you could hear him chuckle, coughing a little. You could only guess what Ford said to your father, because you spoke to him only once in these 2 weeks, when you recalled him after meeting with the group. And not that your story was very colorful. Therefore, the guys or Steven contacted him, and from this point of view, you couldn't imagine what they possibly come up with towards you.

"He assured me the boys liked you"

"Oh, really?" you said on the exhale, squeezing your hands on the steering wheel tightly.

"Yes, James is pleased with you. Well done, babe!" you melted under his words. It felt like you were a little girl again who drew a family picture that was hung on the refrigerator, even though mom and dad looked like monsters.

"Thank you daddy, I'm very happy to be with them actually"

"Of course, in such a company of men. Should I be jealous? 'Cause I looked through their photos on the Internet" dad said proudly, to which you burst out laughing, stopping at a traffic light.

"Dad, c'mon, no! They're too old for me" you laughed.

"10 years are not a big deal. Anyway, your choice. Just don't forget to eat please, I know how tough you work now. Otherwise you'll get drunk on your cider. God, how did you even manage to get into this alcohol sphere..." the man groaned in prostration. You rolled your eyes, but still smiled without answering. You got used to your father's fast flow of different thoughts.

"And don't roll your eyes, little naughty one! I care about you. So if they hurt you, you know who to call, right?"

"Oi, who will offend whom first" you retorted defiantly.

"Okay okay, I won't interrupt anymore. Kiss Grapes for me. I love you"

"And I love you very much, hello mom"

"I'll pass it on, bye!"

You turned off the call, fully focusing on the road. After talking with your parents, you always felt warm in your soul, so up to the studio you didn't leave a smile when you sang songs from the radio under your breath.

You arrived exactly at 2 o'clock, as agreed with Matt, but when you saw a few more cars in the parking lot in addition to the familiar Cadillac, you realized that the guys had been here for a long time. You must have looked a little ridiculous in a business suit and heels and a wooden box under your arm, but you didn't have other choice. Holding the car key in your mouth and trying to press the button at the same time, you clumsily closed the trunk with your leg. A purse was still dangling somewhere on your shoulder, and sunglasses had slipped from head to the bridge of your nose. "Must be an amazing picture to observe" you thought tiredly "Oh, if only Matt were here".

But before you had time to think about it, you heard a soft laugh behind you. You turned around sharply, noticing the frontman smoking alone near the entrance. You spat the key into the box, finally pressing the right button, and shouted

"And how long do you look?"

"I came exactly at the most interesting moment" man smiled, taking a puff.

You heavily crossed the entire parking lot, approaching him. Turner, having finished smoking a cigarette and throwing it into a nearby trash can, silently took the box from your hands.

"Hi, Y/N" he greeted you wheezing nicotine in the lungs.

"Hi," you frowened a little, but slowly added "Alex".

Calling him by his first name was... Unusual. A week ago the appeal to him was exclusively Mr. Turner, but today he was the first to break this line. "Well, apparently, we will both have problems with the boundaries of what is acceptable" bitterly flashed through your thoughts.

You both entered the building - Alex with a box in front, you behind holding the door. The way was silent. You wanted to say something to break this crystal quietness of his, but by the time you mustered up the courage, you stopped at the door 13A. The vocalist pushed it with his left shoulder, squeezing the alcohol forward, and you trotted along.

As soon as you and Alex entered the sound studio, you were immediately greeted with whistling and loud hooting.

"Look who's here, Miss Y/N"

"Hi, guys! I'm here with gifts as promised" you smiled broadly.

Alex at this time put the box on the table and immediately took one bottle for himself.

You noticed that there were Tyler and Tom in the studio as well, so you mentally praised yourself for taking bottles with a margin. You didn't know them personally yet, but was willing to change it. Turner introduced you to the men, and surprisingly you didn't hear his usual sneer in the voice.

"So, welcome Y/N Y/S, she's our manager for the summer before America starts and James gets back"

"Happy to finally meet you!" you were the first to extend your hand to Tyler, which he shook gently, smiling affably, and then to Tom. But he intercepted your hand, kissing your knuckles and making you laugh.

"Mutually, Miss" Rowley said enchanted.

"And she makes her own awesome cider, get one" Matt ordered businesslike, raising his voice from behind the drum kit.

"Yeah, there is enough for everyone, don't hesitate to take"

Evidently you arrived during the break, and before that they had already rehearsed a bit. You were wondering what kind of advice they need from you. The thought that they just needed cider you pushed back with a grin. But Alex, as if reading your thoughts, leisurely started speaking leaning on the table and holding a drink.

"Well, thanks for the cider, but that's not what we called you for. Since you're such a big fan of My Propeller, we discussed it here and decided that it's possible to put one on the set list for a couple of times. So listen to how it sounds, maybe have some ideas or whatevah" he was trying to sound casual, not attaching importance to his words for you.

"I'll do my best!" you almost jumped from such news.

Jamie chuckled audibly, running his fingers over the guitar. You sat down on the couch as Matt tapped the rhythm with his sticks and the melody began.

Seductive. The first association that came to your mind when you heard the intro of this song. It was your favorite from Humbug for sure and one of the band's all time favorites. Alex never told in any interview what was the secret of the lyrics, and probably that was the reason it attracted you even more. The guys played it selflessly, as if there hadn't been those decades that they hadn't performed it. You liked how they gave themselves to the process, even if it was just a rehearsal. They were in simple t-shirts and Matt was proudly wearing pineapple shorts, but you could swear, a real concert was unfolding right in front of you.

When Alex started singing you tried to hide the goosebumps as best as you could, but it hardly worked out well. His voice flowed melodically, not betraying a hint of wheezing or breaking, which could arise due to the age. He closed his eyes, tightly gripping the microphone stand, and moved his feet to the beat, slightly ridiculous, but at the same time gracefully. Throughout the song, you didn’t take your eyes off the group for a minute, sometimes singing along to the words, pulling the last syllable of

Coax me out my law

And have a spin of my propeller

When the song ended, you clapped and Nick even made a mock bow.

“I don’t know how objective my assessment will be, because apart from the words of delight I have nothing to add” you honestly admitted. It seemed to you that you heard Alex's quiet "As I said", but Matt was quick to interrupt him asking you "Actually, we have already decided to play it in Bristol, but the question is where to chip in. We'll definitely not start with this one, and the outro is already completed, so..."

You thought a little, trying to understand what motives My Propeller reminds you of, and then the penny dropped.

"Pretty Visitors!" you exclaimed louder than you should have because your words echoed through the silent studio.

"Smooth interlude from Pretty Visitors, yeah, not bad actually" Alex quickly developed your idea, turning to Matt, as if asking "Do you mind?", but the drummer only closed his eyes approvingly. It seemed that they didn't need any words at all, they could understand each other with guitar riffs and drum brakes. Their connection, it was amazing, honed to automatism for past 20 years. They were like scientists in a chemistry lab mixing potions together in an attempt to make a new elixir. It was magic to come true and watching this process was so intimate that you involuntarily felt the heat on your cheeks, as if you were engaged in voyeurism.

***

The hours in the studio flew by. Fortunately for you, the guys decided to surprise fans with the return of Mardy Bum which will be the opener. The exact setlist for Bristol was confirmed at the end of the rehearsal, bringing back Teddy Picker and The View From The Afternoon as well. So looking at the perfect 21 songs, you could only imagine what they would save for London. Originally you were going to visit their concert in your hometown, you bought tickets as soon as sales were announced, but after James's call you easily gave the ticket to a friend, saying that you had won a jackpot.

Tom and Tyler have already left and the five of you are left. You were sitting on a soft chair, moved from the corner of the room, and the guys opposite on the sofas. The boys had laid down their guitars and you were leding a peaceful conversation about life, since the studio rental time ended only in an hour. You told them about your career in the industry, Maneskin and the part time projects you've been working on lately, omitting the details of your divorce because you thought it was too early for them to immerse themselves in such personal aspects of your life.

"By the way, Vic is your big fan and Alex in particular" you giggled, remembering the way drunk Maneskin bassist told you that she would like to sleep with Turner. Those were the carefree times of your youth you warmly remembered.

"Really?" Matt raised his eyebrows as he sipped his seemingly endless bottle of cider "You still have their contacts, right?"

"Yeah, sure, we even text each other occasionally" you quipped.

"And you didn't say you were working with us?" Heldres was surprised.

"Actually, somehow it didn't seem possible" you lowered your gaze, "I mean what would it look like? "Hey guys, look who's here, I now manage the Monkeys btw?" - so what?"

You could tell by the Cheshire smile on Matt's bristly face that this was exactly how he thought.

"Oh no, Matthew, don't you-"

"Oh yes, darling, dial FaceTime, you'll show them our doll" the man neighed, turning to Alex, who had been sitting quietly on the couch until this moment, and fidgeted in place after the suggestion.

"For God's sake, Matt, what a kindergarten behavior" the vocalist howled irritably, rolling his eyes, "I don't even remember their names".

The idea of making fun of Turner a little for the morning case with the box and taking revenge seemed to you unexpectedly delightful. Your hand automatically sank into your pants pocket, deftly pulling it out into the light and finding the right WhatsApp chat.

"Don't worry, you just have to say hi to Vic, I'm sure you'll be fine" you sang sweetly, glancing slyly at Matt, who chuckled approvingly, glad that you supported his idea.

Alex only cursed at this and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it. Either from nerves, or putting his hair in order before the call.

You moved from your seat to the couch between Alex and Matt, gesturing for Nick and Jamie to join. You put your hand in front of you so only your face was visible in the camera frame, waiting for one of the guys to take the call. It might have been a little ill-advised to call like this without warning on a workday evening, but anyway it was already too late, as the beeps trailed in a string of sounds. You hoped that they didn't have a concert today, in any other case, one of them would definitely pick up the phone from you. And by a happy coincidence, it was Vic who ended up on your screen.

"What the hell, Miss Boogie, are you really occasionally calling after all this time of silence?" despite Victoria de Angelis's accusatory words, she sounded playful. She was a little disheveled and with a bright blush on her face. People were walking randomly with the string interruptions in the background. Apparently, the guys were at the soundcheck at one of the venues, and Vic recently finished playing.

Four pairs of eyes openly stared at you with undisguised interest after hearing the nickname, demanding an answer, but you just mouthed "later".

"Awww, sweetheart, and I'm happy to hear you again too!" you said with an ironic smile.

"I have a lot of news for you, and I will definitely call you in private soon"

"Are you not alone? Who's with you?" the girl even moved closer to the camera in an attempt to see something.

"Well, I have a little surprise for you. Actually four surprises, but one of them you'll find really special" you said conspiratorially, looking around at the guys who were still out of the picture. Alex sat to your right, trying to portray the most distant look, as if everything that was happening was nothing more than baby talk for him.

"Darling, if you have a group orgy without me, then I will be offended and drop the call" the bassist said threateningly, wiping her forehead with a towel that was hung on her shoulder.

You just burst out laughing "Ok ok, I'm not languishing you anymore. I hope you're ready. Boys, say hi to Vics" and you finally moved the camera further so that Matt, Nick and Jamie, who were sitting to your left, got into the camera frame, Alex's appearance you saved for a dessert.

The musician's reaction exceeded all your expectations. At first she narrowed her eyes, bringing the phone even closer to face, and then she widened them with a loud squeal, jumping up from her seat.

"What the hell, Y/N! What the actual fuck, you're a shitty mutherfucker!!!" she covered her mouth with her hand, chaotically moving the phone in different directions. Apparently, other members of the group came running to her scream, as you heard the voice of Damiano asking what happened.

"What happened?" she repeated "The fucking Arctic Monkeys are sitting next to Y/N!" answering a question off-camera and stabilizing the phone. Now you could clearly see the vocalist leaning over her shoulder, Thomas to the side and Ethan slightly behind.

Finally, the men next to you decided to introduce themselves "Hey, guys, what's new?" Matt said smiling to the camera, Jamie and Nick just waved their hands in a friendly manner.

"Oh my God, what's going on" Vic, still dumbfounded, spoke with a face of complete amazement. Damiano, who quickly figured out the whole situation and realized that Vic was unlikely to be able to communicate normally now, carefully took the phone from her hands.

"Hi, Y/N, long time no see! Hi, boys, how fresh you are" the frontman winked. The words "for your age" were suggested mutely, but David left them behind the scenes. The men next to you just laughed quietly at this remark and saluted the Italian boy.

"Vic, that's not all yet, look who's next to me" wanting to finally finish off your friend, you moved the camera to the side, revealing Alex's presence, who was already sitting with a polite smile on his face, leaning on the sofa armrest.

"Hi, love" Turner murmured hoarsely, turning on his usual charisma. You were surprised how quickly he went from "fuck off everyone" to his stage persona. Indeed, a skill acquired over the years.

De Angelis, after looking at the camera for just a second, squealed even harder than the first time, which you even grimaced a little, because in a quiet studio it sounded deafening.

The camera was still held by Damiano, but the girl in the frame could be seen doubled over, holding back cries of happiness. Her guys just laughed out loud at this, knowing full well what a strong fan of Alex she was.

"Y/N, I'm going to fucking kill you, I'll strap your ass so you can't sit still for another week, what are you doing to me?" Vic didn't let go of expressions, which made the men next to you shamelessly laugh, even Turner smiled predatoryly.

"Holy shit, you're real" the girl muttered in one breath.

Her adoration entertained Alex. Celebrities fangirling celebrities wasn't an unknown story for Alex, so the way Vic behaved didn't annoy him, but brought a feeling of sincere pleasure from what was happening.

"It would be strange if I wasn't, mhm?" the man grunted, changing the position - now he rested elbows on his knees, bringing the face closer to your phone. You could smell his light apple scent from the cider you both drank and the cigarette halo that soaked into all of the frontman's clothes.

Damiano finally decided to take control over the situation by turning the camera completely on himself.

"So, Y/N, if you wanted to surprise Vic, then you succeeded 100%! But we are now at soundcheck, and we don't have much time, and she" nodding towards the bassist "still needs to be brought to her senses. We were extremely happy to hear from you, babe. Call us when you are free and tell us everything in detail. Miss you very much!"

"Guys, me too! Love ya, see you at Glasto!"

"Wait! Take a screenshot!" Vic's desperate exclamation came from Damiano's left side.

He made a focused face, looking for the right buttons, while you and the men simultaneously smiled at the camera.

"Send it to the chat" you asked, ending the call and blowing a virtual kiss. You obviously cut off Vic's "I love you" without being entirely sure it was addressed to you.

The studio immediately froze in deafening silence. You put your phone down on the coffee table, still smiling.

"That was a real buzz, they're cute" Matt said leaning back on the couch. The mood of the guys clearly improved by this little conversation. You were glad that you could somehow diversify their evening after a productive and exhausting day. Even Alex stopped keeping his always compressed lips and frowning eyebrows.

"So, Miss Boogie, right?" Jamie began slyly, reminding you of your infamous nickname.

An approving "ooooo" reverberated around the room, from which you hid behind your palms.

"Damn, I was hoping you'd forget" you muttered from your hiding place.

"C'mon, we're intrigued already" Nick reached out to you through Matt, gently taking your hands away from your face.

Jamie suddenly started chanting your name, encouraging you to reveal this terrible secret, and Matt whistled as if Sheffield FC had just scored a goal.

"God, okay, just shut up please" you gave up.

The four men took more comfortable positions in anticipation of your story.

"In fact, there is nothing special in this story, it's just stupid. When Maneskin was approved for Eurovision, we went to celebrate, how can we not. It was in Milan. We got very drunk in a bar and went for a walk around the city. It was about 3 in the morning, and to entertain ourselves we played Truth or Dare. The most banal thing that could be, but nothing better came to mind. And I chose Dare, 'cause everyone else only cowardly told their secrets. So Vic asked me to dance for a minute on the street to any song that a passerby would name. Well, since at such time you are unlikely to meet any adequate passerby, we only found a beggar in the square. I don’t know how old he was, but the first song that he remembered was Boogie Wonderland" at this point you made a dramatic pause, "so yes, I had to dance to this song at night in front of other poor people who came up to us. Since then they call me Miss Boogie. Everyone is satisfied now, having fun, huh?"

You intentionally crossed your arms in insult, surreptitiously watching the laughing band.

"I bet there's a video" Matt said cheekily.

"Yes, there is, but you'll never see it!" you retorted quickly, glaring at the drummer.

"Your hot cheeks make me want to see this video even more" Nick teased tapping Matt on the shoulder.

"You know what," Alex suddenly announced, "choose any song you want. We play it, and you show the video"

You could swear your jaw was somewhere on the floor.

"Woah, did you decide to go all-in?" Matt asked, also not expecting such a generous offer "Be careful, otherwise you will have to play a Taylor Swift song"

"Ouch, why do you think I like her?"

"Who doesn't like her?"

"Your truth" you nodded approvingly.

"I meant our song. We'll perform it at the concert" Turner interrupted your dialogue, looking at you testily from under his eyelashes.

There was a slight silence, which you broke with a heavy sigh.

"Wow, okay, this is getting interesting" you muttered, leaning back on the couch like Helders had done earlier. The three men to your left looked at each other in surprise, waiting for an answer, while you've been thinking, looking at the frontman.

"Certain Romance," you easily stated, "I want this one"

"Your wish is my command, Miss Boogie," he joked without any hint of smile, standing up "you guys remember how to play it, don't you?"

The guys looked at each other dumbfounded, unable to find words for such a drastic change in the behavior of the vocalist, but after a discordant series of affirmative nods, they received a condescending smile from him.

"Well, that's great, there's still time to rehearse. I propose Sheffield!" Alex said solemnly, thrusting his hands into the pockets.

"Al, ru ok?" Matt raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"All right, man" Turner said artificially.

"This house is a circus indeed" swirled through your head. Alex's behavior was defiant. Emerging into conflict. Literally a minute ago everything was peace and quiet, and now he, like a proud peacock, was arranging a show for you at the level of a cheap soap opera.

"No, but seriously, let's even organize a lottery, since Y/N has such an influence on the setlist" Alex didn't let up.

"Come on, pipe down, you suggested it yourself" Nick intervened carefully, not wanting to stir up the smoldering coals of the conflict.

"And I think all of you are into this idea, aren't you?" Turner didn't raise his low, heavily accented baritone, but the underlying toxicity in his tone was evident, "oh, even better, let's ask our Italian friends for advice! Let's get their opinion and her video as well".

"Alexander, smoke?" you stood up decisively from the couch, grabbing your purse and phlegmatically glancing at the wooden cider box you'd probably have to leave in the studio. But you couldn’t leave the guys in such an atmosphere, so out of courtesy you promised to return again.

"Y/N, no problem, see you before Bristol! Send the screen to our group, 'cause I'm getting jealous for these Italians" Matt gave you an encouraging wink in the end, and you certainly promised to do it tonight.

"They'll kill each other"

"He doesn't stand a chance"

Jamie and Matt said at the same time as the door closed behind you.

Alex imposingly walked ahead, not hurrying anywhere. He politely said goodbye to the security guard, noting that the rental period had already come to an end. Almost bowing, he opened the door to the street for you, artificially gallantly holding it with his hand, still making a show from every gesture, which for some reason made you feel disgusted. You were counting on working with middle-aged men, accomplished musicians, but it feels like you are talking to teenagers.

Damp cold air from the river hit your red cheeks, which made you wrap yourself in a jacket more tightly. Alex took out a pack of Marlboro, offering you one, but nodding to himself, removed it, remembering your words a week ago practically at the same place.

"Well?" he said with a cigarette in his mouth, lighting the filter.

The sky was overcast with a milky haze of fog, which wasn't uncommon for these places, a weak wind was blowing, but not a single sound from the road was heard, which made you hear sparks from ignited tobacco hiss like champagne bubbles, falling on the asphalt.

Alex exhaled noisily, squinting at you with his eyes. His face was faintly lit by the flame of a cigarette, but even in such low light, it was noticeable that his gaze was completely blank. "Amazingly indifferent and deep eyes at the same time. It's impossible to tell anything from them" you thought. Or maybe he was like this only with unpleasant people to him, who you apparently were. You can’t even imagine the way these eyes changed on stage "Where are you real, Alexander?". But instead of asking this, you just threw your head back, tiredly closing your eyelids, showing with your whole appearance how absurd the situation is.

"Alex," there wasn't any visible point to call him Mr. Turner even though you were annoyed "I thought we made a deal, didn't we?"

"Really? When?" his voice sounded even more affected than in the studio, despite the fact that now the man spoke rather quietly and slowly. Or maybe even a whisper would be loud in this ringing silence.

"I just don't understand what the problem is" you continued, as if you didn't hear his words.

"I don't see it either, Miss Y/S"

You raised your eyebrows high as you asked a silent question, which made Alex smirk slightly. Taking a puff, he began to explain to you with the intonation of a parent teaching a child not to put his fingers in the socket.

"Listen, I won't hide it, you brought some chaos to our tour. This is different from your direct duties though - to solve all the problems on our way. But you're a stranger who stirred up our peace and foundation. I was initially against this idea, but James left me no choice. You are undoubtedly an educated young lady, and probably from a moral point of view, I sound like a scoundrel now-"

"You sound unprofessional, Alex. You only make me feel contempt, and I don't care about any moral side"

The frontman looked at you from under his brows, taking out a second cigarette in a row from the pack, waiting for a further reaction, but inside you was a frozen magma that didn't want to break out, muffled by self-esteem. For now.

His words contradicted his behavior. In the morning he carries your boxes and asks for a song advice, and in the evening he gives out this shit. If women's logic is ridiculed by society, then men do not have it at all.

“You know what, when James offered me this job, I was damn excited and proud that I would be working with a team like yours. I was on a cloud nine. But you, Alex, you're just a spoiled boy in the body of a 37-year-old man who hasn't overplayed his ambitions and thinks that his subtle nature is so fragile to understand that you need to hide behind the facade of an asshole so that normal people with good intentions don't crawl into your soul. You are cowardly and arrogant!"

You were breathing heavily, and the words "fool fool fool" stretched on repeat in a red line behind your eyes.

You didn't even understand how they escaped from your lips, absolutely thoughtlessly. You even instinctively wanted to raise a hand to cover your mouth, but pulled yourself back in time, deciding to play to the end. Show after show.

Alex hadn't raised a cigarette to his face during your tirade, so that the wick was almost dead in his fingers. You intensively looked at each other without stopping, and at some point it seemed to you that fear flashed in his pupils. Fear of the revealed truth. However, they were covered with a thick veil of indifference to what was happening in a second, and he finally took the last puff, throwing the butt right on the road.

"Miss Y/S, it seems that you have to go" the musician said unemotionally.

You took one last burning look at his features and, without saying a word, turned around towards your car. How ironic, a week ago you left each other in roughly the same sequence of activities - studio, cider, parking lot, but under completely different circumstances.

Slamming the door shut, you sharply revved, not bothering to warm up the engine, and drove out of the parking lot with a clang of tires. Burning tears of resentment gushed from your eyes, covering the already foggy road in front, but you didn't pay attention.

Your cooperation has just begun, and you have already swept on an emotional swing. Only in the morning you were driving in a car towards the sun and rejoicing at the warm words of your dad, and in the evening you return home, wiping the salty paths with the back of your hand from your face.

You were never embarrassed by tears, you cried out almost all of them during a divorce, but if they dripped from your eyes today, then there was a reason for that. Your parents taught you that after rain there is always a rainbow, after tears there is always peace of mind, you need to be able to live through any emotions in order to turn them into your power later.

***

You haven't seen the boys since that evening until today's early departure for Bristol. Of course, you communicated on all sorts of organizational issues during this time and there was no visible tension, especially since they didn't hear about your quarrel with Alex. You were more than sure that he would not tell his friends about that incident. This is what infringes on him, and therefore makes him weaker, which he couldn't allow.

All these days you have wondered what was the reason for such a sharp behavior, however you couldn't really delve into yourself. Why exactly you were crying - from resentment, overstrain or just an emotional outburst, it was also difficult to understand. Perhaps all together. Over the past month, from your first conversation with Ford to recent events, your life has changed 180 degrees, so it's no surprise that your psyche gave a little glitch.

You've comforted yourself with routines though — setting Grapes up with a friend until your next visit to London, inviting your parents over for dinner to tell you all the details, packing your suitcase for the tour, checking out all the technical stuff, and almost forgetting what kind of adventure you're packing for.

And now, without any idea of the nearest future, you were sitting in a black Mercedes Sprinter between Marcus and James Kerr, Ben was in the passenger seat in front, Steven was riding with the group in the bus. It was only 8 am, you were sleepy, only at the last moment you didn’t forget to remove eye patches before going out, you didn’t even put on makeup, so you sat in the wide sunglasses, even though the sun wasn't visible through the tinted windows of the car.

It seemed that everyone was relaxed, easily communicated with each other and knew exactly what each would do upon arrival at the venue. Unlike you. The schedule was pretty clear - check-in at the hotel, lunch, departure for the soundcheck and then free time for the management and the band, but very busy time for the technicians. Of all this, the most sensible thing was to drink plenty of wine at dinner and walk around the rest of the day in a relaxed state of mind, but those were only pitiful thoughts of creeping fear. Deep inside you were sure that everything would be fine, it couldn’t be otherwise, because even if you didn’t know how to do this or that task, the guys knew their duties, and they physically couldn’t play the concert badly.

"Hey, Y/N, you kinda took working with us too seriously" Marcus snapped you out of your thoughts with his mocking tone.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, turning to him.

He touched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and chuckled. It took you another couple of seconds to figure out what he meant, so he took advantage of your confusion to explain "you now going to wear glasses in the dark as well?"

The reference to Alex was read transparently, so you imperceptibly flinched and pointedly removed them, as if not wanting to be associated with him at all.

"No, no, I just didn't have time to do my make up" you honestly admitted, shrugging your shoulders ingenuously.

"Oh, I'm sorry, we-" the guy looked around at all the passengers, "we don't understand this here"

You laughed slightly, at the same time relaxing, and asked him a question that had been of interest to you for a long time.

"Why don't you have women in the team? I mean at all"

Instead of Marcus, Ben decided to answer from the front seat, apparently as the eldest among you.

“It didn’t happen on purpose, but later it became kind of unspoken rule. We are here like on the fishing, you know? We leave our wives, spend time within our male company, it’s like an alternative branch of your life, you do quality work here, you feel needed, while no one owe you nothing and you feel absolutely free in your actions, understanding thoroughly those who are around you"

"Are you aware that this is how a normal team should work, regardless of gender? It sounds somehow sexist. Am I really embarrassing you in actions?" you smiled slyly, anticipating the denouement.

"Actually, besides you, we have 3 other women in the team.." Marcus embarrassingly chipped in.

"Guys, don't bother yourself with excuses, I knew who I was messing with" you laughed, crossing your legs. Marcus looked at you dumbfounded, but said nothing, and James just chuckled softly at the window.

"Well, if you knew that, then you also should know about our tradition, right, guys?" Ben began in a conspiratorial tone, exchanging glances with the guys.

"Um, about what?" you arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

"The newbie is signed up for the after-party. Tonight is your first concert, and after that we go to the bar, the drinks are off you! We're equal here" Ben imperturbably continued to scan your reaction with a fox-eye, waiting for an answer. It's not that you're greedy or unable to pay, but to buy drinks for the whole team...

And as if ahead of your question, the man added "enough management and the band".

As if it changed the essence. But you couldn't refuse, so you mumbled something affirmative, getting a roar of male hoarse laughter in response, and starting to laugh at yourself. You appreciated in people, especially males, this ability - to make a woman laugh. In a time of constant change and stress, finding someone who will make you forget about it was very important.

The rest of the road was spent in the same good mood, and these conversations did help you to forget about your anxiety due to upcoming events. Upon arrival, all the management team and the band settled in the hotel. As James promise, you've been given a private suite overlooking the most beautiful park in the city center. But due to an unknown coincidence, you lived not on the same floor with the attendants, but through the door from the group.

Matt carried your things to your room and you agreed to meet for lunch in 20 minutes.

Since you were able to miraculously did a make up even in the car, thanks to the sensitive driving, now you decided to change into more presentable clothes in which you will be at the concert.

Without changing the habit of choosing clothes carefully and for a long time, you took off your hot sweatshirt, remaining in only sweatpants and starting to go through the whole suitcase in search of those things that would match your mood. You had a couple of looks planned, but today's unexpectedly warm weather changed your plans a little, so you confidently took out a black leather skirt and a white blouse.

A piece of matter fit all your forms perfectly, so you were satisfied with the choice, spinning in front of the mirror by the bed. The black bodice harmonized perfectly with the skirt, and the crazy idea of staying only in it, without putting on anything, flashed through your head like a bullet, but flew out just as quickly as soon as you heard the muffled thud of heels on the carpet outside the door and a muttered "Jamie?" at your door followed by a knock. You hysterically shouted "No!" exactly at the moment when the door opened without a click.

"Shit, Y/N!" Alex, not having time to properly enter your room, but having clearly noticed you in a compromising way, abruptly recoiled, remaining in the corridor, but not completely closing the door so that he could hear you, but not see.

"God! What a mess" you pleaded, rushing to the door. You stuck out only your head, meeting the eyes of the musician, who was discomposedly staring at you point-blank.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Why are you naked?"

You asked at the same time, shouting over each other.

"This is my room! And I'm not naked!"

"Where's Jamie? I thought he was at 312" Turner asked, a little bewildered, clearly embarrassed.

"I have no idea where Jamie is. How did you even get in?" you were still half-dressed, hiding most of your body behind a wooden door.

"I knocked, but it turned out that it was not slammed at all"

"What the fuck? Maybe Matt didn't close when he left," you muttered more to yourself. You clearly saw the question “What did Matt do here?” that arose in Alex’s head, but which he never voiced. Clearly realizing that the dialogue could not be continued in this form, you abruptly switched the subject, trying to tear his eyes from your neck.

"I was changing for dinner anyway, so see you there" you sharply slammed the door in front of him, not wanting to go into details, and tiredly leaned your head against the wooden surface from the inside.

"Crazy" you heard quiet along with receding soft steps.

It was your only meaningful conversation with the singer, since that evening. You understood that it couldn’t go on like this for a long time, but at the moment you didn’t have any ideas how to fix the situation. So you just finally put on the look you chose, after checking that the door was locked, then decided to add a black headband, and being satisfied with your appearance, went downstairs.

After lunch, the whole team went to the stadium, where the technicians had already set up half of the equipment. The guys immediately went to the sound check, and you and Steven went to meet Ashton Gate management. It seemed like there was still plenty of time before the concert, and you thought you would have a few more chances to double-check everything, but in the turmoil that was going on behind the scenes, this turned out to be impossible.

To be honest, you were overwhelmed by what was happening. The soft music, people around, the sun rays moving towards the sunset - this whole scene that was unfolding before you as you unexpectedly stepped onto the empty stage a few minutes before the crowd was let into the stadium looked surreal and incredibly familiar, as if you had been here many times before. The noise and chaos behind you contrasted with the tranquility in front of your eyes. The empty space that was about to be filled with a crowd in just a few minutes brought both excitement and serenity. These were the moments that seemed unreal, but made life worth living.

***

The show was about to start, and you stood next to the dark staircase, where the guys from the dressing room were soon to come up. Leaning on the railing, you nervously twirled a lock of hair around your finger. You went through all the items on the checklist in your head, checking off each one mentally, but something still bothered you.

Alex.

Your unfinished conversations and evasive behavior were weighing on you. You felt guilty, knowing that as his manager, you had behaved tactlessly, driven by emotions. It ate at you from the inside. You decided that you would talk to him today, apologize and put this issue to rest once and for all.

Suddenly you noticed a flickering light from the security, which meant that the group is entering the stage, and you turned sharply, both wanting and fearing to see them. As always, looking luxurious, these four men made their way up to the platform, remaining unnoticed by the audience.

"Good luck, guys! I'm buzzing as hell honestly" you tried to sound confident, but your voice trembled on the last word.

"Miss Y/S, is it just me or are you worried about us?" Nick lightly touched your shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"Well, it's my first time with you" realizing how ambiguous that sounded, you interrupted yourself with a laugh.

"Oh, you'll love it, babe" Matt mimicked a voice from a cheap adult movie, tossing a stick in the air. It seemed like he could find the right words in any situation, and in the future, you would highly appreciate this skill.

All this time, you were glancing at Alex out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his emotions, but he calmly adjusted the folds on his unchanging dark blue jacket and stretched his neck with turns left and right. Seeing that the guys had moved a little away from you, you looked at your watch, estimating that you had 5 minutes maximum, and whispered to yourself "now or never".

"Alex!" you called him out loudly, trying to outshout the crowd "I wanted to talk, I know it's not the most appropriate time, but-"

"Y/N, forgive me, okay," the man unexpectedly began, barely approaching you. For the first time, you saw genuine excitement in his eyes, here, in the darkness of the backstage area of a 30,000-seat stadium. For some reason, only now you clearly feel the difference in height between you two. He looked down at you patronizingly. Maybe it was because of his heels or the knot of nerves in your stomach that made you feel so small in your attempt to hide from his penetrating gaze.

"I've been a complete jerk and acted childish from the very beginning. You didn't do anything to deserve such treatment. I don't want our tension to affect the group and our work in any way, so I admit my guilt"

You stood in shock, slightly opening your mouth. You absolutely did not expect such a turn of events, so your entire improvised speech evaporated from your mind instantly. He suddenly smiled softly, raising an eyebrow, as if asking 'well, what now?' Still not believing what you heard, you nodded your head almost automatically.

"Y-yes, you were a jerk indeed. But I also didn't behave entirely correctly, my first impression wasn't great either," you sighed in frustration, recalling your memories, "I suggest we start over, huh? Hi, my name is Y/N, I'm your new tour manager, nice to meet you" and to confirm your words, you gracefully extended your hand to him.

"Nice to meet you too, I'm Alex Turner, sort of singing here," he shook your hand with an energetic movement. His palm was dry and steady, causing a pleasant warmth throughout your body, "just business then?"

"Just business indeed. And a little bit of music" you said, more relaxed, smiling with all 32 teeth, still holding onto his hand.

"Deal, Miss Y/S"

For a moment, the roar of fans faded away for you, and you only saw the outlines of his pupils in the semi-darkness and his fingers firmly holding yours. However, your fragile moment was promptly ruined by-

"Al, c'mon!" Jamie impatiently called, and your hand felt the gusts of wind instead of calloused skin of the frontman. You watched him walk away in his waddle manner, as he suddenly turned and shouted, winking "By the way, nice lace".

It took you a couple of seconds to understand what was said, and when the meaning of his words reached you, you exclaimed in indignation "You, motherfucker!" almost stomping your foot, but your cry was lost in the wild roar of the crowd, as the guys were already on stage.

It was a miraculous sight. Four men made people go into ecstasy just with their appearance - this is the phenomenon of the Beatles, and they were proof that rock and roll is alive. As long as they are alive. Every strum on the guitar strings, every touch of the lips to the microphone, every drumstick strike, every hair flip was special in their performance, they themselves were special.

You were fascinated, to say the least. When the performance came to the last song before the encore, Body Paint, one of your favorite songs from the album, that was definitely made to be played live, you were out of words. The whole song built you up to the climax, to the outro that every time was a pure jamming and improvisation. And you literally exploded in ecstasy when Alex started walking around the stage, unable to stand still from the knocking down energy. He closed his eyes in languor, biting his lips, screaming, throwing out his arms, and you couldn't take your eyes off. You weren't dancing or jumping, you were inseparably watching his every movement, arms folded across your chest. Your mouth was agape against your will, and your eyes eagerly punched a hole in the frontman. This is a unique performance, it's something that is hard to explain without feeling it for yourself. You were made up of his music, you literally felt these waves inside your veins, your brain wasn't able to comprehend what was happening, it was like a catharsis for all of you. And you definitely didn't want to be saved.

Suddenly Alex turned his head to your side, continuing to play some divine riff outlining the Van Gogh fields on the guitar strings. His hair was tousled, shirt unbuttoned, but his jacket fitted perfectly. He rested his eyes on your figure, smiling with one corner of his lips, and you looked at each other for good seven seconds which felt like eternity. You were sure that everything was clear in your eyes, and even if he stood next to you and heard you, you wouldn't be able to utter a word.

What you definitely didn't expect when your eye contact was broken and Alex walked to another side of the stage, that tears would involuntarily flow from your eyes. "What the hell..." you wondered aloud, quickly removing the salty tracks from your cheeks. In fact, you perfectly understood why you were crying. From a sense of greatness. The greatness of music, human synergy and the power of unity. It was too much for you, too strong emotions to bear. It was excellent, it was the taste of life, thanks to which you still were here. "God, if you exist, bless this band, they are saints" although it sounded ridiculous and naive, you seriously were ready to pray for the talent of these guys, for the ability to make other people feel alive. You were in your place, you did everything right, you were cruising the victory. Today he convinced you.

As soon as the last chords of "RU Mine?" were played and the bows to the fans were taken, the men disappeared from the deafening roar behind the dark curtains of backstage. Their hair stuck to their sweat faces, and a distinct masculine smell was coming from their shirts. The guys passed by you with exhausted smiles, unable to utter a word from fatigue, and disappeared into the darkness of the corridors.

You didn't know what to do right now. According to your understanding, your job didn't end with pre-concert organization, there were also post-concert tasks to be done. But you were so lost in emotions that you felt like you were drifting away from an anaphylactic shock.

Unexpectedly, Tyler came to you as he was the last one to come off the stage. He fraternally put a hand on your shoulder, tousling your hair with his heavy palm.

"Well, with the initiation into our hell, sweetheart. How're you?"

"Thrilled, and I want more!" you declared confidently, matching his quick pace that was pulling you further away from the frenzy of the crowd.

"Well, don't doubt that, it's just the beginning" he charmingly smiled, and you couldn't help but mirror his expression.

"Now we're going to celebrate, and you're coming with us" it sounded so authoritative that even if you wanted to object, you immediately closed your mouth, nodding in agreement. "Besides, seems like you need to unwind" you remembered.

You left the stadium only an hour later, apparently, it was a normal time for the guys to "recover". You'd made several jokes about one woman waiting for seven men and received offended and teasing looks in return. You got into the same Mercedes you arrived in that morning, and the driver took you to one of Bristol's typical English pubs that the guys loved so much.

You didn't understand their fondness for these quaint places where the sofa upholstery hadn't changed along with the owner. There were so many modern bars in the city, any of which the band could afford to rent entirely, but they paid tribute to traditions, obviously cherishing memories of their lively youth when they started playing their first concerts in similar places. Such a return to their roots after the thousands-capacity stadiums grounded them well. And the warm nostalgia, slipping across the Guinness glasses every time, was a corner of genuine joy for the guys, the only true luxury they possessed.

And overall, you didn't care where to spend money or on what. After all today's events, which felt like a whole month, you didn't mind anymore. In the morning, you looked at your apple orchard in the early mist of suburban London, then stood half-naked in a five-star hotel room in front of a world-renowned music star, and now, in the evening, you huddled next to him on an old leather couch under a red velvet chandelier, drinking a B-52.

Glasses, shots and colorful bottles flashed in front of your eyes like a kaleidoscope. Your head was spinning from the amount of alcohol, and your cheeks hurt from laughter.

"My dear mates, I propose a toast to Miss Y/S and her first concert with us! I don't know if she understands where she has ended up, but we'll make sure she has a great time with us, right, guys? To Y/N!" Matt solemnly proclaimed, rising from the table, and 8 hands, pouring drinks onto each other, reached towards the center of the table to clink glasses.

"Guys, thank you for this opportunity, thanks to James for his unplanned vacation, thanks to Steven and Marcus-" although the latter wasn't here, you decided to thank him as he had been providing you with all kinds of help during these weeks, "for their support and adaptation, and of course, to you Monkeys, for accepting me. I do like your crazy Monkey house" you joked, but it didn't negate the truth. Despite all the past disagreements with the lead singer, you felt that you were still doing everything right. And even if you hadn't gone on this adventure today, you would still feel grateful to fate for such an opportunity to be at the center of life.

"Glad to hear that," Jamie chuckled ironically, "as they say, welcome aboard"

And with these words, you all whistled, and Tom even shouted like a saloon girl from the Wild West. Your evening, or rather the night, continued until 3 am, fortunately there was no concert the next day, so you could at least sleep in a bit. You looked in horror at the amount you had drunk, trying to estimate how long it would take to recover the contents of your wallet. But you had consumed so much gin and tonic that the only thing that really worried you was how to walk straight for at least 2 meters to the bar to pay for it all.

"Drinks on me!" you declared with a mischievous smile to the group as you headed towards the bar counter.

"What, for everyone?" Matt playfully refined.

"Well, yeah," you didn't have the energy to realize his surprise, but he also didn't have the energy to argue with you, "that's no problem".

And thus, the following events spun in your head like a foggy whirlpool. Here you were finally breathing in the fresh air of the street, tilting your head towards the purple sky, then you were half-lying on someone's shoulder in the black minivan, and finally for no reason you were walking barefoot on a soft hotel carpet, but there were no shoes in your hands as well.

You didn't have any memories of walking into your room either. But in the moment, the feeling of soft snow-white hotel sheets flooded your body with long-awaited bliss. You instantly fell into the arms of Morpheus, only on the verge of consciousness noticing that someone took off the headband from your hair, which had been squeezing your head tightly, and silently closed the door.

You may be too drunk to remember each of your actions clearly, but you definitely wouldn't mistake the familiar scent of cigarettes in the room.

---------------------------------------------------

A/N: Oh, so much has happened in one chapter, and this is just the beginning of the tour... I decided to tell the background of Y/N for a better understanding of her actions. What do you think, maybe you want more of "Italian friends" in the work? Whose line do you want to read in more detail? Share your emotions, it is incredibly valuable to me that someone reads this work actually!

xo🤍

Taglist: @missbabyjay @rentskenobi @findmeincorneliastreet @indierockgirrl here it is!

*if you want to be removed or added to the taglist, feel free to ask me!

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cafeinthemoon · 1 month

Text

It's a Fire - Chapter I

Chapter 1

Wordcount 3,5k

Title Retired Hashira

Fandom Kimetsu no Yaiba / Demon Slayer

Symbols ⭕ ➕ 🖤

Warnings: arranged marriage; age gap; mentions of increasing in criminality and poverty; grieving; non diagnosed depression (the condition wasn't properly understood by the time this story is settled)

Tagging ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N.A.: So Kimetsu no Yaiba returned and I'm taking the opportunity to finally start posting this story that has been in my list of ideas for several months!

A while ago I made a poll where I included the option of writing a fic with the Rengoku family, and it was this one I was talking about. I know there are other stories I need to work on already, but let me tell you that this very fic just saved me from a creative block, which was caused by what I suspect to be the beginning of a burnout (I'm about to go on vacation and I just can't take it anymore, but I don't want to discuss this rn).

A few words about the ff itself: It's a slow burn, arranged marriage story between reader, who's 27/28 yo, which makes her closer to myself who's a bit older than this, and Shinjuro Rengoku, who's struggling with the same problems we see in canon, but somehow accepts her as his wife: she was the daughter of old acquaintances of his, so the marital contract is sealed to allegedly honor the friendship between the families. However, things are way more complicated in reality.

Of course, because of the things we see in the original media, such as violence, alcoholism and etc., I need to make it clear that my personal opinions on these subjects may diverge from what I'm putting in this story (due to personal family experiences), and each chapter will carry the necessary warnings. Also if you notice similarities with Beauty and the Beast, know that it isn't just a coincidence haha Finally, the title is a song by Portishead, which didn't influence my writing but its lyrics somehow fit this plot 🌹

I hope you have a good time reading this ❤

“You walk a lonely road

Oh, how far you are from home”

(Enya, May it Be)

That fate didn’t care about your preferences and desires, you knew well.

You wished you had your mother with you for long years, and that your relationship grew stronger as you spent your time together, dedicating yourselves to the art of the sword, but most of her time and energy were directed to her work as a member of the Demon Slayer Corps, and it was like this until the day you received a messenger from Ubuyashiki-sama to inform you about her death: she didn’t fall to the Oni, but couldn’t resist the injuries from a battle against a group of them.

You also wished your father, after losing the woman he claimed to love, stood up to his remaining family, that is, himself and you, and took reasonable measures to protect his territory and the people who lived in it, but he preferred to lock himself in his office and ignore the demands outside it, firing half of the house’s servants for the sake of saving money and willing to leave the property to the dust and the insects, not seeing this happening thanks to you, who took the task of maintaining everything by yourself, even doing some of the physical work.

There were, in fact, many other things you wished for, but didn’t have the chance to see them coming true. One of those other things were continuing to live in the house you grew up in, and using your education to dedicate your life to a career of your choice, though your options seemed limited by your sex. But even this was taken from you when, on an ordinary day, you saw your father leaving his office in the company of a man you’ve never seen in your life. You wanted to question him about this strange visit, but you didn’t have to: your father came to your chambers later, and without measuring his tone or giving you time to process such news, explained the meeting’s main subject.

– I’ve recently contacted an old acquaintance of mine, someone who was also known by your mother – he started – And explained our situation here.

You knew what he was talking about: after your mother passed away, your lands’ protection has been neglected, and appearances of demons have been reported more often by your servants and the people who live in the villages near. No one dared leaving their houses at night, and the local economy were deeply affected by this, since part of the basic work used to be done in this period of the day; this led to an increase in poverty and criminality. You, on your part, weren’t immune to these difficulties despite growing up in a privileged family.

Your father addressing this situation to you, however, was something new, and you exposed this impression to him.

– Things are getting harder for everyone here, that’s true – you agreed – But why are you discussing this with me now?

– Because I asked this acquaintance for help, and he answered me – he took slow steps toward your window, half opened by that time; he closed it with firm hands, but without making much noise – The thing is that, at the same time our lands are now dangerous to people, specially to young women like you, it’s time for you to take the next big step in your personal life, daughter. After all, you’re almost twenty-eight.

You frowned.

Next big step? What is he talking about?…

Your father might have noticed your confusion, because he soon clarified his words… and you wished he never did it.

– I’m talking about marriage, y/n – he spat – You declined the last two proposals, and I respect your reasons for that, but this time the circumstances aren’t in our favor. This man who visited me earlier is a messenger from the Rengoku House, and he brought me a positive answer from their head: I offered your hand and a good dowry in exchange for your protection, and in respect to your mother, who worked for the same cause as him, Shinjuro Rengoku accepted you as his wife. You’re leaving the house this week.

You were speechless. You tried to stand up and show a sign of protest, but your legs didn’t obey you; you opened your mouth to say something, but no word left it. You knew your father have been struggling, but you could never suppose he was becoming insane – arranging a marriage for you without your consent? Other men used to do this to their daughters, but the man who married your mother would never… But, apparently, he was no longer this man.

Maybe he was expecting some disagreement, but seeing your silence made him frown.

– Don’t you have anything to say about this?

You finally seemed to wake up. You gave him a dead glare, murmuring your response.

– And what do you expect a woman to say after being sold and sent away from her own house out of nowhere? – you moved your head to the side, irony leaking from the gesture – Thank you?

Your father clenched his jaw.

– I certainly don’t expect your gratitude – his voice was lower now – I know this isn’t the future you wanted for yourself, and I didn’t want things to be like this either, but…

– Why marriage, father? – your tongue was released, interrupting his thread of thoughts like a storm – I could stay temporarily with them, work for them, anything! But marrying someone I’ve never met?! Don’t you remember that I’ve declined the other proposals after at least seeing the faces of those men?

– You’ll meet him on the wedding day, and you’ll have all the time of the world to know anything there is to know about him – his tone was louder again, as his patience was running low – Besides, Shinjuro is an old friend of mine. I give you my word that he’s a decent man, besides being a formidable warrior. He was married to a respectable woman once, and built a good family with her. I trust him, and so did your mother. No problems should be expected from his part, so the same must be expected from you.

Shinjuro. It was only the second time you’ve heard that name from your father’s mouth, and you didn’t know what to think. In fact, you’ve learned from your mother that among the Demon Slayer Corps there was an elite group known as the Hashira, and one of them was Shinjuro, the Hashira of the Flames. He was the current head of the Rengoku family, but personal struggles – including the death of his wife – forced him to a retirement despite his capacity as a warrior, so that his eldest son, Kyojuro, took his place. However, you also heard that this young man was dead, so it was impossible to tell how things were going for his family members now. And that was the environment your father was willing to throw you into, even spending money in the process.

You sighed.

– Father, when was the last time you’ve met this man? I don’t remember you talking about him – you crossed your arms – I’m only familiar with his name thanks to mother, but now you’re telling me that he’s an old friend of yours. How old is he, exactly?

– Not as old as me, of course – his reply came with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation – I can’t believe that, of all the things involved in this arrangement, this is what concerns you more!

You scoffed.

– I’m not that futile, but if he’s old enough to have a son capable of replacing him in the battlefield, I think I have the right to be concerned! – you took a step toward him – If I have no choice, I want to know exactly where I’m getting into. Can’t you even make such a small concession to me, father?

No, he couldn’t, and you soon realized that.

Your father decided the conversation was over. He returned to the room’s door and opened it.

– It is decided, already – and, with a sort of sadness in his eyes – I’m doing what I think it’s best for my daughter. I only wanted her to trust me, at least for once.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

– I wanted this too, father. But you’re making it too difficult for your daughter.

He stared at you for a moment, then left without any word.

***

Things really happened the way you feared, in the path your father stated they would follow. He said that, but until the end he kept acting like he had no control over the flow of events, in a frail attempt to soothe his own conscience that only served to unnerve you, and not even seeing the disappointment in his daughter’s eyes each time he looked at you was enough for him to leave this pretense aside. Had he no shame anymore?

During that fateful week, you avoided his company, leaving the burden of communication to the remaining servants and only speaking to him when utterly necessary. What was left for you to talk about when, as he said, everything was decided, and when you had nothing but sadness for him — for him, the adversities he’s been through and for the way he chose to behave in face of them? It was useless to argue on this, and whether you liked it or not, you had little time to put everything in order and couldn’t have the luxury of wasting it: would it be worthy to cause a delay in the arrangements under the risk of leaving a bad impression in your future spouse, even when he was someone you’ve never saw before?

You sighed at the thought.

And, as if I hadn’t enough things to worry about, I still have to consider this.

In fact, you didn’t want to take much stuff from that house with you at the same time you didn’t want to cause any difficulties to the servants, who have already seen their load increase the last months, so you were quick to select essential items and packing them with the help of a maid, from your clothes to the gifts brought by your mother, and instruct her about what to do with the other things: some of them you gave to her, knowing that she had a daughter who was younger than you and who’d appreciate your charity, and the others, such as the furniture, should be sent to the villagers, for you wanted your things to be with people who would make good use of them instead of letting them rot in a place to where you’d never come back.

Among all of this, the last object you packed was the only thing you made a point about carrying by yourself, and the only thing you didn’t trust anyone to pack but yourself: the sword of your mother, which was sent to your house by Ubuyashiki-sama and now belonged to you. Your mother has been teaching you lessons since you were a teenager, but she hasn’t lived long enough to see if you were going to develop your own Breath; well, until that day you haven’t, but you’ve never stopped practicing even under your father’s disapproval. You didn’t know what you would find once you stepped into your husband’s house, but you wouldn’t want to depend on his protection on everything; besides, having a wife who knew how to wield a sword must be an advantage, right?

The train of thoughts, feelings and concerns was such that you were robbed from sleep the night before the ceremony. You knew women who had their marriages arranged as well, but you never got to talk to them about it; you had no idea of how you were supposed to feel, or how you were supposed to see the whole thing. How one should feel when they saw themselves trapped in a situation from which they couldn’t get out? Without having answers, you just relied on the feeling that seemed reasonable to you, that is, utter fear.

The next morning came silent and inexorable, just as the ones before it, and you saw yourself leaving your bed and taking care of your duties without putting your thoughts on them. It was only your body working by itself, saving your soul from the burden of being conscious, or perhaps you were just accepting your fate after a night of tears and rage.

Having dismissed the maid’s help, you bathed and dressed alone, and left the house where the most important moments of your life took place without one last look. To be fair, your eyes were so sore and tired that they barely registered the appearance of the weather while you walked to the carriage, but you guessed it was a warm, sunny day, though not enough for you to get sweaty. Your father was already in the carriage’s interior; you took the seat beside him with no signs of acknowledging his presence.

The coachman shook the reins and yelled something to the horse, and the crack of the wooden wheels was heard as the vehicle moved along the road.

***

The ceremony took place in a building in the city of (…), near your father’s property, which served as the head office of a group of law professionals, including the man responsible for your marital contract.

You wouldn’t call it a ceremony, really: it was more of a sequence of bureaucratic procedures than a social event with the purpose of uniting two families; a mere formality to allow you to move to a man’s house without ruining your reputation. It was quick, direct and cold like a financial operation, and the people involved seemed to make sure it looked like this.

Your father led you to a sequence of stairs and then through a narrow corridor, until he stopped in front of a door and opened it, entering the room and inciting you to follow him. You did it, and found out you weren’t the first to arrive: the officiant was already in his position, behind a table upon which you saw an open book; at its right, there was a small inkwell and a feather; around him, two officers which function you couldn’t guess and couldn’t care about. And, finally, in front of the table and observing your arrival with a stern glare, the man who was about to become your husband.

Whatever you were expecting to see, Shinjuro was nothing like you might have imagined, except for the fact that he was younger than you supposed – and, indeed, younger than your father – and stole the attentions among all those men despite the quiet, composed manners. Well, he would do it in any place he’d step in, for his appearance was extravagant, to say the least: on his severe face he carried a pair of orange eyes under two thick, black eyebrows, a wild trait that made you think of a lion; framing his expression and matching his eyes, he had thick, blond hair that decreased to red on its edges, spreading over his shoulders. And, as if his looks weren’t enough to draw the whole room’s attention, he was dressed in sober, dark clothing, more like someone attending a western funeral than a wedding.

As you walked to the center of the room, led by your father, and took the spot beside Shinjuro, you felt your skin burning in discomfort under his merciless eyes. You breathed deep and, when he nodded to acknowledge you two, you made an effort to greet him, as well as the other men.

I knew he wasn’t the same person my father claimed to know. He stated that he was good and trustful, but everything in this man screams danger. What kind of hell I’m getting into…

The officiant announced the beginning of the ceremony, and you turned to him in silence. After a few, composed words to the new couple, he gave you both clear instructions on where to sign your names, and you did as he said, Shinjuro first, then you; you glanced at his hand offering you the feather and took it in a second, taking care your hand didn’t touch his. You tried not to think of your gestures as you wetted its tip on the ink, but a tremble reached your wrist the instant you approached the feather from the paper.

So… That’s it. I write my name in a book and enter a path from where I can’t go back.

The realization was too much to bear and time was passing, so you bit your inner cheek to prevent your mind to entertain the thought and scribbled your name at once. When you moved the feather away and put it back on the inkwell, your hand acted by itself, and your arm gone numb once you recoiled it to your side.

Your mouth was dry, and a hole seemed to have taken the place of your heart. You barely noticed when the officiant and the other witnesses analyzed your signatures and approved them, bringing the ceremony to an end. You refused to believe all of that was real until the man announced you were free to go, and both Shinjuro and you turned away, preparing to leave. He didn’t bat an eye at you while doing so.

The head of the Rengoku family stopped to exchange some words with your father. You were close enough to hear the conversation, but didn’t want to pay attention; you just wanted to leave this place, even though you weren’t going to a familiar one after it.

You only understood their conversation was over when you heard your father’s voice calling your name. You turned to him and your stomach curled in disgust when you saw the pleading smile on his face, the only thing that reminded you of home and now a sign of everything you lost. You’ve never felt so alone.

Later, you’d try to remember his exact words for you at that moment, but you’d find yourself unable to do it. Maybe it was a formal wish of good luck or something. The only thing you remembered was your reaction: you stared at him for a few seconds, then, without a word, you turned your face away, walking toward the door. You knew your husband was observing, but his approval was the least of your preoccupations now.

***

Little was recalled by you from the travel to the Rengoku house, except that it was silent, even calm period. The only abnormality was caused by you: unlike your other belongings, who were sent in another vehicle ahead under the supervision of a servant, you decided you were going to carried your sword with you in the carriage, to everyone’s surprise and your father’s discontentment.

That occasion was also when Shinjuro spoke to you for the first time.

— Why are you doing this?

The question, made when you were already in the carriage, was direct but not devoid of politeness, so you granted him an honest answer.

— This sword once belonged to my mother, and now it is mine. If my father had his way, I’d never carry it with me, but I refuse to leave it behind — and, glancing at him, — I couldn’t risk him checking my things and subtracting it from them without my consent.

Shinjuro only murmured an “I see” in response, and the conversation died there.

You were beside the carriage’s window and might have slept to the warmth of the sun and the constant noise of the wheels in movement, but you weren’t sure if you did. As your body was now avoiding visible reactions, your spirit was suppressing the emotional rush for your own good, since no advantage would come from a breakdown in the middle of the road, right in front of your new spouse who, just like you, didn’t seem all pleased with the whole thing: sure, he didn’t show visible discontentment whether with your appearance or your manners, but you’ve been dealing with middle aged men for too long to sense when they were seeing something they didn’t find appropriate; and, in the present case, it was clear to you that Shinjuro already formed his opinion: to him, you were a stubborn, spoiled brat who didn’t have her way and was decided to make it everyone else’s problem. Yes, the idea of acting like that wandered through your mind for a while, but you thought you were better than this, and opted for a balance between bitterness and decency, not wearing plain clothing and displaying rude manners, but also not being extravagant in anything; still, you couldn’t convince the man of your good nature, and he let it clear with the inquiring about the sword, so now you completely gave up on seeking his favor.

You were just waiting for the travel to end.

Chapter 2

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba rengoku #kny rengoku #shinjuro rengoku #rengoku shinjuro #shinjuro x reader #shinjuro rengoku x reader #rengoku shinjuro x reader

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