#how to get women into engineering? uh

[very-uncorrect]

Aughhh I have work experience on Tuesday and Wednesday

[cressidagrey]

Classified Information

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Francesca Howard (Original Character)

Summary:

Liam Lawson tries to flirt with Red Bull’s new CTO.

Turns out, she’s Dr. Francesca Howard.

Also known as Max Verstappen’s wife.

And the mother of his son.

Oops.

Warnings and Notes: 

....Poor Liam is really going through in this.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Liam Lawson liked to think he had good instincts.

They had served him well in his racing career—knowing when to attack, when to defend, when to push and when to back off.

But apparently, those instincts failed him spectacularly the day he walked into the Red Bull factory for his seat fitting and met Francesca Howard for the first time.

He had heard the name before, of course. Everyone in the industry had. Francesca Howard—brilliant, ruthless, and the woman who had taken over as Red Bull Racing’s Chief Technology Officer after Adrian Newey’s departure.

What Liam hadn’t heard, however, was that she was also absolutely stunning.

She stood near the RB21 chassis, tablet in hand, deep in conversation with a few engineers. Her tone was sharp but calm, confident without arrogance, completely in control of every discussion around her.

And, Liam noted, she had a hell of a presence.

He adjusted the sleeves of his hoodie, rolling his shoulders back. He was good with first impressions. No harm in introducing himself, right?

He took one step forward—

And suddenly, he felt a hand grip his arm like a vice.

“Nope.”

Liam turned, startled, to find Gianpiero Lambiase looking at him like he was the biggest idiot to ever walk into the Red Bull garage.

Liam frowned. “What?”

GP sighed heavily, like this was already too much effort. “Don’t do it.”

Liam blinked, confused. “Do what?”

GP nodded toward Francesca. “Whatever you’re about to attempt over there—just don’t.”

Liam scoffed. “I’m literally just introducing myself.”

GP leveled him with a look, looking at him like he had just tried to run slick tires in the rain. “And yet, I’m still telling you not to.”

Liam folded his arms. “Why? Is she scary?”

GP snorted. “Not to me.”

That wasn’t an answer.

Liam narrowed his eyes. “Alright, what’s the deal?”

GP sighed again, rubbing his temples like he was too old for this conversation. “Lawson. I know you think you’ve got game. But trust me—not this time.”

Liam tilted his head. “What, is she taken or something?”

GP didn’t even bother looking up from his laptop as he muttered, “Something like that.”

Liam hesitated, suddenly feeling like he was missing some critical piece of information.

But then he shook it off. How bad could it be?

“C’mon,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

GP sighed again, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “rookies never learn” before shaking his head.

“Fine,” he said, stepping back and folding his arms. “Do what you want. But when this backfires, I’m not saving you.”

Liam rolled his eyes and kept walking.

How bad could it possibly be?

At worst, Francesca Howard would roll her eyes at him and shut him down politely. No harm done.

So he straightened his shoulders and walked over.

He liked to think he was pretty smooth, after all. 

Not in an arrogant way—just in a self-aware way. He had a certain charm, an easy confidence. People liked him. Women liked him.

What was the worst that could happen? Mild embarrassment? He’d survive.

So he walked up to Francesca Howard, clearing his throat as she studied something on her tablet.

“Miss Howard,” he greeted smoothly, flashing his most easygoing grin. “Liam Lawson. Figured it was time we officially met.”

She looked up, brow arching slightly, her expression somewhere between amused and unimpressed.

“Dr. Howard.”

Liam blinked. “Huh?”

Francesca tilted her head. “I have two doctorates. If you’re going to address me formally, at least get it right. Otherwise, you can just call me Francesca. It’s my name.”

Liam froze.

Two doctorates?

Two?!

He cleared his throat. “Uh. Right. Dr. Howard.”

Her smirk did not help his sudden feeling of impending doom.

Behind him, GP sighed loudly.

Liam could feel himself slipping.

Not in a physically tripping over a curb way—though, honestly, he wouldn’t put that past himself at this point—but in a mentally trying to keep up and failing spectacularly way.

Francesca Howard was too smart for her own good.

Or, rather, too smart for his own good.

And she knew it.

“So,” he started, recovering as best as he could. “Two doctorates, huh?”

She gave him a patient smile, the kind teachers gave students who had just asked an embarrassingly obvious question.

“Yes,” she said. “One in Aerospace Engineering, one in Physics.”

Liam nodded slowly, stalling for time.

“Right. Cool. Just… y’know, casual, two whole doctorates.”

Francesca smirked. “You only need one to replace Adrian Newey. I like to be thorough.”

GP, still lurking nearby, snorted loudly.

Liam ignored him.

“Well,” Liam said, shifting his weight, trying to regain some sense of control in this conversation, “I guess it’s a good thing we have the best of the best in charge.”

Francesca hummed, looking entirely unaffected. “I know.”

Liam blinked. “You know?”

“Yes.”

“No hesitation?”

Francesca shrugged. “Why would I hesitate? It’s a fact.”

Liam opened his mouth, then shut it.

Then opened it again.

Then shut it again.

There was no winning here.

Behind him, GP sighed loudly, shaking his head. “I told you, kid.”

Liam Lawson had officially lost control of this conversation.

Dr. Francesca Howard—too smart for her own good, owner of two doctorates, and completely unbothered by his attempts to charm her—had thoroughly handed him his ass in a simple conversation.

And now, he was trying to figure out how to exit gracefully without admitting defeat.

(There was no graceful exit. He was so screwed.)

But before he could say anything else, a new voice cut in.

“You’re making this too easy for her.”

Liam turned—only to freeze at the sight of Max Verstappen walking into the garage.

With a baby in his arms.

Liam blinked. What.

Francesca’s expression instantly softened, her entire demeanor shifting as she abandoned whatever she had been working on and zeroed in on Max and the baby.

“There’s my boy,” she murmured, ignoring Liam completely as she reached for the baby, lifting him easily into her arms.

Liam blinked. What the hell was happening?

The baby—who had Verstappen blue eyes and a suspiciously familiar frown—giggled, grabbing at Francesca’s hair. 

“Did Papa bring you to see me?” she cooed, pressing a kiss to his tiny forehead.

Max, standing there with all the smugness of a four-time World Champion who knew exactly what he was doing, crossed his arms. “He missed you. You’ve been working too much.”

Francesca hummed, rocking the baby slightly. “That’s because someone keeps breaking parts, Maxie.”

Max did not look even a little guilty.

Liam, meanwhile, was still trying to process the absolute madness unfolding in front of him.

Papa?!

My boy?!

MAXIE?!

“What,” Liam said, voice slightly higher than normal, “the actual hell is going on?”

Francesca turned to him, just now remembering he existed.

She sighed but lifted her left hand, flashing a wedding band so obvious that Liam genuinely hated himself for not noticing it earlier.

Liam’s entire brain short-circuited. 

“We’re married,” she said casually. 

Liam choked.

“You’re—WHAT?!”“You’re—” He pointed between them. “Since when?!”

Max grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “A while now.”

Liam turned back to GP, who looked entirely unshocked by this development.

GP sighed. “Tried to warn you.”

Liam needed a second.

No—he needed several seconds.

Because nothing about this situation made sense.

Dr. Francesca Howard—Red Bull’s new Chief Technology Officer, terrifyingly smart, and the owner of two doctorates—was married to Max Verstappen.

And, apparently, they had a whole baby together.

A whole baby.

Liam had spent months hearing rumors about who would replace Adrian Newey. He’d even done his research—looked into Francesca’s background, her achievements, the way she was basically a walking encyclopedia of aerodynamics and engineering.

But nowhere in his research had it said, Oh, by the way, she’s married to a four-time World Champion.

And definitely nowhere had it mentioned, They have a baby together, too.

Liam opened his mouth, then shut it. Then opened it again.

Then shut it.

Francesca, still holding the baby like he was the only thing in the world that mattered, raised an eyebrow. “You okay, Lawson?”

Liam pointed between her and Max, looking vaguely like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

“You—you—” he sputtered. “This—How did nobody tell me this?!”

Max, clearly enjoying every second of this, shrugged. “We don’t exactly make announcements.”

“You—” Liam gestured wildly at Francesca holding the literal Verstappen baby. “—You have a whole kid together!”

Francesca tilted her head, unimpressed. “Yes, Liam. That’s generally how it works when you’re married.”

Liam let out a strangled noise.

Max chuckled. “You thought you had a chance with her, didn’t you?”

Liam groaned, dragging both hands down his face.

GP, still entirely unshocked, clapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder.

“Lesson learned?” GP asked, smirking.

Liam exhaled sharply, looking so very done with this entire team.

“Right,” he said finally, voice still slightly higher than normal. “So, just to recap—”

He pointed at Max.

“Four-time World Champion, absolute menace on track, king of the grudge-holders.”

Max smirked. “Correct.”

Liam turned to Francesca.

“Chief Technology Officer, too smart for her own good, owner of two doctorates—”

Francesca looked far too amused. “Correct again.”

Then Liam gestured wildly at the baby.

“And now you—together—have a whole child?”

Francesca, unfazed, adjusted the baby against her hip. “Would you prefer we only had half a child?”

Liam let out a deeply pained groan.

Max chuckled. “You’re making this too easy for her.”

Liam ignored him and turned back to GP, who was completely unbothered, like he had seen this exact scenario play out before.

“You knew,” Liam accused.

GP snorted. “Obviously.”

Liam threw his hands in the air. “Does the entire team know?!”

Max shrugged. “The ones who pay attention.”

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t want to know.”

Francesca, still holding the baby like Liam’s existential crisis was just background noise, turned to Max.

“I’m assuming you didn’t just come down here to break the rookie?” she asked dryly.

Max grinned. “No, I wanted to see you. And I think Joshua missed you.”

As if on cue, the baby—Joshua, apparently—made a happy babbling noise and patted Francesca’s face.

Francesca melted. “Oh, my love, I missed you too,” she cooed, kissing his forehead.

Max leaned down and kissed Francesca, quick and familiar, like it was second nature.

Liam immediately looked away.

“Right,” he muttered. “Nope. That’s enough for me today.”

Max pulled away, still looking far too pleased. “You sure? I could tell you how we met.”

Liam pointed aggressively at him. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Max just laughed.

Liam exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Okay. Fine. You win.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “We were playing a game?”

“I don’t know, Verstappen,” Liam muttered. “But if we were, you won.”

Francesca, still very much focused on her baby, hummed. “I always win.”

Liam shot GP a pained look. “Does she ever turn it off?”

GP snorted. “Nope.”

Max, smug as ever, leaned in slightly. “She’s always been this way, mate. You just had the misfortune of walking into it.”

Liam groaned. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Max grinned. “Not a chance.”

GP clapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “We’ll let this slide, since you’re new, but you might want to brush up on team dynamics before making a fool of yourself again.”

Francesca, finally tearing her attention away from her son, smirked at him. “You’ve learned an important lesson today, Liam.”

“Oh yeah?” he deadpanned. “What’s that?”

Francesca tilted her head, eyes sharp with amusement. “That I’m completely out of your league.”

Max let out a bark of laughter.

GP clapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder, offering zero comfort. “You’ll be fine, mate. Just... maybe do your homework next time.”

Liam shot him a deeply betrayed look. “You really let me dig my own grave, huh?”

GP shrugged. “I considered warning you. Then I didn’t.”

Liam groaned. “This is actual bullying.”

Francesca, clearly still amused, adjusted Joshua on her hip. “To be fair, you also called me Miss Howard.”

Liam winced.

Yeah. That had been a mistake.

“Right,” he muttered, shaking his head. “My bad, Dr. Howard.”

Max, absolutely no help at all, laughed.

Francesca pressed a kiss to Joshua’s temple before looking back at Liam, her expression turning mockingly sympathetic. “It’s okay, Liam. You’re not the first person to underestimate me.”

Liam groaned again.

“I wasn’t underestimating you,” he muttered. “I was just—” He gestured vaguely. “I don’t know! Trying to be nice!”

Max smirked. “By flirting with my wife?”

Liam turned bright red.

“Okay,” he said quickly, backpedaling so hard he could have reversed an F1 car. “I wasn’t flirting. I was just—” He waved a hand vaguely. “—being polite.”

GP snorted. “Sure, mate. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Liam exhaled deeply.

Francesca, clearly having had her fun, glanced at Max. “I have a meeting soon. Can you take Joshua?”

Max nodded, easily reaching for the baby. “Of course.”

The moment Joshua was in his arms, he lit up, giggling happily as Max bounced him slightly.

Liam watched, still trying to adjust to this absolute fever dream of a reality.

Max Verstappen—the most intense, hyper-focused, emotionally guarded driver on the grid—was a whole dad.

And, somehow, it actually suited him.

Liam shook his head, still slightly dazed. “I need to sit down.”

Max chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.”

Liam seriously doubted that.

Francesca, still smirking, patted his shoulder. “Don’t take it too hard, Liam. You never stood a chance.”

Liam groaned.

Max grinned. “Welcome to Red Bull.”

[jsmainblog]

not alone - spencer reid જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩

requests are always open <3

spencer reid x lonely!reader

summary: reader is a university student and hits up bars as a product of feeling isolated/blown off from their friends. but this time they meet a very peculiar person who they spend the night with

a/n: okay don't judge this i'm not the best at writing smut this could be really bad

warnings: 18+, oral (f receiving), p in the v, not overly graphic but its still there yk

❤️‍🔥smut

Here you were again stumbling into another bar. It now seemed like a weekly occurence, which seemed a little sad. I mean if you told someone you end up in a bar at least once a week they'd think you'd have some serious drinking issues, or you were depressed, or both. These vists to bars where mainly fuelled by your friends, they were either busy studying or with their boyfriends, sometimes even leaving days to go back home when college got a bit much. So as you seated yourself at the bar you had the usual expectation of how this night was going to go, a drink and people watching probably and sulking, yeah definitely sulking.

You see the usuals at the bar. A family man slumped over his drink morosely, groups of girlfriends getting drinks and celebrating, asshole men hitting on women, two co workers drinking and laughing. Watching these people made your heart ache a little. How you so desperately wished for a little human connection right now. Any connection would do you wouldn't care, a friend, a stranger, even idle talk with bartender. You even wouldn't mind a little bit of physical connection. Your eyes scan the bar until the landed on him. This guy who sat alone sipping on a drink thoughtfully, he looked meek almost. You could tell he was the kind of guy who'd get bossed around alot by women, especially if they give him a bit of attention. So with a hesitant push to stand up you make your way over to him.

"Hi. You mind if I sit?" you question. You see his face properly for the first time.He was young, shockingly younger than you thought with big round brown eyes and soft pink lips. Why, he's got to be around your age maybe 24? 25?.

"Uh no, no I don't mind, don't mind at all." he stutters. You can see the flustered look on his face obviously indicative that he dosen't get approached alot.

"So whats your name"

"Spencer Reid. I-uhm whats your's?"

"Y/n. So what college do you go to?" you inquire. Maybe this could be your chance to befriend someone to lean on when your friends unsurprisingly blow you off once again.

"College? No I don't go to college, I uhm work for the BAU full time at the FBI." he states. Well that shocked you a bit. This young, lanky looking guy who looked like he couldn't lift anything heavier than a chair was in the FBI? You have got to be joking.

"Don't you have to have a degree for that? And your like what? 24? 25? Degrees take a long time so I'm not understanding how that lines up. Unless your a genius or something."

"I have an iq of 187, an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute" he rambles, but he notices you shoot him a 'get to the point look'. "Yes I am a genius. And to answer your question yes you need a degree, sometimes even a PHD or a B.A."

You look at him baffled, you could've deducted he was smart from his nerd get up but this smart? Wow how were you supposed to keep up?

"Wait so how old are you?" you inquire

"24"

"Oh same" you say which brings a smile to his face. A very sweet handsome smile. Oh my god are you seriously rambling about some genius you met in a bar less then 10 minutes ago?

"So whats you degree in?" You ask

"Well i have multiple degrees. I have 3 PhD's in chemistry, math and engineering and I have two B.A's in psychology and sociology. So I'm assuming you're a uni student whats your degree in? "

"History."

"Oh yeah?" he says intrigued

"Yeah." you echo like a prayer. This Spencer guy was clearly flustering you a tad and massively impressing you.

So it was even more of a shock to the system when you are clumsily unlocking your apartment dorm with his arms wrapped around you from behind sucking on your neck. The two of you still tipsy crash your lips into one anothers as soon as the door closes. You didn't have a lot of time to think but you could tell where this was going. Now Spencer is a attractive genius you met at a bar 2 hours ago, how well is he going to go during sex? The horrifying thought of him being a virgin crosses your mind as well. You wouldn't usually take a chance on a guy like Spencer but you were lonely and now well a little needy. By the time you two are stumbling into your bedroom practically glued to each other you've accepted Spencer may not satisfy you at all. You were kind of okay with that. At least you were with someone and not sulking alone in your room which you usually do at this hour.

You sit back on the beg tugging on his tie signalling for him to come with you.

"Have you had sex before?" you breathe into his lips. He laughs softly. Why was he laughing? Was he nervous? Did he think your ridiculous for asking such a question?

"Yes I have. Why don't think I can satisfy you baby?" The term of endearment flusters you once again. 'I can't believe you are getting so nervous around a guy who probably plays crosswords in his free time' you say mentally scolding yourself.

You spend so much time talking to yourself in your head you don't even notice the lower half of you is naked and he's eating you out like a man starved eliciting little moans from you. Oh so he's good. You were a little annoyed about his awkwardness falsely led you to thinking he would suck. But you were so wrong. You can't even focus on the pleasure he's giving you because your just thinking about him. How.. No, no not perfect he is. Okay well maybe he's a little perfect. No hookup had ever treated you so gently before. His hand's cradled the backs of his thighs tracing little comforting patterns. You had to admit it gave you a little whiplash. Here he was being all gentle and soothing while his head was practically smooshed into the junction of your thighs. Your hand combs through his mousy hair tugging at the strands. No hookup had ever even bothered on foreplay ever, or was so generous. Your general conclusions about hookups is that 80% of the time it was more about them than you. But, it seems Spencer Reid was an anomaly. When you feel the familiar feeling of warmth and tingles wash over you he kisses your legs softly.

"Your being so good for me." he mumbles more to himself then you and you smile at his praise. He positions himself over you ridding himself of his clothes and the rest of yours between kisses.

"Seems like I got you all smiley huh sweetheart" he teases which earns him a nod and he chuckles leaning into give you a gentle kiss. The way he made you feel when he was inside you was like heaven on earth. Not only did he make you feel physically good, but he made you feel good about yourself. Confident, safe, perhaps even a little loved?

"Yeah that's it. Your being so good for me angel. There we go. Feels good huh? Better than you expected?" he murmurs gently. You roll your eyes at his little surge of confidence but nod a little as your hands tangle together.

"You're so beautiful" you blurt starry eyed before whining.

"Thank you, I should be saying that to you, you know but looks like you beat me to it." he laughs. Before you knew it that wave crashed over you again a little harder this time leading to you moaning his name a little louder than you would've liked. His movements sped up, he himself whining and groaning loudly before squeaking. His release leaking into the latex sheath. You were right about one thing he was a little submissive after all. He slowly guides himself out with a soft pop, discarding the now sticky latex and pulling his boxers on. You try to sit up but his hand guides you to gently lay back down.

"Stay there, let me go get something to clean you up angel. It's the least I can do for you." he whispers pressing a kiss to your cheek before wandering off to the bathroom. You lay there and sticky satisfied mess. Without Spencer you felt a little cold and empty, but he made you feel more at ease and safer then you'd ever felt before which astounded you. He comes back with a warm wet cloth wiping down your intimate areas and sweat all while murmuring sweet words of praise and compliments.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" you mumble quietly.

"Yeah if that's okay with you my apartments a little far from here. Just.. if I leave before you wake up I'm sorry but my work's pretty demanding. "

"No thats all good." you say as he pulls you to settle in his arms.

"Thank you" he whispers into your hair.

"For what?"

"For letting me see you like that." you smile at his sickenly sweet sentence. 'Is this guy real?' You think to yourself as you drifted into sleep enveloped by his arms.

The next morning your bed's empty but your not too torn up about it because Spencer warned you the night before. You sigh rubbing your face as you sit up and spot a note on your bedside table.

"Y/n I'm sorry that I had to leave I got called in on a case. I really enjoyed what we did last night and again I want to thank you. In fact, I liked it so much I wanna see you again. Maybe this time with a little more clothes on so we can get to know each other a bit better. Anyways heres my number and I hope we can get coffee or something along those lines its really your choice . But hopefully sometime soon :)" - Spencer

You smile at the note giddily. Maybe this was the start of something great?

[pricetagged]

lorica

Dark November nights aren't safe, especially not for women lingering outside pubs. A taxi should get you home, and it would have if you'd remembered to double-check the license plates.

Here is 2.2k drabbly nonsense since I feel bad about my month-long lack of posting. Ghost/Reader/Price (with implied 141/Reader at the end).

Content: Dark, MDNI, kidnapping, threat of violence, guns, body neutral, f-reader, unedited.

_____________________

White whisps danced and swirled in the air before you, your breath given substance in the chill of the night.

You shuffled from foot to foot, cold air and anxiety swirling in a discomforting soup that sunk down to your bones  A glance up and down the street confirmed that yes, your taxi still hadn't arrived. You unlocked your phone once more, foolish in the hope that staring at the screen would make the car appear sooner. The little black icon on the app mocked you. Your driver is 2.6km away!

A sudden cheer split the silence, flooding from the frosted windows of The White Hart. You and your friends had agreed to leave by 8 p.m., hoping to avoid the jeering and jostling of impassioned football fans. A quiet drink after work was one thing; you hadn't, however, planned on lingering to catch up with the Premier League. The noise of rowdy punters and drunk men spilled once more into the street behind you, making your heart race a little. They were just watching a match, just in their cups…

But standing solitary as you were in the dimly lit street it reminded you that you were alone.

A single streetlight buzzed and flickered its dim companionship.

You could see your breath puffing out in front of you, white on black as the night stretched on. Perhaps you should've agreed to the lift that your friends' offered, cursing your politeness. Don't want to inconvenience you! I'm headed in the opposite direction - let me just call a cab. Dark nights weren't often kind to lone women. Winter, too. It left you shivering, trussed up in fleecy fabrics as the wind bit at your numb nose and made your eyes stream. You looked like some soft, gentle thing huddled in a doorstep, hoping to pass the night safely. You panted a little, unease quickening your breath. The misty vapor furled upwards; you imagined it carrying off your hopes. Your desperation. Please, let this car arrive. Let me get home.

A nondescript black car slowed along the curbside, wheels slick and splashing in the stagnant water gathered by the gutters. You caught the tail end of the license plates, mud splattered yes, but you could see some numbers and letters shining through. Finally. You puffed out your relief, tucking your phone away as you reached for the door. Prayer answered, it seemed.

A wave of warm air kissed your cheeks as you slid in, dry and comfortable.

'Hi, how's it going? 2350, right?' You sent a half-glance at the driver, pulling your seatbelt on as you waited for confirmation.

The gears of the belt buckle clicked in the silence. Heavy, noticeable silence.

Turning back towards the front seat, your polite smile wavered slightly. The driver was a big man. Strange that you hadn’t noticed it before, but he was hulking in the seat, shoulders stretching beyond the limits of the side panels. You swallowed slightly as you noticed the headrest barely brushing the nape of his neck.

Two unwavering, dark eyes met yours in the rear-view mirror.

'Uh…' you faltered slightly, perched like bird in the backseat eager to take off, feathers ruffling and twitching. 'This is- you're the car I called? Confirmation number 2350?'

You could feel your face heating -from the chill outside, the AC inside, the mounting embarrassment - skin feeling itchy and tight. Still, you were reluctant to break his gaze. Your instincts sparked, flared to life illuminating only the thought to keep him in your sights. You felt altogether too cramped in the car, his presence spilling across the back seats.

'Yeah, 2350,' his voice rumbled over the hum of the engine. 'Tha's right.'

He made no move, didn't even blink as he stared you down. You could just about make out the arch of blond eyebrows, the craggy lines of a well-worn face but a black barrier mask halted any further consideration. You cracked first, glancing down to his thick, gloved hand resting on the gearstick. The entire dash was dark, no blue light or luminosity from his phone. No digital dials or screens anywhere.

'Aren't you gonna type it in the app? Confirm it from your end?' You hoped he didn’t notice the shake in your voice, unease plucking at your vocal chords weaving nerves into noise.

'Waitin' on yer rideshare, aren't I?'

'I didn't book a rideshare, this is just-' You cut yourself off as your numb, clumsy fingers groped for your phone. 'Let me check, I should've just booked a solo journey-'

'No need, 's'a busy night. Friday. Match on, lots of punters.' His voice was deep, tumbling like gravel from his chest. It was disjointing, actually, with his mouth covered and the lights off. His voice seemed to echo around, filling all the dark curves and corners of the car's interior. Coming from nowhere but this beast of a man with no mouth.

You shook off the thought like waterdrops from your hair. He was just a working man. Big, yes, gruff, but no need to tar him with the sticky, resinous pitch of your paranoia.

'Yer lucky to get a ride,' he continued. 'Car pool's better than standin' out in the street by y'rself. S'not safe.'

You relaxed a little into the seat, tension trickling away. Slightly. It lingered still at the base of your spine, on the back of your neck.

'Right,' you puffed out a breath as you slid your hand from your pocket. 'Do you know how long they'll be? It's just that I've been out since work this morning and I'm looking to get home sharpish.'

He snorted at that, loud and curt, "'e'll be out when he's out. Someone waitin' for ya to get home, or wot?'

'No,' you hesitated, awkwardness cutting you short, 'sorry. Just tired.'

He hummed at that, flicking his eyes around the silent street outside. Murky, orange light cut through the condensation of the pub windows, casting a faint haze on the shutters and bars of the nearby shops. All closed for the night. All empty.

'Wot you doin' out by y'rself anyway?'

Odd. He didn't seem the type for small talk.

'I wasn't out by myself,' you cringed at how pandering it seemed. How you felt you had to justify yourself. 'Was out for drinks with some colleagues and friends.'

He huffed at that, muttering something too low for you to hear. It made you prickle, for sure that it was at your expense. Maybe you should stick in your earphones, stop talking and just treat this like the transaction that it was. You drummed your fingers against the door panel, breath fogging up the window as you stared out aimlessly.

A few beats passed like that, quiet settling uncomfortably in the car like an itchy blanket. You could feel it, wanted to shift away or throw it off or something, but a glance outside at the damp, litter-strewn street kept you still. Better just to endure the discomfort if it got you home.

The snick of the locks disengaging made you jolt, drowsiness dispersing at the sudden shock of cool air from in front.

A man, almost as tall and broad as your driver, settled into the front passenger seat. His eyes, flinty under his stern brow, mapped the length and breadth of your bundled form. His lips twitched under his mustache, amusement or disbelief carved into the burgeoning smile.

'What's this, then? Picked up a stray?'

You bristled a little, scintilla of apprehension raising the hairs on your arms. They shared a look, something warm and familiar passing between them as the idling engine hummed back to life. They sat in front, black-clad and broad shoulder to broad shoulder nearly blocking your entire view of the dash.

'It's your rideshare, in't it?' the driver grunted as he pulled away from the curb.

'Booked a cab, did you sweetheart?' the stranger turned to you, strong face in profile. You could make out fragments - high nose bridge, dark hair, mutton chops obscuring most of his face. The darkness veiled the details, like staring at a painting through gauze. He was the image, the impression of a man, yes, but distant. Unsettling.

'Clearly,' tiredness and nerves made you sharp. Brittle. You sunk further into the seat, clutching your bag on your lap. As if it could act as a barrier. A shield.

A string of tension hummed, taut and quavering. You tried to ignore, watching streetlamps blur together outside, it but it whirred high and distracting. They noticed it too, you thought, shoulders squaring up as muscles tensed and flexed. The stranger huffed through his nose, proud and steady as an ox. You swore that you heard the driver chuckle under his breath, a low hehehe as he indicated right and turned off from the M60.

'Testy one, I see,' he hummed, disapproving. 'Gonna have to fix that attitude.'

The string snapped, you snapped, 'Look, Sir, I'm not trying to be rude, but I don't fancy a chat. I'm just trying to get home.'

You fumbled in your bag for your earphones, hoping to drown out any awkward silences or terse comments.

'Alright, that's enough of that. Simon, pull over.'

You looked up, half in alarm and half at the authoritative tone of his voice. The driver, Simon apparently, swerved into the hard shoulder with a 'roger that'.

The tattoo beat of your heart drowned out your thoughts, heavy thumps rushing past your ears and thrumming down to your fingertips. You scrambled for the doorhandle, scratching clumsily like a mouse.

'What are you doing? Is this some kind of Chuckle Brothers double act because if so, it's not funny,' your words fell like fragile little shards, hoping to cut but shattering in the air. Your pitch rose, 'You want the bag, my things? I'll report you, you shouldn't be fucking working this job.'

Your phone felt heavy in your hand, shaking fingers missing the keypad as you tried to type the password.

The stranger sighed heavily, patronising. Like you were inconveniencing him in some way. You licked you lips and glanced up, ready to run your mouth again as the app loaded.

A steely glint by the central console strangled the words in your throat.

'Didn't want to have to do this sweetheart,' the stranger's lips quirked up in a sad, half-smile. You scanned his face, seeing no note of hesitation. Just cool, steady eyes and that stupid, fake smile. 'Hand that over, nice and easy.'

Neurons fired, trying to make connections or plans. Trying to assess. Here you were, alone in a car with two strange men. You shouldn't hand your phone to them, you could barely feel your fingers anymore, never mind unfurl them from the edges of the case. If you handed over your phone - your lifeline- then what?

If you didn't hand it over, you had the answer to that question from the barrel of the gun pointed your way.

You stared at it, dull silver in the dark. Like a cynosure, it pulled your gaze towards it. A sick facsimile of the North Star, leading you away from safety and further into the den of the wolves ahead.

Your animal instincts screamed, struggled, but lost as you passed your phone into his large, calloused grasp.

'Good girl,' he smiled fully then, round cheeks and bright eyes masking the coldness beneath. 'Don't get fussy now - Simon, the locks - just sit tight and you'll be home in no time.'

You tugged futilely at the handle, useless now that Simon had engaged the child-safety lock.

'I don't live down this way, I- this is not the right way,' you licked your lips again, mouth dry and bitter with the taste of rising bile. You could see, now, that you wouldn't be going home that night. Your next words tasted acrid, tinged with defeat.  'Why are you doing this?'

'Thought ya wanted to come wiv us,' Simon's gravelly voice cut in, amusement warming the pitch into something mocking. 'Why else jump into a strange car?'

'You said you were my taxi, you confirmed-'

'Did I?' you saw his eyebrow quirk, dead predator eyes meeting yours once more through the rear-view mirror. 'Not very good at lookin' after y'rself, are ya?'

Your quick little breaths fogged up the window beside you. It was hard to see, hard to think. But clearly, not thinking had brought you this far. You didn’t think to accept your friends' offer, didn’t think to properly check the license plates, didn't think open the app and check the journey status.

There must have been something of surrender in the tremble of your lips. In the flickering of your wide, glossy eyes. It scented the air, whetting the appetite of the beasts in front of you, swirling around their chops.

'S'alright, love. We'll get ya home. Get ya taken care of.'

Lacrima painted your lash line, salty and hot as it brimmed over and down your cheeks.

You heard a rustle, felt a rough thumb brushing at your tears. The stranger had reached back, large hand nudging your face back up to look at him.

'No more tears, now, c'mon,' he dug his into the corner of your mouth, tugging your lips into a coy, marionette simper. 'Smile, sweetheart. The rest of the boys are dying to meet you.'

________________________________

Bit rushed, but hey 🤷‍♀️. This has probs been done before but here's my spin. Apologies for the lack of fics lately! Feel like I'm getting my groove back so should have some actual content out soon.

[bucksboobs]

On their way to a fire, Buck opens his big mouth and says something very stupid. Not an unusual occurrence but this one is unique: “Hey, Hen? Can I ask you a gay people question?”

Hen side-eyes him. “Are you sure now’s the best time?” The engine shakes on its suspension.

Buck blusters forward. “So Tommy and I have been dating a month and a half now.” The mention of Tommy grabs both Chim and Eddie’s attention.

“Wait, really?” Chim asks, Hen’s not sure if he thought it was shorter or longer than that. His memory of time seems to be the worst hit by the encephalitis.

“2 months next Thursday.” Eddie says.

“Y-yeah… that’s right.” Buck raises his eyebrows at Eddie. The rest all stare, Hen included. Those two have always been locked at the hip but knowing each other’s anniversaries seems excessive. Buck seems to agree.

“How do you know that?” She asks.

“Their first date was the same day I asked Marisol to move in with me.”

“When did Marisol move in with you?” Hen and Chimney ask in unison. Last she heard about Marisol she had only just met Chris, moving in seemed a long way off for them. Since when was she living with him?

“She didn’t” Bobby answers, giving his sternest glare to the rear view mirror. Hen knows this means she’s in charge of keeping these fools in check so he can focus on driving.

“Yeah we decided against that. Anyway Buck you were talking about Tommy?” Hen stifles a laugh. There was a story there she was going to have to wring out of Bobby because Eddie’s deflection abilities are legendary.

“Yeah so- um- ho-how long before we can uh…”Hen cocks her head. What exactly is Buck after with Tommy right now, they’re not nearly to the point of I love yous and she doesn’t think Buck would be this nervous about dating advice. “I mean how long did you and Karen wait until you, uh” Oh.

“Had sex?” Hen asks bluntly.

“Whoa, you and Tommy haven’t had sex yet?” Chimney asks, astonished.

“Buck when’s the last time you waited this long with anyone?” Eddie asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Never? Maybe high school?” That tracks.

“Or Abby.” Chim offers. Buck winces at that. She knows that woman did him dirty, looks like the scar still aches.

“Six minutes to ETA.” Comes from the drivers seat. “5 and a half…” Bobby takes a sharp turn that shakes the whole truck. “5 minutes.”

“So how do I ask him to fuck me.”

A chorus of “BUCK!” rings through the truck. Eddie looks petrified at the idea of his best friends having sex with each other, Chim looks exhausted with his brother-in-law of barely a month and look, Hen would give the world to see this kid happy but sometimes he’s just too stupid for his own good.

“Buck. I think you need to remember Tommy doesn’t have a lot of experience in this area either.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Did you forget he’s only been out as long as you’ve been at the 118?” Hen learned that about Tommy from Buck’s gushing the day after the wedding. She’d also talked to him in a fluorescent lit waiting room after the most gorgeous hospital ceremony she’s ever been a part of, so she’s aware that he’s not used to being with men that want more than just sex from him. “He might think you’re just as nervous as he is.”

“I didn’t know he got nervous.”

Chim huffs at that. “Next time you see him ask him to tell you a story about a rooster.” That makes Hen smile.

“He probably won’t believe you’re ready until you can talk to him about it.”

“I don’t— I-it usually just kind of happens. You get a look, there’s a nod, they look at your lips and lean in…”

“Yeah but that was women who knew what they wanted and what you wanted. Tommy won’t know unless you tell him what you’re ready for.”

“So to get him to fuck me I have to tell him to fuck me?”

“Jesus, Buck. Yes.” Hen laughs. They are, thankfully, finally pulling to site so she doesn’t have to enumerate exactly how he needs to ask. If she did she’d have to explain birds and bees that she is not the best person to explain.

“Come on, kids, let’s save some lives.” Bobby calls as he pulls the parking break.

The fire looks pretty bad, two story house, they’ll have to split up by floor. As they gear up Buck says, privately, off-mic. “Thanks Hen, you’re a good Gay Yoda”

“Do him or do not, there is no try.”

[thepersonnamedsam]

hello! i was hoping I could request something between gen z reader x the grid where she gets an anxiety attack or gets really anxious during press and how they would react or try to help her, could be due to something about the race or personal, love uuu<3

you’re gonna go far

pairing: the genz!driver x '23!grid

summary: social anxiety and social stuff don’t mix very well

word count: 2.3k

warnings: anxiety attack, angst, sexist comments

note: hiya!! yk i love your requests!! thank u <3

i have social anxiety myself, it’s written from my perspective - anxiety is experienced very different, pls remember that! and pls respect anyone who is experiencing anxiety or any mental disorder that is!

masterlist / taglist

We ain’t angry at you, love, you’re the greatest thing we‘ve lost.

The song blasted through her ears, tears started forming in her eyes. She missed home, so, so much. She felt guilty to leave all her friends and family at home to pursue her dreams. And this song, written by the brilliant Noah Kahan, just always made her cry and think about her hometown.

Well, maybe not always, mostly the days her anxiety sparks up - and today was one of those days. Usually media didn’t stress her out, but today was different. Her mood shifted and hyper sensitive, overstimulated and overwhelmed. And she usually had someone she trusted by her side at media, but not today. Today was just shit.

Paired with Lance, Kevin, Sergio and Niko, she just wished the day would be over. She was just glad that Daniel, Max, Oscar and Lewis would be after her, they would maybe wait for them to finish, so she could see them.

She was trying to help her calm down. Thinking about good possibilities and not bad ones. Not about how she would sit stiff and uncomfortable between Lance and Sergio. Or how she and Niko never really got along. Or how she couldn’t seek refuge in a known face. Or how she had to answer all the questions by herself and not have Max there to defend her and be her bodyguard. 

And she was doing it again.

What was she gonna do? Breath, just breath - that’s what she told herself. She was in desperate need for a break. She knew what she was getting herself into, but it was still so very much. She was glad that Hungary was the second last race before the summer pause. She would go home, maybe vacation a bit, but definitely head home and see her friends and family.

Her feet dragged her through the media pit against her will. She didn’t want to go there, she just wanted to curl up in her bed with a good book and some music. Her headphones still present on her head, at least she had her music.

She was so focused on the words of You’re gonna go far that she didn’t see Lance in her peripheral vision. He patted her on her back and she flinched as he passed her. He gave her a funny look as she just gave him a shy smile.

She sighed, she didn’t know how she could face this day. She wished she had Lewis or Max or Danny by her side, someone to lean on, someone who would protect her and help her out. But she was all alone in this world right now. That’s what she thought at least.

Sat next to her was Kevin and Sergio. Her leg was bouncing, her fingers couldn’t stop picking at her nails. Her breathing was fast. She knew that things would turn out bad pretty fast. She just knew it.

„So, the next question is for y/n. Seeing as you’re the only woman on the grid, do you feel intimidated by all of the men or do you actually like the challenge?“

Her mind raced. What? She wished for Max who would give a sassy comeback or for Lewis to out the comment as borderline sexist. Or just anyone to stand up for her at that moment, but no one did.

„Uh, thank you for your question. Uhm, I am not the only woman on the grid. There are lots of women working behind the scenes - mechanics, engineers, catering, strategists, everything. So, to answer your question, no, I don’t feel intimidated, because I know that I come from a powerful gender.“

Her answer was clip and clear, not even her voice was shaking, which she half expected to. But the interviewer grew visibly irritated.

„Can you go into it a bit more? Or could you please comment on the statement Christian Horner did? Here, I’ll refresh your mind: F1 is bringing in a young generation. It’s bringing in a lot of young girls because of all these great-looking young drivers.“

What had that to do with his question beforehand? Horner made that statement a longer time ago?

„Uhm yes, obviously we all know Christian by now, don’t we?“, she nervously laughed. „But uhm, he is obviously still wrong, like I originally commented when he first made that statement“ Her eyes were searching for something or someone familiar, but she couldn’t. Her vision occupied by interviewers and flashing cameras.

Her breath started to get faster, She tried to breath through her nose, not make it too obvious that she was having a moment. This would make headlines. Female driver gets anxiety attack whilst commenting on sexist statements.

Why wasn’t Lewis there? He knew what to do. He had caught her like this before - breathing rapid, fists clenched and fingers white. Eyes not focusing on anything particular and her chest heaving up and down from all her heavy breathing.

It was after she had found out that people were speculating about her - specifically that she had to sleep with her or any team principal to get her seat in F1. Her head was leaned against the wall, her knees pulled to her chest and her body was rocking back and forth.

„y/n, y/n, listen, look at me. Listen to me, can you please look at me, love?“, he pleaded. And when she finally did, Lewis let out a breath of relief. „Okay, look at me, darling, and follow my breathing, yes? It’s easy, you can do it, I believe in you.“

He grabbed her hands and put them to his own chest, so she could feel his breathing. Feel his calm heartbeat, even though he felt anything opposite calm. He looked her deep into her eyes and tried to reassure that everything was going to be alright.

„You’re gonna go far, y/n, listen to me, I know it, you’re gonna make it far.“

Her breathing had normalised and the tears stuck in her eyes, finally flowed down her cheeks. The soon turned into full on sobs and the older driver hugged the younger one. Embracing her and reassuring her, that none of the drivers would have believed the tabloids - they’ve seen her driving and know very well why she got offered her seat in F1.

She had thanked him about a thousand times and made him promise not to ever tell anyone. But if somebody else knew, maybe they could’ve helped her in this situation.

But luckily for y/n, this was all broadcast live, well, maybe not for her per se, because she knew about too many people were watching her lose herself on live television and her PR manager couldn’t just pull some magic strings to not have this air, but what she didn’t know was, that Seb was watching - her specifically.

And he did the only reasonable thing he could do, he called Lewis.

„Hey dude, what’s up? Haven’t heard from you in a long time. How’s retirement treating you?“ Lewis had a lot of questions for the German. The later laughed a bit, but turned serious pretty quickly. „Listen, I’m watching the pre-race interviews right now-“ Lewis interrupted him: „Yeah? I’m on next, you should definitely wait and see me on TV then.“

„Yeah that’s great Lew, but y/n is on right now. I think- no I’m pretty sure she’s having an anxiety attack on live television.“

Lewis was silent for a moment. „She is having what?“ - „An anxiety attack, you know what that is? It’s, uhm, when you get too overwhelmed and your psyche tells you that you’re experiencing immense fear at the moment and“, Lewis was tuning him out.

She was having an anxiety attack? Right now? During the pre-race interview? He had to help her.

„I’m on my way, thanks Seb“, and he hung up. He had to get there as fast as he could. Sprinting through the entire paddock to the media pin. On the way he almost crashed into Max, who was also making his way to the pin, Daniel by his side. The only looked at Lewis weird but soon we’re running with him, as he shouted: „It’s y/n!“

They arrived but no one wanted to let them in: „It’s not your turn yet, they’re still going. You have to wait until it’s your turn, you’ll be on in 10.“

„Listen, y/n, if you’re reacting this way to my question, you’re clearly not made for this sport, maybe you should go into something more ladylike, like horseback riding or tennis, at least you’d look pretty there.“

„And you’re clearly not made to interviews, asshole!“

All of them heard, the viewers heard, the drivers heard, the interviewers heard, but y/n was the only one who didn’t hear it.

Maybe you should go into something more ladylike, like horseback riding or tennis, at least you’d look pretty there. That was all she could hear. At least you’d look pretty there.

The other drives next to y/n didn’t know what to do. Their colleague was definitely having a though time, but they didn’t know how to help, they opted to just tilt their heads towards the floor and look just as uncomfortable as everyone in the room did - but no one stood up for her, expect Max.

„Maybe you should just fucking leave this pit before I will bash your disgusting face. Maybe you should scramble and flee. Maybe you should eat your on dick as you seem to like to put tiny and degrading things in your mouth. Maybe-“, Daniel stopped him, Max has said enough and made his point.

Lewis was already making his way up to her. Scooping her up and carrying her out of the pit.

At least you’d look pretty.

The sentence was going through her head like a loop, like a vinyl that’s broken and repeats all the worst parts. She felt like a broken record - cracked and well, broken.

„She‘s hyperventilating“, Danial pointed out. „Yeah no shit, sherlock.“ - „Max, let’s just focus on her right now, okay?“, the seven time world champion told the two time world champion. „Who’s garage is the nearest?“, Lewis asked into the round. „The Ferrari one is the first one on the grid“, Daniel said. „Let’s go then.“

Daniel led the way, fetching Lando on the way, she’d appreciate the support from the youngster. Even though he complained a lot to Danny.

„Don’t look, don’t look, we’re just passing through“, Daniel said as he tried to shield her and Lewis from all the cameras in the Ferrari garage. „What are you guys doing here?“, Carlos questioned, but as soon as he saw the crying mess in Lewis‘ arms he helped Daniel shield y/n. Carlos led them to Charles‘ side of the garage, as he had his closed off for anyone from the outside.

„What’s going on?“, a confused Charles asked the group now standing in his garage. „Charles, we need to go somewhere quiet, is that possible?“, Lewis asked the Ferrari driver. He nodded and led them to his drivers room, even though it was pretty tiny and probably wouldn’t fit all of them in it.

They set y/n on his sofa and Lewis was hovering in front of her. Lando sat on her right side, while Max was on her left. He took her hand in his, squeezing it, so she knew that he was there. „Hey y/n look at me. We’re in Charles‘ drivers room, in the Ferrari garage. Away from the media pit, okay? You’re safe with us now“, Lewis told her. „Breath with us.“

„In and out, just like that, darling, follow Lewis‘ breathing“, Daniel complimented y/n. „You’re doing great, shatje. So, so great. We’re all so proud of you.“

„You can let it all out, we won’t judge you“, Charles told her and just as he did, the dam broke. Her tears fell down onto her knees, she sobbed uncontrollably. She leaned her head on Landos shoulder and he pulled her close into his side. „You’re doing so well, love.“ - „Just keep breathing, don’t forget to breath“, Carlos told her. He was standing in the doorway with Charles, acting as bodyguards.

Danny walked around the room, trying to find something for y/n to drink out of. „Hey Charles, do you have some water or a bottle?“ The driver clad in red reacted fast and brought the Australian a tall glass of water. He brought y/n the glass and she had to stop crying to drink. Afterwards she got the hiccups. „There, there love, everything’s okay“, Lewis took her glass and patted her knee. „Remember what I told you? You’re gonna go far, okay? Don’t let that prick tell you otherwise.“

„At least you’d look pretty there.“

„Huh?“, the room asked, as she mumbled the sentence.

„At least you’d look pretty there. That’s what he said“, she looked up from her seat, to the room full of supporting people. „At least you’d look pretty.“

Max was so angry again, he could’ve killed that man, if it wasn’t for Daniel holding him back. „I am going to kill that man“, Max growled. y/n giggled: „Maxie, don’t, he doesn’t deserve death. He deserves to live a long, pitiful life.“

„We’re glad you’re laughing again, y/n“, Charles said. „Yes, very much so.“ Everyone agreed with Charles. „I love you guys, but how’d you even know that I was having a tough time?“, y/n asked confused. Lewis had to laugh: „Seb called me. Said he saw you on the TV all riled up and ready to cry and that I should already be on my way to help you, but I talked over him the whole time“ He scratched his neck and y/n laughed a loud belly laugh. „That’s so typical!“

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret, @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @whatthefuckerr , @avengersheart , @thatsadsmallchild , @peachiicherries , @idkiwantchocolatee

[its-luna-noel]

biting | gojo x reader

gojo constantly drawing attention finally gets on your nerves

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, smut, biting, love bites & hickeys, possessive reader

word count: 1.0k

part 11/31 prev. chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hope you enjoy!

You know your boyfriend is hot, but was it too much to ask for people not to flirt with him, just for your birthday?

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Satoru’s car, deathly silent. The city passes by outside, and you stare out the window and watch, the interior of the car frigid with the cold shoulder you’re giving him.

Once again, he tentatively tries to speak, “Baby…”

You interrupt him. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

“Can you at least tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nuh uh.”

He sighs, long fingers flexing around the steering wheel, but he doesn’t argue. He knows you like to take your time to cool down, to simmer before starting a fight. He knows you just need a few minutes to think through what you wanna say.

But that doesn’t make it any less frustrating to drive you home.

He tried to make your day special. He made a reservation at a fancy restaurant you wanted to try, took you to buy a brand new dress, treated you like the queen you are, and still, it somehow ended like this.

The rest of the drive is quiet, until he kills the engine in the garage. You don’t even let him open your door like he usually does; you just get out and walk inside, and you hear him sigh behind you as you leave him behind.

You do feel a little bad. You know you’re being unfair. But, for now, you’re too upset to change it.

You walk to the living room and plop down on one end of the couch, eyes still averted as Satoru follows you, coming to sit on the other end. He gives you space and silence to process your own emotions, and even though you can tell he’s concerned, frustrated, and disappointed with how tonight went, he doesn’t complain even once.

That just makes you feel worse.

Finally, when your bruised ego has healed a little, you huff and crawl forward, resting your cheek on his shoulder. Still not looking up at him.

He gives you a second to settle in. Then he, very gently, takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turns your head to face him. His bright eyes are soft. “Talk to me, baby.”

You sigh and look down. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if it makes you this upset. Just tell me what’s wrong. Let me help.”

“It is stupid,” you insist.

He just frowns at you.

You sigh again, and wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling close. You grumble softly, “I hate seeing all those girls flirting with you.”

“What?”

You growl quietly; you know he notices it, too. Men, women, and everyone in between want him. Stare at him like he’s already theirs. Stare at you like you’re not worthy of him. You kiss his neck, starting all the way up by his ear and trailing your lips lower and lower. “They watch you. They want you. It pisses me off.”

“Baby, you know I–”

You cut him off. “Yeah, I know. You only want me. That doesn’t mean I like watching them.”

He opens his mouth to continue speaking, but before he can, your lips part, and your teeth sink brutally into his throat, right over his pulse point. He gasps in surprise at the sensation, his hands moving back to grip your ass, squeezing and pulling you close as your teeth dig into his flesh, leaving deep imprints there.

“I hate seeing it,” you admit, trying not to sound vulnerable as you brush your tongue over the red marks left by your teeth. “It makes me so mad. Knowing they want to take you from me.”

“Baby, I–”

You cut him off again with another bite, this one a little lower down, where his neck meets his shoulder. His voice stutters, and he lets out a soft moan, his head tilting back against the couch.

This time, as you bite, you hollow your cheeks and suck harshly on the skin, and Satoru gasps again, his hips inadvertently bucking up at the painful, pleasurable sensation. You leave a deep red mark, which will surely be a blotchy purple bruise in the morning. Your tongue flicks over the mark, soothing the pain with the warmth of your mouth.

“I want you to be all mine,” you growl against his throat.

“I am all yours, sweet girl.” His voice is rough with arousal, though he’s trying to hide it as he comforts you. “Only yours.”

“Then let me show them. Let me mark you up.”

And so he does. He sits patiently as you bite and suck dark hickeys into his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Your possession of him is made clear with every bruise you leave, and all he does is hold your hips, letting you continue until you’re content. Until your anger and frustration finally burn away, leaving nothing but love and care for him.

Finally, you lean into him again, hugging him tightly.

He hugs you back, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Better?” he asks, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

You nod. Your voice is quiet when you speak. “Sorry for being a brat.”

He chuckles a little, one hand gently rubbing your back in small circles. “It’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

“You didn’t ruin it, baby.” He pulls away to look at you, gently cupping your cheek. “We’re okay, alright? Everything’s fine.”

“Even though I got all mad?”

He nods. “Even then.” He grins a little, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, watching you get all possessive is kind of hot.”

You huff a laugh and gently push his shoulder, fighting a smile. Trailing your eyes over all the marks you left.

Your marks.

Finally, he looks like he belongs to you.

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3 | next

[bybobbysbeard]

Fine Gold

Day 11 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: double date read on ao3 read other days here

Karen gestures expansively, her horribly bright cocktail sloshing dangerously. “So I said, the rotational energy is going to overcome the momentum and you’re not going to land where you’re expecting to. And he laughed at me. Like, what, I developed the thrusters so I don’t understand how a gyroscopic inertial works? It was my trajectory he was screwing up!” She smacks the table with her free hand. The little skewer of pineapple in her drink wobbles around the glass. “It was infuriating!” 

Tommy laughs, tipping his head back to hit the padded booth.

“Tommy! Stop laughing at me! I need another mechanically-inclined mind at this table. Buck’s too ADHD to hold a scientific conversation when he’s drinking and I can literally see my wife’s eyes glazing over.” She flaps a hand at Hen, slouched against her and watching the dancefloor.

Hen waves her nearly empty beer glass in Karen’s face. “Hey now, I am plenty scientific. Just not about aerospace engineering.”

“Yeah, cut your wife some slack Karen, it’s not like she’s a doctor or anything.”

Hen gasps, mock offended. “Et tu, Brute? The betrayal. And after I invited you and Buck out to our favorite bar.” She grabs for the pineapple skewer, dodging Karen’s block and biting off a chunk spitefully. She takes a sip of her beer and makes a face.

He laughs again. “Bet that tasted great.”

“Oh shut-up Kinard. I thought spending more time with Buck was supposed to make you less of an asshole. Where’s your better-half gone anyways?”

Tommy leans forward, trying to see the bar. “I’m not sure, I thought he was getting another pitcher. I can’t see him from here.” He’s just about to get to his feet when Karen pipes up.

“Uh oh.”

“Uh oh? What’s ‘uh oh’?”

Hen follows Karen’s gaze and sighs, heartfelt. “Your boy’s dazzling the regulars again.”

“For the love of God… excuse me.” He clambers to his feet, draining the last of his beer, and turning towards the bar. Hen’s right. Evan’s holding court, animatedly describing something with one hand while he holds the requested pitcher of beer in the other. At least four people of various genders are pressed close around him, a snapshot of Sweetwaters’ eclectic clientele.

This is the third time this has happened tonight. Evan is a natural flirt, moreso when he’s not even trying. Add in the fact that he’s glowing with happiness, and a little bit drunk, and he’s basically irresistible. Like a 6’2” puppy. Tommy can’t really blame them for getting sucked into Evan’s orbit. Hell, it happens to him everyday. It doesn't hurt that his boyfriend looks phenomenal, lit by the glow of hundreds of string lights hanging above the bar. Of course, Evan always looks good, even half-asleep and covered in drool, or after a 48 and covered in soot, but there’s something special tonight. 

His pastel-blue button-up shows off his tanned arms and his dark slacks fit his incredible legs, incredibly well. The white sneakers were a choice, but Tommy can admit they work with the look. Two pitchers of beer have left a light flush on his cheeks, and his curls have passed artfully tousled to nearly reach sex-hair levels of chaos. His lips are pink, pink, pink, spread around a wide grin and he’s making devastating eye contact with his audience. He makes some motion, probably reenacting a rescue, and throws his arm up above his head. Even from here, Tommy can see his cuffed sleeve straining at the seam. 

One of the women actually swoons back half a step. Okay, this is getting ridiculous.  

There’s a gold chain hanging loosely around Evan’s neck. It rests just below the hollow of his throat. The lights from the bar catch it and throw little caustics up against the smooth skin of his jaw. A heavily tattooed man at the bar, tall and lean with glossy waves of blond hair, leans forward. He rests a proprietary hand on Evan’s forearm and smiles charmingly. Evan looks startled, but still happy, glancing down at the hand on his arm. 

Possessiveness churns in Tommy’s stomach.

Three hours ago Evan had sat, completely naked and still damp from the shower, on the foot of their bed. He had sighed and pouted, and complained they were going to be late, but Tommy had been adamant. He knew the bar they were going to, and he was self-aware enough to know how tonight was probably going to go for him.

He hadn’t been joking all those months ago when he told Evan he could get jealous too. 

So, sue him. He wanted a visible claim on Evan. Not a hickey, though he was sure he was going to be leaving those on the delicate skin of Evan’s neck before the night was over. But something subtler. Something he could look at when he saw other men fawning over his boyfriend, trying to catch Evan’s attention, wanting him. Something to remind himself the only one Evan wanted was Tommy. 

Evan had perked up when he opened the slim, blue velvet box, and had audibly gasped when he dangled the fine gold chain in front of him. He had ducked his head when Tommy stepped close, carefully draping it around his neck and fastening it, before spinning the clasp to the back. He had hummed, watching as Evan’s eyes drifted closed as his fingers danced over the chain. One hand had gone to Evan’s jaw, tipping his head up and to the side so Tommy could see the gold against his skin. He had traced the cool metal with his fingers, over and over again until it was warm from their shared body heat and Evan was squirming and straining against him. Then, he patted his boyfriend on the cheek, and told him to get dressed or they really would be late. 

Evan had swore at him, and threw a pair of balled up socks at his head.

Tommy was paying for his earlier teasing now. He’s not sure how much is Evan getting his revenge, and how much is just his naturally adorable self. His boyfriend can sometimes come across as guileless about social cues, but he’s got a bratty streak a mile wide. Either way, Tommy is suffering. Hen had taken one look at his face the first time Evan had gotten ‘distracted’ by someone at the bar, and nearly laughed herself sick. 

Tommy walks up as the tattooed guy sways even more into Evan’s space, letting go of his arm to get a phone out. Evan is nodding at something he’s saying, but his eyes trip over to Tommy when he gets close enough. There’s a light there, catching in his blue eyes; some sparkling mischief that lets Tommy know that this encounter, at least, is Evan playing with him. The stranger’s eyes also move over to him, and he leans back on his stool, clutching his phone and straightening up. He gives Tommy a slow once over. Brown eyes dart between the two of them.

Tommy lays a hand on the small of Evan’s back, leaning in to press a quick kiss to the rounded muscle of his shoulder. “Was wondering where you got to with the beer, baby.”

“Oh sorry, I was just talking tattoos with Jordan here.” Evan turns his head towards Tommy, close enough to kiss but not reaching out. His eyes drift down to his lips.

“Is that so?” He murmurs into the space between them. His eyes flick back up to ‘Jordan’ and he lets his expression go flat.

Jordan straightens even further. He looks kind of bizarre, perched on a bar stool with his back ramrod straight. When he speaks, his voice is loud, blusterous. “Yeah man, Buck’s got some nice ink.” And then, more confrontational, “What about you?”

Tommy turns to face him, lips curling up into a smirk. “No tattoos here. I’m more into piercings.”

He can hear Evan gulp beside him. 

Jordan’s nostrils flare. Tommy smirks wider, letting his teeth show. Evan squeaks out some excuse, turning away from the bar and hugging the pitcher of beer to his chest. He flutters his free hand over Tommy’s back as he herds him back towards the table. Over his shoulder he throws a distracted, “Nice to meet you.”

Tommy chuckles as Evan harries him, Hen and Karen looking up as they get close. Evan’s blushing, making his blue eyes stand out even more. He thumps the pitcher down, sitting down and scooching into the back of the semi-circle bench seat, looking up fervently at Tommy. He sits down too, laying a hand heavily on Evan’s thigh. Hen’s shaking her head as she pours herself another beer, and Karen slurps noisily at her straw.

“I expect this kind of behaviour from you, Buck, but Tommy, if you get us kicked out I will never forgive you.”

“No harm done, Evan was just making friends.” He slides his hand higher on Evan’s thigh just to see him freeze and choke on a breath, before trying to hide it behind his empty beer glass. Hen rolls her eyes and takes a long drink of her beer. 

Karen giggles at them, fishing the last ice cube out of her glass and crunching it, with obvious satisfaction. The music changes, something poppy and upbeat, and a cheer goes up from the dancefloor. “Ooh!” She grabs Hen’s hand. “Let’s dance! You guys coming?” She looks at Buck for an answer. 

“I–I’m okay right now.” He looks to Tommy, who shakes his head, lifting his palm off of Evan’s thigh and reaching for the pitcher. “We can watch your stuff though.”

She pins him with a knowing look and his blush darkens. Hen and Karen shuffle out of their side of the booth and step away, melting into the swarming crowd. Tommy pours them both fresh beers and takes a long sip. The song swells. The lights change too, dimming around the tables and strobing pink and purple over the dancefloor. Tommy slips a hand around Evan’s waist and pulls him close. He brushes a kiss over a smooth cheek and Evan melts against him.

“Were you trying to make me jealous, sweetheart?” He speaks right into Evan’s ear, staying close to be heard over the music.

Evan nods, breathlessly, and turns until his cheek brushes Tommy’s and he can feel hot breath on his ear. “Yeah, I m–mean, yes. Yes, I was.”

Tommy hums curiously. “How’d that work out for you?”

Evan groans. “God, you’re so hot. When you’re jealous, when you’re being a bitch, when you’re laughing at me.” He swallows, and a hand drifts to Tommy’s chest, fiddling with the buttons of his black shirt. “Can we get out of here?”

Tommy doesn’t answer, instead pressing a kiss to the side of Evan’s neck. The hand on his chest wanders higher, warm fingers reaching his collar and brushing across bare skin. He bites down on a tendon, lightly, and Evan makes a sweet little noise. Tommy worries at it with his teeth until Evan squirms, his other hand sliding up to Tommy's neck. He hauls his boyfriend closer by the arm around his waist, his other hand landing on the sticky table top. Shaky fingers drift over the bolt of his jaw and find an earlobe, tracing over the thick silver hoops he's wearing. 

The hand on his chest turns purposeful. Evan unerringly finds his nipple through the two shirts he’s got on, searching for one of the little barbells he recently started wearing again. It’s not surprising behavior; Evan’s obsessed with his piercings. He tugs on the metal bar, twists it carefully. Heat pools in Tommy’s belly. 

He licks the abused skin under his mouth, pressing another light kiss to the blooming bruise before backing off. Evan’s hands on his body keep him close, but it's far enough. His boyfriend looks debauched. His eyes are blown black, a thin ring of blue around big, fat pupils. His mouth is red and open, an indent in his lower lip from where he was biting to keep quiet. 

Tommy grabs his glass and takes a deep drink. He sets it down with a sound that he can’t hear over the pounding music and Evan’s heavy breaths. His hand is damp with condensation. He loops a finger through the fine gold chain around Evan’s neck and gives it a gentle tug. He bites his lip again, half muffling the little moan that tries to escape. Blue eyes are fixed on Tommy. 

“Let me finish my beer, and then we’ll say goodbye.”

[princesscolumbia]

Star Trek Captains, A Review and Categorization

Star Trek is a show about a Neo-military organization that has rank structures, ships, and fights wars, so naturally there's plenty of captains to talk about, but for this post I'll be highlighting specifically the main cast captains, in something resembling chronological order. (But, I mean, this is Star Trek, so even that's kinda up in the air)

Captain Archer

That Guy who had to hand crank the warp engine up-hill both ways in the blinding ion storm. We don't need no stinkin' Prime Directive! Remember The Alamo Pearl Harbor 9/11 Florida! But...uh, maybe don't be dicks about it, not everyone who looks like the ones responsible for that thing we're never going to forget actually wants us dead. Got transformed into an alien, got possessed by another alien, slept with a couple more. Never got pregnant, though (that was his chief engineer)

Scorecard

Ships commanded: 1

Wars started: 0

Wars ended: 3

Times on screen naked: 1

Nazi facilities destroyed: 1

Category: Grampa

Captain Pike

Midlife crisis? What midlife crisis? Everything's fiiiiine. Now eat something, it'll make you feel better. I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed. Number One, don't tell me I can't adopt more kids, I don't care that they're from the future they're mine now. Besides, we've already got a whole ship-full, what's two more?

Scorecard

Ships commanded: 2

Violations of the Temporal Prime Directive: -3 (yes, it's an irrational number, we're talking time travel, people!)

Musical Numbers Participated While On Duty: 3

Hair: Really Great

Category: Dad (or DILF if you swing that way)

Captain Georgiou

You will be captain when you can snatch the stone from my hand.

Scorecard

Ships commanded: 1

Protege's who required a redemption arc: 1

Awesomeness: Transcendent

Category: Gone too soon, also, MILF who can kick your ass

(Edit: Courtesy of @cheer-me-up-scotty for pointing out an oversite on my part)

Captain Burnham

Cosplays as a Vulcan 'cause she's jealous of her adoptive brother. Accurately called an audience-stand-in-self-insert-mary-sue (shut up, Star Trek fandom invented the Mary Sue, it was a term coined by women fans, so shut up!), but by season 2 she actually gets interesting.

Scorecard

Mommy Issues: Has a subscription

Moms: 4

PTSD inducing life events: Like, all of them

Ships commanded: 3

Mutinies led failed: 1

Category: That One Cousin who married surprisingly well and made something of herself in spite of all expectations

Captain Kirk

Golden retriever energy, would be the Useless Bisexual Himbo if he didn't have so much game. Probably smarter than he lets on. Polyamory King and certified Alien Fucker. Boyfriend is a half-space-elf, main sometimes-girlfriend will go on to create the deadliest super-weapon ever built by humans by accident.

Scorecard

Number of Klingon Bounties on his head: [CLASSIFIED]

Number of women he's slept with: [CLASSIFIED]

Nazi regimes toppled: 1

Number of times he should have had a test that determines if you can stick your dick in it that got named after an upstart from that other science fiction show instead: 1

Ships Commanded: 3

Ships He's Stolen: 3

Category: Slut(affectionate)

Captain Kirk (the other one)

Golden Retriever that got left behind when his family moved away and had to lead a ragtag team of a crotchety older dog and a wet cat on a journey...

No, wait, hold on...

Right! That's the one!

Scorecard

Times he should have been kicked out of Starfleet: At least 4

Ships commanded: 3

Ground transport destroyed: 2 (that we know of)

Number of middle fingers given to Admiralty: 2

Category: Bad Boy

Captain Picard

You know that guy who you see going to the library all the time and always seems to have his nose in a book and always seems to be telling people off for breaking the rules and doing dangerous shit? You'd never know it but he used to be That Guy in college who got, like, ALL the girls and is going to be the Hot Grampa that you don't know how he has that much game, but he got it.

Scorecard

Ships lost in the line of duty: 2

Number of times he married and then estranged his best friend's wife who named their son after her dead first husband: 1

Number of toxic omnipotent and omniscient boyfriends who are obsessed with him and spends their spare time playing with ponies: 1

Category: Inexplicable Sexyman

Captain Badass Sisko

The Cool Dad with baggage. He's got game, but he's got priorities as well, and DON'T mess with his son or you won't even exist anymore to regret it. BLM before it was cool. Led a civil rights riot two centuries before he was born. Space Jesus who can make the best jambalaya you've ever had. Fought and won a war, punched a god, then became one.

Scorecard

Civilizations saved: 4

Native Cultures Treated With the Respect They Deserve: Many

Times He Bent the Rules so his CMO could get some nookie from a Cardasian spy plain, simple tailor: The counter broke

Successful black-ops assassinations completed: 1

Category: BAMF

Captain Janeway

THE single most decorated captain in Starfleet history. Successfully dropped the hammer on dozens of petty tyrants, oppressive regimes, roaming mass murderers, and the Borg. What Prime Directive? Your Mom. Also, probably slept with your mom, that's how much she is the Domme-est of Dommes. She told the Borg to use the safe word...and they DID!

Scorecard

Borg Daughters: 1

Times she told the Borg to step off: 3 (or 4...or 5? Honestly, with the time travel shenanigans it's hard to know for sure)

Nazis she's personally shot: 1

Category: Mistress, but it's "Ma'am" to you

Captain Freeman

She's angry AND disappointed! She's just as good as all the other captains in the fleet, and the good ones know it, but all the rest? They see "cali class" and assume all they're good for is the jobs nobody else wants. But jokes on them, because thanks to that attitude her crew are the flippin' Jacks and Jills of all trades and are more capable of fixing AND fucking AND "fucking" shit up than damn near anyone else!

Scorecard

Times the ship has nearly been destroyed but she and her crew got through it: ...uh...how many episodes are there? And then there's the times that get casual mentions that we never get the details on!

Daughters who should probably be captains now if they were at least a LITTLE more respectful and didn't actively try to piss off Admirals: 1

Times the Cerritos has had to be rebuilt to the point it might as well be called "The Ship of Cerritos Problem": At least 4

Category: Your mom...get back here, I'M NOT DONE TALKING TO YOU!

Captain R'El

Cinnamon Roll, just let m'boy into Starfleet! He just wants a home and a family! I'd like to see full-grown captains who can keep up with half of what this Best Boy is capable of!

Scorecard

Number of species his genetic code is made up of: All of 'em. Even the GODDAMN Q!

Number of Janeways he impressed the socks off of: 2

Quality of his Janeway impression: Bad

Number of Ferengi he out-Ferengi'd: 1

Nazis punched: Give him time...

Category: Teenage Boy Who's NOT GOING THROUGH A PHASE, MOM!

Should I do Captains Shaw and Seven? How about Alternate Timeline Tripp or Future Chakotay? (Going too far down that rabbit hole will eventually lead to Imperial Kirk and Captain Spock from the movies.) Let me know in the comments.

Next Post in this series

[velvetvexations]

My early socialization experience was weird as hell.

My mother wanted a daughter to treat like a doll with all the extremely gendered nonsense that entails - and was also a second wave radfem and former political lesbian, which...yeah she was half all in on the gendered shit, but also half in weird denial about it. My dad...is the one I got my auDHD from, and the result was that he raised me exactly the same way his parents raised him - which was also very gendered, but he didn't notice that. He didn't notice how differently they treated him and his sister. He just noticed what they did right by him and what he wanted to repeat. He taught me how to use tools and rebuild car engines and be handy and outdoorsy; while my mother was giving me the whole "oh sweetie don't get your dress dirty (: oh yes you should be a #girlboss in STEM but fixing a chair is too dangerous for you to do alone why don't you get your dad to help (: are you suuuuure you can lift that 8-pound object???" thing, my dad was teaching me how to operate a forklift and training me with good lifting technique and encouraging me to haul shit twice my size and letting me learn the kinds of lessons that can only be learned by minor injury. Damned near the only thing he WASN'T doing was the whole "man up" schtick, but even THAT I kinda got a detoxified version of; there was a lot of value placed on keeping my complaints in perspective, building my emotional regulation to the...best of my limited ability, and trying to solve problems independently - again, his WHOLE thing was pretty much just "what would I repeat from what my parents did to me? What would I change?" With absolutely no regard paid to "what was different for my sister? What would have been different if I'd been a girl?" Because he straight up didn't notice that shit.

As a result I fundamentally don't care that he can't quite get gendered terms right for me, because whatever, he's always treated me like just a she/her boy anyway.

Meanwhile, like I said, my mother considered herself a feminist, full on tried to force herself to be a lesbian about it in her 20s, and yet she STILL constantly underestimated my physical strength, treated my appearance like it was the most important thing about me, and kept pushing me to sit down and "be polite" - but she usually didn't SAY these things had anything to do with me being a girl, and in many cases probably didn't even realize they were herself. "Girls can do anything boys can do - but also if you fight back against your [also prepubescent, but male] bullies They Will Kill You To Death They Are Stronger You Cannot Win" was a sentiment I got (in much less clear terms) ALL THE TIME from her through elementary school. She was obsessed with my appearance, in that distinct radfemmy "well sure butches are cool but uh by butch you still mean skinny in form-fitting clothes with a pixie cut, right?" kind of way. She would never say I should dress "more ladylike" and would get angry at family members who WOULD say that out loud - she even introduced me to the concept that crossdressing is fine (sometimes) and that trans men exist (in which she made it clear she thought of us as just weird butch women) - but she would get really, really weird and cruel if I wore jeans she considered "unflattering".

And that's just the thing, about why all flavors of radfems are wrong about how "socialization" does and doesn't impact people! She never tied gender to a good half or so of those messages, so even after I started transitioning, they still felt like they were always aimed at me. Meanwhile, I got the same kind of auDHD from my dad that made him never see the gender of his own upbringing, only "things my parents did that I would repeat vs. things they did that I would not" - I only realized just HOW aggressively gendered my mother's behavior was by studying sociology years later.

Terfs are wrong that early socialization is destiny, everyone responds to the same messages the same way, and GNC "men" are treated wonderfully.

T[i]rfs are wrong that we all ONLY ever internalize messages aimed at our ACTUAL genders and trans men can just shake off misogyny because it's not REALLY aimed at us, regardless of whether that claim stays in the realm of "because WE know deep down that something is off when we're being called the wrong thing" or gets all the way into the batshit belief that everyone has ESP for people's essential soul gender and GNC men ARE treated just fine and it's ONLY eggmode trans women who get mistreated (and they all do regardless of how well they do or don't perform masculinity) and trans men are all totally raised as men and never treated misogynistically in the first place because of that soul gender ESP.

And ALL radfems are wrong that there's a rigid, universally applicable set of rules as to what socialization looks like based on your gender - just because there ARE broad patterns that DO need to be acknowledged doesnt erase the fact that from person to person there's a LOT of variance for a LOT of potential reasons, and that ends up meaning that in order to figure out what it means for trans people, you DO have to do a whole individual level examination - including by diving into the whole dysphoria-inducing disaster that is being perceived as the wrong gender and all that comes from it.

Also I sometimes half-jokingly identify as cis-bigender because between the thing with my parents, the fact that when I hit puberty it became apparent that I'm actually intersex, and the fact that I'm pretty sure I'd have been on the femboy-transfem cusp had I been AMAB, over 10 years into transition I finally feel manly enough to go high femme when the mood strikes, and I've finally gotten comfortable calling myself a girl when it's funny, I think that's a very fun label and about as accurate and honest as any single term comes.

I wish I could frame this ask.

[holylulusworld]

Alpha daddy

Summary: Dean is overprotective.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, a/b/o, pregnancy, overprotective alpha, scenting, Dean panics, mentions of pregnancy symptoms, fluff

“Uh-“ Dean immediately jumps up to look you all over as you make an odd noise. You clutch your belly and slowly rub it. “Fuck, that feels odd.”

“Odd? What kind of odd? Does it hurt? Describe the feeling,” your alpha worriedly looks you up and down. “Sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong.”

You don’t want to worry Dean. He’s like an overprotective mother hen since you are pregnant. He barely sleeps, afraid someone or rather something that bumps in the night sneaks into the bunker to attack you.

“I’m—” you pant. “Good. It’s just a stomach bug or something.”

“Stomach bug?” He cocks his head. “This doesn’t look like a stomach bug, Y/N. What’s wrong? I need to know if you need help.”

“It feels…odd,” you choke out. “Something is…I don’t know. It feels wrong. I’m scared.” You finally say as it feels like the muscles across your belly are tightening. It’s not painful, but uncomfortable and you’re afraid, something is wrong with your baby.

“That’s it. I’m going to bring you to the hospital,” Dean looks at your belly one last time before he walks toward the bag he placed next to his side of the bed. The one he prepared for the labor. “Give me a minute.”

Dean grabs his shoes, phone, and keys while barking his brother’s name. “SAMMY! We need to go to the hospital!”

“What? I??” Sam pokes his head into your bedroom. “What’s wrong?” He frowns and switches to worried Uncle Sammy modus. “Is she in pain? It’s too early for contractions, right?”

“I-I don’t know,” Dean throws his hands up. "Take the keys and bag. Start the engine. I’ll help Y/N.”

The brothers make quick work. Sam grabs the bag and snatches the keys out of his brother’s hands. Dean turns his attention toward you. 

He grabs a blanket, your favorite pillow before he slings one arm around your middle to help you get up from the bed. 

Being eight months pregnant isn’t easy. Your belly is huge, and you can barely see your feet. Well, Winchesters are huge. It figures that you look like a whale.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. We are going to the hospital, and everything is going to be alright,” he softly says to calm you. You nod and smile at him while breathing through the next contraction.

If only you could look inside his head right now. He’s scared to hell and back but can’t show it. Dean needs to be strong. For you.

“Thank you,” you sniff as Dean walks you along the hallways toward the garage. “You think everything is going to be alright?”

“I know it will,” he confidentially says. ‘It must, he thinks to himself…

“Doctor!” How is she? Is it labor? It’s too soon, right?” Dean almost tackles the doctor to the ground to get an answer when he leaves the exam room. “Doc?”

“It’s nothing,” the doctor says, earning a huff from you. “Braxton Hicks contractions are normal during pregnancy. Some women feel it, some don’t. Your omega is a little more sensitive.”

Now you roll your eyes. “Dean, let’s go,” you grab your alpha’s hand. “What a dick.” You grunt. “That asshole told me the whole time I shouldn’t make such a fuss.”

“What?” Dean stops in his tracks. “Lemme break his face.” He grunts when you shake your head. “I’ll do it. No one makes my omega feel bad. You were scared and needed advice. Not a douche telling you shit about something he doesn’t understand. That sonofabitch doesn’t even have a uterus.”

You snicker at Dean’s pissed expression. He squares his jaw and dips his head to glance at the doctor. “Dean, I just want to go home.” 

“Can I not punch him a little for talking like that to my omega?” He quirks a brow. “Please.”

“He’s just overworked and it’s late. Maybe he had a long day. Let’s go home. I feel much better knowing it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Hmmm…” Dean still looks at the doctor. He bares his teeth when you turn your attention toward Sam and the snacks he got for you. “I see you, bastard.” Your alpha gives the doctor the evil eye. “Wait for it.”

“Alpha, come on. I wanna go home to my nest,” you hide your face in Dean’s chest to inhale his scent deeply. You’re immediately calmer and feel safe. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“That’s my job.” He puffs his chest. “I’m your alpha. I care about my omega and our baby.” Dean kisses your temple. “I’ll bring you home now…”

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags  

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[janeways-coffees]

Ok I'll bite. What is wheel of time about

Glad you asked!!!! The short version is that it's a story about the inescapability of fate and the cycles of violence and peace in the world!

The long version is uh. Well (spoilers)

So like. Theres a big wheel that weaves the fabric of reality, right? And people get reincarnated and their souls get spit back out into new people, okay? That's how the world works. Also there is magic But! There's boy magic and girl magic.

So imagine you live in a post-scarity fake utopia and you're essentially a magic researcher. You discover magic that is neither girl nor boy magic but a secret third thing everyone who can already use magic can use (its genetic). And you just went through like the worst break up. So you use this cool new power!

And end up tearing a hole in the fabric of space and time. And theres this like entity in there that promises all this power and stuff and you're like "uhhhh well i do wanna be president or at least have my PhD unrevoked" (PhD revoked for tearing a hole in space and time) and also your ex has decided the entity is like. Pure evil. Which it is but you can't let him win that argument.

So you and your ex's ex and like 11 other researchers who aren't getting anywhere close to enough funding are like. Ok. Y'know what. Kinda fuck with the entity. Also we really don't like your ex girl he's too goody-goody.

Unfortunately your ex is also a top level magician/physicist and leads his 100 best friends to go seal your excellent hole in reality. Boo. But before he does this the entity "taints" boy magic so all men who can use magic go insane and kill everyone they love. Unfortunately you were also sealed inside the hole in reality and kinda go into statis for 3000 years.

Anyways because all then male magicians are insane now they essentially are walking nukes with no direction and blast humanity back to the stone age. Some of them kill themselves and some of them level cities and some of them try to not use magic but that's like acting someone who smokes a pack a day to quit cold turkey. So. Humanity forgets.

They forget genetic engineering and flying cars and teleportation magic. They remember the bare bones of ancient oaths and treaties but they don't have conext for them. The dimension of snake/fox people you had a longstanding treaty with is remembered as a children's game.

Anyways 3000 years pass and humanity sinks into darkness and then slowly, painstakingly, rebuilds. You're still trapped with your 12 colleages and the entity, but you have some small influence on the world. You command small armies of genetically engineered beings and mutants to slow progress. You manipulate people's dreams in a parallel dream dimension. You still aren't over your ex.

And then finally your ex's soul is spat back out into the world. He's a shepherd from a remote farming village. He's destined to be the most powerful male magician in 3000 years. He will go insane one day because of the taint on boy magic. You still love him. He doesn't even know who you are. Sometimes you can here him in the boy's voice, his stubborness. His ability to love other women.

Wheel of time is this story. Told from the perspective of your reincarnated ex and his 2 best childhood friends (reincarnated battle tactician with unreal luck and a man who has rediscovered wolf-telepathy), his childhood crush (president of the united states of girlbossery), his old babysitter (woman with every anger issue, ever), and his three girlfriends (yes they smoke weed. No you still aren't one of them).

It's a series that redefined how women are portrayed in fantasy. It recently got a television show that is a slightly different turning of the wheel but makes up for it by being explicity gay and having incredible costuming. It has excellent worldbuiliding and excellent character driven plot lines. It's been an absolute joy to reread after 7 years.

[bereft-reeling]

I wrote something buddie if anyone cares lol

Eddie felt the heat building in his stomach and thighs at the thought he's currently thinking. Which is, why does Buck have to be so attractive covered in water. The pipe busted and Buck was fixing it.

They'd been living together for two days now and it was a new kind of hell for Eddie. And now with Buck covered in water shaking his hair out in the middle of the kitchen. Walking towards Eddie when it slips out.

"I'm gay."

"What?" He stops mid shake.

"I may have done some serious introspection and yeah I don't think my relationships with women have been authentic. That's why it's been so hard to find someone to settle down with."

"And your solution to bad relationships is to date men instead?"

"I thought you'd understand."

"No I do, I'm just a little caught off guard."

"Right I could've segued into that better. But I've been meaning to tell you."

"What made you decide now was a good time?"

Fuck, how was he supposed to respond. You look good soaking wet and it made me want to take you here in this kitchen? Definitely out of the cards.

"Just thought about it is all."

"Well, I support you. It doesn't change us." Oh, he'd hoped.

"Right, of course not."

"I would hug you but uh."

"Please don't."

"I won't I promise. For now, I think I need a shower."

"Put your toothbrush away this time!"

They're on shift together, which is great! What's not great, the way Buck's shirt is squeezing his arms. It always does that but now that Eddie is aware of his feelings, he notices it more. He also notices the curls are wild today, he wants to pull at them and run his fingers through them.

"Eddie, you're staring." Fuck.

"I am?" Play it off.

"You keep staring at me like I'm I don't know, it's just, are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm gay,"

"Not what I asked but uh Eddie?"

All eyes are on him, they're in the engine, and he'd just said that over the shared frequency. Not exactly his plan.

"Well, I for one am glad you finally figured it out." Hen chimes in.

"Finally?"

"Eddie."

Everyone takes their turn, Bobby first, then Chim. But Eddie is still focused on Buck and his big biceps, staring him in the eyes.

"Eddie joined the team!" Buck happily announces and he jumps at the sound of Buck's voice in his ears.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

The rest of the shift is without event. Until they get a call to an apartment fire and Buck is nearly being chased down by this woman who's clearly interested. Buck, is just trying to get back to the engine when she corners him again. They're talking and Eddie can't take it.

"Everything okay here?"

"Yeah, except your coworker here refused to give me his digits."

"Look I don't date people I meet on call."

"And he's taken."

"I am?"

Eddie nearly runs from the exchange because why the hell did he say that? But of course Buck chases him down and puts his hand on his elbow and lord save him he want to crawl into that feeling and never leave it.

"What was that? I'm pretty sure I'd know if I was seeing someone."

"Sorry, it slipped out." This was killing him slowly.

"It did?" Fuck, he's not buying it.

"You should be, taken that is."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Evan."

He swears he's not running, they have to go now, leave the call. So he walks quickly back to the engine and gets in his sear and buckled. After him, Buck follows. He can see the gears turning their conversation over in his head. He let too much slip. And he knew it was only a matter of time before he figured it out. Buck may be into men but, that doesn't guarantee he's into Eddie.

Buck leans his leg to press against his own and it feels like water in a drought. And we was familiar with those. He slides his eyes up tentatively to meet his, icy blue eyes. And the fucker is smiling. A small contained one but one nonetheless.

"So Eddie, now that you're out, what's your type?" All eyes are on him now, expectant.

"Yeah, what kind of man do you want?"

"Uhhh, haven't really given it much thought."

"Bull, spill." Hen with her teasing sassy tone.

"Fine, uh sweet, loving, uh genuine."

"I'm sure there's plenty of guys like that out there." Chim says encouragingly.

"Boring, what do you find sexy?"

"Buck," Bobby warns from the front seat, still facing forward.

"I just wanna know, besides he's my best friend." Weird emphasis, it makes him flush a little. "Do you like skinny guys, bigger guys, or do you like strong men." He's never been more turned on by someone's words as he is now.

They arrive at the call and the conversation forgotten by everyone but Eddie. If he had to compare this feeling to anything it would be a panic attack, but a good one. If that was anything. His heart is racing and he almost grabs the wrong thing.

Back at the station they're eating when it happens again. Buck gets that smile and he knows it can't be anything good. Buck slides his hand down his thigh under the table and he nearly jumps at the contact, maybe he does. No one says anything. Buck squeezes and he sighs. And this isn't a small squeeze either. He does it again and Eddie is completely zoned in on the movement. He forces his face to be something normal. And leans back into his chair a bit, opening his legs, Buck slides his hand up further and he nearly looses it.

Buck removes his hand and acts like he didn't just turn him on in front of everybody without them knowing. He joins back in the conversation seamlessly like the past minute didn't affect him at all. Eddie can't bring himself to pay any attention to the conversation.

Eddie excuses himself a moment later and he's never seen Buck look as smug as he does in this moment. He's in the bathroom breathing when there's a knock on the door. "Buck I'm not in the mood." He opens the door.

Hen is standing confused with an eyebrow raised.

"Hen."

"You good? You left the table looking like a kicked puppy, and that's usually Buck's thing."

"I'm fine, just readjusting is all."

"Well I'm here if you need anything but first, I'mma need you to step out of my way."

He moves out from the bathroom door and makes his way to the table again. Buck smiles at him and watches his every move. He focuses on not bringing any attention to himself as he sits back down. He succeeds in his mission, almost. Buck rests his hand back on Eddie's thigh, no squeezing this time. Just a steady presence, reminding him of what he did mere moments ago.

The drive home is far from uneventful when Buck takes his jacket off and rests the palm of his hand on Eddie's neck.

"This again?" He sighs, "You're driving."

"What can I say, it's fun."

"Buck, why are you doing this?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're my type too."

"As in?"

"You said I should be taken, then say my name all ominous like and you weren't exactly stopping me."

"I wasn't."

Silence, then.

"Do you want to not stop each other and see how far we go?" Fuck.

"More than anything." Buck smiles again, but fully this time. "We'll have to be quiet."

"Mmm, no Chris is going to that friends house today, remember?" His heart feels like it stops for a second.

"Oh, yeah." Buck runs his tongue across his bottom lip and he's addicted.

They pull into the driveway and Eddie is on him the second his door shuts. Pinning him to it. His lips find Buck's neck and he kisses it, catching them both off guard.

"We should go inside." He breathes, "Or I might do something obscene in front of our neighbors."

"Point taken."

[jennarations]

offering a snip from my current landoscar wip if anyone’s interested… it’s heavily influenced by the iconic movie Overboard.

all you need to know for this snip is that Lando is a bratty billionaire and Oscar is the mechanic hired to fix his jet ski 😌 dw Oscar gets his revenge<3

Now, Oscar will be the first to admit he isn’t the best with customer service. But this situation has graduated to an entire new level in his book.

“What kind of fucking idiot does something this stupid?” He catches himself saying under his breath while draining several of the lines connected to the engine.

“Excuse me?”

Oscar freezes. It’s not his fault that the idiot happened to be standing right behind him.

Oscar angles himself towards the voice while keeping his hands in place within the engine case.

There in all his glory, he finds the idiot, in almost no clothing standing above him. The orange speedo is cosmically perfectly level with Oscar’s face, to his utter disappointment.

Oscar chokes on his spit and rounds back towards the jet ski.

“Uh. Sorry, I didn’t know you were like, right there.” Oscar says, trying not to make eye contact with the man’s junk. This must be Lando, he thinks.

“For your information, I had not one, not two, but three women on that jet ski with me when it broke.” Lando, he supposes, says while crossing his arms over his tanned chest.

Oscar tears his eyes away from the man’s oily pecs and really regrets the automatic scoff that comes out as a response.

This only seems to make Lando angrier.

“Oh yeah, be jealous. You’d never get even one woman on a jet ski with you, as bland looking as you are.” Lando says, voice raising a bit in the process.

Oscar grits his teeth and tries to smile politely. “Yes sir I agree.” Then he can’t help the next bit that comes out as well. “Mostly because I actually have to work for a living.”

Lando’s mouth drops open. Oscar’s eyes widen. That really was supposed to be a thought, not a ‘share with the class’ moment.

Lando’s nostrils flare and Oscar believes he’s about to be punched square in the face, hands inside this man’s jet ski and all. But then the guy manages to do something even worse.

Lando wraps both hands around Oscar’s tool bag, actually Max’s tool bag, and whips it clean into the water over the side of the boat.

Oscar springs forward, engine lines be damned, and drops his upper body into the water to save the bag. But it’s too late. The bag is heavy enough to sink farther than Oscar can reach in time.

He sits up, completely drenched, and looks up to find Lando standing on the top step of the staircase up towards the rest of the yacht.

Lando smiles at him and turns, calling over his shoulder, “Gonna be hard to work for a living without your tools! But I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Oscar feels something like hatred settle into his belly, right next to anger and disbelief. How the fuck is he going to explain this to Max?

[endofradio]

YOU’LL ALWAYS FIND ME IN THE KITCHEN AT PARTIES – A SNEAK PEEK

me? writing about this freak? of course. really looking forward to finishing this one i just Had to get this burst of muse out somehow. @trelaney @lacycardigan @daniirosie @strangererotica @tenderhoof @vintageglassheart02 @hesawifebeaterdanusethegun @rachaeljurassic @monstergifpacks @shrimpella21 @lokidoki9 (gif credit: @hamishlinklaters)

Marley was cold, bunched up in a jacket and listening to crickets chirping outside when they watched a red car drive by. Slowly, it kept driving up until it finally reached a pause right when it was close enough to Marley.

When the car stopped, so did Marley, staring at it with a raised eyebrow. There was a middle-aged man in the driver’s seat, looking at them with a smile on his face as he rolled down the window.

Yeah, the stranger was good-looking, but Marley still felt uncomfortable.

“Uh… hey.” They said, giving him an awkward wave before stuffing their hands in their pockets.

The man was still smiling at them, looking friendly as ever. “Hey.” He spoke, his voice gentle. “Walking alone at night in St. James? Really? Not sure if that’s a wise choice.” He chuckled.

Of course, Marley was yet to learn that, but men like John were why this town was unsafe. Hardly anyone even knew who he was.

They shrugged. “Well, I’m still alive, aren’t I? I have street smarts. I’ve got a knife in my pocket. I carry it on me every day.”

The man slowly nodded. “Good, good. Yeah, that’s very important.”

His voice was very quiet and monotone. Awkward, basically.

He glanced at Marley’s work uniform. “You work at that café down there?” He asked, gesturing ahead. “Heard they’ve got great coffee. Might have to stop there some day.”

They rubbed the back of their neck, nodding. “Yeah, I do. My shift just ended, actually. On my way home.”

“How far do you live from there?”

Getting personal already. Weird, but okay.

“I’m… not sure if I want to answer that. I don’t know you.”

“Just curious about how far you have to walk, that’s all, but I’m not letting you walk thirty minutes just to get home.”

Marley sighed. “Takes me around ten minutes to walk home from work. I… appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. I’m an adult, I don’t need help.”

The man’s smile faded. He almost looked disappointed, which Marley hoped wasn’t the case. He just nodded. “Alright, then. Get home safe, okay? Last thing we all need is yet another missing persons report around here…”

He did have a point. There were a lot of people, specifically women, disappearing from this town.

Marley gave him a half-smile. “Thanks. Uh… what’s your name, by the way?”

“John,” he answered, his eyes wandering to their work ID. “Marley, huh? Nice name.”

“John… super basic, but okay. See you around… I guess.”

John muttered something under his breath that almost sounded like “you will,” started up his engine, and drove off into the night.

And Marley did in fact see him again.

When they showed up to work the next day, John was sitting in the café, staring out a window.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Somewhere to Belong | 3/3 | S.R

Part three of my Family Challenge fic.

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N - I am almost positive this is not how the adoption system works but hey, it’s fanfiction, I make my own rules.

Summary - You reveal your master plan to Spencer and the two of you begin on your journey together. Will you be able to help Spencer bring Wren home where she belongs? And when the time comes, will you have what it takes to walk away?

Pairing - Spencer Reid x BAU Fem! Reader

Warnings - confessed feelings, tears, mostly just domestic fluff, making out, allusions to sex but still SFW, crying child, swearing, happy ending.

WC - 9.4k

Part 3

The wheels of your plan had been slow turning, painfully so. You’d started to think you may never reach the end of this goddamn road. 

But finally after months, all the pieces had fallen into place. 

When you received the phone call you were already halfway out of the door before the person on the other end had even finished their sentence. It was the phone call you’d been waiting for, holding your breath every time the device rang. 

And now it had happened, it was time to go and see him. 

You drove out into the suburbs, a manilla folder full of paperwork in the passenger's seat. You parked next to the curb by the house with the canary yellow fence and green front door. 

Before you could exit the car you saw the door open and Spencer let someone out the house. The women had a briefcase and wore a smart pants suit. Definitely a social worker. 

You watched the woman head to her own car and once she was inside the vehicle and starting the engine you stepped out onto the street, bringing your folder with you.

As you headed for the yellow gate your phone buzzed in your pocket. Slowing your strides you retrieved it and read the text message on the screen. 

📱 Spencer Reid: I think it’s over. There’s another couple who have shown interest in adopting Wren and I don’t think I can compete with that. I’m ok, I’m not craving or anything. I just wanted you to know. 

You stuffed the device back in your pocket and looked up at the house, a single light coming from the downstairs window. 

Since you’d accompanied him to Beltway, the two of you had been in touch more regularly. Spencer texted you nearly every day and you spoke on the phone fairly often. 

You’d seen him a handful of times for coffee but you’d never been out to his home in Woodbridge. It was a really nice house, a family home just like the team had described to you. It was a complete one eighty from his old DC apartment. 

You unhooked the gate and slid past it, hugging the folder to your chest as you made your way along the front path and up the steps. 

Before you could talk yourself out of this, you knocked on the green front door. 

Soon you heard it being unlocked and then it tentatively opened. Spencer’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion when he saw you. 

“Y/N hi,” he opened the door slightly wider. “I just texted you.”

“I know, I was…in the neighbourhood?” You shrugged. “Can I come in?” 

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, stepping aside to allow you entrance to his home. 

You walked inside while he shut the door behind you and you glanced around the living room. 

You recognised his leather couch and armchair from his old apartment as well as his record player and chess set. The coffee table was the same but other than that this was not the home you pictured Spencer Reid living in. 

He waited for you to take it in and only spoke again once you looked back at him. 

“Can I get you a drink or anything?”

“No, I’m good.” You nodded, feeling oddly nervous. 

He motioned for the couch and the two of you crossed the room together and sat side by side. You laid the manilla folder in your lap and ran your fingers over it. 

“Whatcha you got there?” He asked, nodding at the file. 

“Uh, well you see…” you trailed off, unable to find the words to communicate what you wanted to say. “How about you have a look.” 

You handed him the file. For a moment he just stared at it with a frown before he cautiously took it from your hand. 

He opened it and started one by one going through the pieces of paper inside. 

The first was an application with a large red stamp proclaiming APPROVED in the bottom right corner. There were several sheaths that documented personal information about you, health checks, financial records, questions and answers relating to your childhood. 

There was a rental agreement renewal for the address in which you lived which had gone unsigned as though you were hesitant in continuing your lease. 

Multiple pages he’d seen before, floor plans of his own home, summaries of home visits at this address. 

One sheet was a letter signed off by BAU Unit Chief Emily Prentiss agreeing to a cut in field hours. Two more sighed letters followed, both dictating what an upstanding human being you were, one signed by SSA Luke Alvez and the other Doctor Tara Lewis. 

He read through them quickly as you knew he would but it still somehow felt like a lifetime before he was neatly tucking the pages away and closing the file. He looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed heavily. 

“I don’t…” he swallowed, his hands starting to shake. “I don’t understand.” 

“Yes, you do.” You nodded. “You’re a genius aren’t you?”

“I…is this a joke?” His eyes flooded with unshed tears as he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“It would be a pretty cruel thing to joke about.” You shrugged.

Spencer rubbed his eyes, trying to push away his tears before they could fall. 

“Just to confirm,” he swallowed thickly, his eyebrows still knitted together in his confusion. “Because I don’t want to misunderstand what’s happening here…”

“Spencer,” you placed your hand on his knee and he noticed you were shaking too. “I would do anything for you. Anything. If this can help you bring that little girl home, then I’ll do it.” 

“You…you’ve gotten approval from the adoption agency.” He croaked. 

“Yes.”

“You’ve done the interviews, cut down your hours at the BAU, not renewed your lease and had Alvez and Lewis write you character references.” 

“Yes.” You nodded. “I still don’t think I’m ready for a family, Spencer. But I can sign on as Wren’s adoptive mother on paper, just so you can get her home. Once she’s home and the paperwork is finalised they can’t take her away from you. We can figure out all the rest once you’ve got her home, I can terminate my rights or whatever. But by then it won’t matter.” 

“W-why would you…” he trailed off again, swallowing. “Why would you do that for me? That’s…crazy. Why would you want to go through all this trouble just so I can have a better chance of adopting Wren?” 

You inhaled really deeply, your chest heaving as you did so. Spencer blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear the new batch of tears from his eyes. 

“I should have said it back.” You mumbled with a shake of your head. “Months ago, you told me you loved me and I should have said it back. But instead I walked away and let you believe I didn’t feel that way about you. But I do. Just because we aren’t together doesn’t make that any less true. And if I can help you bring Wren home I will. Because I love you.” 

The room fell silent while Spencer worked to comprehend everything that was happening. His head spun as though he was drunk, making it harder for him to understand all of this.

This couldn’t have been some idea you’d just come up with, weeks if not months of work had gone into this. You were willing, on paper at least, to be Wren’s adoptive mother when you weren’t ready to have kids. 

You’d told Emily, Luke and Tara at the minimum of your plans. You were willing to give up your apartment, cut back your hours at a job you adored to help him. Because you loved him. You loved him so much you were willing to put his happiness before your own. 

“It’s too much.” He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do all of this.” 

“Good job you never once asked then.” You smiled at him. “It’s all temporary. Once Wren is home I can pick back up my regular case load, I spoke to my landlord about subletting my apartment for a few months so I can move back in once everything is settled.”

“You plan to live here?” He suddenly made the connection. 

“Well I’ve got to live somewhere. And you know, us living in the same house gives the impression of a happy couple who want to adopt a child, don’t you think? It won’t be forever.” 

“What am I supposed to say to my social worker? I forgot to tell her that I had a partner?” Of course he’d try and pick holes in this, it was what Spencer Reid did best. 

“We say we were together but I didn’t think I was ready for a family. But now I am. We tell them I met Wren and fell in love with her and now we want to adopt her together. It’s pretty much what I wrote in my application.” You’d considered every outcome, every bump in the road.

“But you haven’t met Wren.” He shook his head. 

“So I will.” You chuckled. “Spence, stop trying to put blockers in the way when there aren’t any. Let me do this for you, please? Let me help you bring your little girl home.” 

Spencer stared at you silently, blinking frantically as he tried to understand what was happening. He didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed again but you seemed sincere. 

He still didn’t understand how you would be willing to go to such lengths for him but he supposed it didn’t matter. What mattered was you were willing to and he could use all the help he could get. 

Suddenly he threw himself forward, arms flying up to wrap around you. He pulled you close, holding you tightly as he started to loudly sob.

“T-thank you.” He cried into your shoulder as you returned his hug.

“You’re welcome, Spence. You’re so very welcome.” 

You continued to hold him while he sobbed, stroking his back in an attempt to calm him. It was over a half hour later when he finally shed all of his tears, sniffed heavily and sat back to look at you. 

“You really are my most favourite person.” He smiled shakily at you. 

If you didn’t love him so much there was no way you would have even considered helping him adopt a child even if it was only on paper. 

But love makes us do crazy things. And this might just be the craziest.

***

Two days later you anxiously sat in the passenger's seat of Spencer’s Volvo while he drove the two of you to Wren’s halfway home. 

You played with your hands in your lap, barely speaking as you tried to comprehend meeting this little girl who had become Spencer’s whole world. 

You’d agreed to tell Wren you were Spencer’s friend it was the truth and much less complicated than explaining everything to her. You would test the waters with her first, see how she felt about it before broaching it with the social worker. 

Your legs wobbled a little as you got out of the car and Spencer was regarding you curiously. 

“Are you sure about this?” He asked softly, his fingers brushing across your knuckles. 

“Yeah.” You forced a smile. “She means so much to you, I’m just worried she won’t like me.” 

“She’s going to love you. Trust me.” 

The look he was giving you made your stomach coil into knots. Your knees buckled and your heart yearned for him. 

It was such a cruel world that you could be so in love with someone yet not be destined to each other. 

As you started towards the building he slipped his hand in yours and it was so easy to pretend this wasn’t all for show. 

He led you inside, saying his hellos to some of the people working in the halfway home, clearly he’d been here a lot. He carried on through to a larger room filled with kids of all ages, your heart bled for them all. 

As your eyes cast around the room, you were quickly snapped back around when you heard someone calling Spencer’s name. 

“Spencer! Spencer!” 

You looked back just in time to see a head of dark curls you remembered from when you’d seen her sleeping on Spencer’s lap at the BAU running right towards the two of you. 

He let go of your hand so he could outstretch his arms for the girl who happily fell into them. 

“Missed you.” She tucked herself in his arms. 

“I missed you too, pumpkin.” He sighed in content as he hugged her. 

You watched the way he seemed to light up the moment Wren was nearby, how all the weight he carried on his shoulders slipped away. As he cuddled the five year old, he seemed at peace. 

And you knew you were doing the right thing. 

Wren stepped back from his embrace and looked up at you, head tilted to the side in a curious fashion and little dark eyebrows furrowed. 

“Who are you?” She asked, pouting a little. 

“This is my friend, Y/N.” Spencer spoke for you. “Y/N, this is Wren.” 

“Why is she here?” Wren looked back at Spencer in concern. 

“I thought you’d like to meet her.” Spencer’s tone completely changed when he spoke to her, you’d never heard him like it before. 

It was soft and sweet, obviously it relaxed the young girl. Usually. But it was clear by the concerned expression in her face it wasn’t working today. 

“But I like spending time with you.” Her lip jutted out. 

“I’m still here aren’t I?” Spencer chuckled, tucking a rogue strand of her hair back off of her rosy face. 

“Hey Wren,” you crouched down so you were the same height as her, garnering her attention. “I heard you love Halloween?” 

She looked between Spencer who was still standing at his full height and back to you before looking back at him again. 

“It’s ok,” he encouraged her with a smile. 

She looked back at you once more, a hint of scepticism in her bright eyes. 

“Yes.” She nodded feverishly. 

“And you love books too, right?” 

“Yes.” She nodded again. 

“Well that’s perfect because I just so happen to have a book all about Halloween!” You grinned at her whilst reaching into your purse.

Spencer frowned a little, you hadn’t mentioned this on the drive over. He watched as you pulled a book out of your bag, a brightly coloured hardback depicting cartoon pictures of ghosts, witches and monsters getting ready for a spooky party. 

The title read The Night Before Halloween. 

Neither of you could tell what Wren was thinking, for a five year old she was amazing at masking her expression even though she probably didn’t realise she was doing it. 

She looked from the book to your eyes then to Spencer and around in the same loop a few times before settling on Spencer. 

“Do you want me to read it to you?” He asked her, trying to prompt her to speak. 

“No.” Wren shook her head and turned back to you.

You tried to hide your disappointment. This was your only play, your only way in with her and you’d blown it. 

But then the little girl smiled at you. 

“I want Y/N to read it to me.” She reached out her little hand for you and you pushed yourself back up to your full height and took it. 

She led you over to the couch with Spencer following close behind. You glanced at him over your shoulder and he was smiling at you as he mouthed the words, good job.

***

Two more visits with Wren and she had warmed up to you the same way he had with Spencer. By the third visit she even hugged you. 

And you saw exactly why Spencer loved her. 

By the time September rolled around you’d moved into Spencer’s suburban home - in the spare room - and had multiple visits with Jenny who struggled to grasp what was happening at first. 

Understandably she was sceptical about your sudden involvement but after more rigorous interviews she started to warm up the same way Wren had. 

As you weren’t travelling with the team so much anymore and mostly working cases out of Quantico, you and Spencer spent a lot of time together. 

He was always home before you, his classes at Marlborough never running past four pm. And as much as you hated to admit it, having someone to come home to everyday was delightful in its domesticity.

When you did travel with the team, usually around every one in four cases, Spencer would call you everyday and send you photographs of him and Wren when he visited her. 

Spencer was learning to cook for Wren so the poor girl didn’t have to live off of cereal, coffee and ice cream, or as you always referred to it: The Doctor Reid Diet. 

He tried out his new recipes on you and at least eighty percent of them were edible. 

You’d been allowed to take Wren out on more day trips, with Jenny in tow of course. The two of you took her to museums and book stores and ice cream parlours; to the park, once to a carnival and anywhere else her little imagination could think to go.

It was midway into October when you arrived back from a case in Florida in which you’d been gone for six days. You knew Spencer had waited up for you as he’d called you to tell you he would. 

When you let yourself in the green front door of the house that was feeling more like a home by the day, it wasn’t the messy haired genius who met you. 

What did meet you certainly had messy hair, but its dopey expression told you it was no genius. 

The creature trotted over to you, tongue hanging out of its slightly lopsided mouth and offered you a single bark whilst nuzzling against your shin. 

You stared at the scruffy dog using your leg as a scratching post with wide eyes. Somewhere in the house you heard footsteps and you glanced up to see Spencer appearing from the kitchen. 

“Hey, how was your day?” He smiled at you, completely ignoring the confusion on your face. 

“Uh, it was perfectly normal until I came home and was greeted by this.” You pointed down at the mutt who was staring expectantly at you. 

“He. Not this.” Spencer padded over and quickly scooped up the small, messy animal in his arms. “This is Rover.” 

Rover licked Spencer’s cheek and much to your confusion, the germaphobe didn’t even bat an eyelid. 

“Last I checked Rover was a stuffed animal. This creature seems to be very much alive.” 

“Wren decided she wanted a dog. I said we could go to the pound and look, just look. But, uh, she kinda fell in love with this little guy and I can’t say no to her.” He shrugged, scratching Rover behind his ear. 

“So you now have a dog.” You hung your bag up by the door.

“We have a dog.” 

“Oh no.” You shook your head, walking past him towards the kitchen. “I’m outta here once Wren’s home. The dog is your problem.” 

Spencer placed the creature, which you thought more resembled a gremlin than a dog, on the floor and followed you. 

“He’ll grow on you.” 

“He most certainly won’t. I’m a cat person. And last I checked you weren’t all that keen on dogs either.” 

“But Wren is. So I guess I’m a dog person now.” He leant against the counter in the kitchen while you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. 

You turned back to look at him as you uncapped it. You had a curious smile on your lips.

“What? What’s that look for?” He frowned a little.

“It’s just funny,” you took a sip. “Six months ago I would never have imagined either of us to be here.” 

“Me either.” He agreed with a smile. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.” He started towards you. “You’re a big part of that, you know? I know this is all for show and we’re just doing this until Wren is home, but, uh…I like having you here.” 

“It’s not all for show.” You placed the bottle on the counter behind you as you felt a little dizzy with the way Spencer was looking at you. 

“No?” He reached you, stopping a few feet in front of you. 

“I like being here too.” You confessed, your legs shaking a little due to the look he was currently giving you. 

“I’m glad.” He swallowed and your eyes were drawn to his Adam’s apple and the way it bobbed deliciously beneath his flesh. “I’m, uh, I’m on the verge of doing something very dumb.”

“How do you know it’s dumb until you do it?” You had a pretty good idea of what he was talking about. 

“Because I’m a genius and my brain is screaming how dumb it would be.” He chuckled, stepping even closer to you. 

“Maybe for once, don’t listen to your brain, Spence.” 

To encourage him, you reached for him, placing your hand on his shoulder. He swallowed again as he stepped nearer to you still. 

Cautiously he raised his own hands and placed them on the sides of your face, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. 

“Don’t listen to my brain?” He whispered, wanting confirmation.

“Just this one time.” You offered him a smile and it was all he needed to close the space between you. 

When his lips gently brushed against your own, your hand quickly moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck to keep him close.

You parted your lips and he replied in kind by deepening the kiss. 

He pushed his body flush against you, pressing you into the counter. He held your face delicately but soon the kiss was growing frantic. 

It wasn’t at all long before he was manoeuvring you away from the counter and towards the kitchen door, never tearing his lips from yours. Not at least until his back collided with the door.

He broke the kiss and started to laugh, you did the same. He reached behind him and opened the door, taking your hand pulling you along with him.

The two of you were giggling like a couple of teenagers as you ascended the stairs, neither of you paying much mind to the dog asleep in his bed. 

He led you to his room and once inside he pushed you back against the wall and kissed you ardently again.  

He rolled his hips against yours so you could feel the bulge in his slacks and you moaned into his mouth. 

And then he was leading you to his bed as he helped you out of your clothes. 

It was only then as you lay beneath you realised how much you’d missed him. And you knew when or if the time came for Wren to come home and this little domestic bubble popped, it was going to be hard to drag yourself away. 

***

You fell asleep wrapped in Spencer’s arm after several hours and multiple orgasms. When you woke in the morning he was already awake, staring at you with a smile on his face. 

“Hey,” he stroked your messy hair behind your ear.

“Hey yourself.” You smiled back, inching closer and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Last night was…” he trailed off searching for the right word but finding none that did it justice. 

“Amazing?” You laughed lightly.

“That’s certainly one word for it.” He agreed, hand cupping your cheek. “So I don’t wanna be the kind of person that asks this but, uh…did that mean something? Was it just sex or did it mean something? Because I would…uh…I’d really like it to have meant something.” 

His nerves were tangled in his words and you could see in his eyes that he hated asking you this. You smiled and ran your fingertips lightly over his bicep. 

“Well I guess that…” you were stopped by the sound of Spencer’s phone ringing and he pulled a face of frustration. 

“Shoot,” he let go of your face. “To be continued?” 

You nodded and watched him roll over, grabbing his cell phone off the nightstand and putting it to his ear while sitting up on the edge of the mattress. 

“Doctor Reid,” he spoke and then was silent for a moment or two and his back straightened. “Seriously? You…I…seriously? Uh, yeah of course. Today? Gosh…yes. Ok. Ok. Thank you. Goodbye.” 

His hand holding the phone fell to his lap limply but other than that he didn’t move. You rolled closer to him with a frown, wrapping an arm around his waist when you were close enough.

He slowly turned his head to look at you and you couldn’t read his expression.

“Spence?” You croaked. “Is everything ok?” 

He exhaled through parted lips, his eyes widening a little before he slowly started to nod. 

“Y-yeah,” his voice cracked. “Yeah everything’s great. That was Jenny. Apparently we’ve been approved for placement under supervision for Wren. It might not be permanent and Jenny will visit every week. But they wouldn’t let us bring her home if there wasn’t a strong possibility of us being able to adopt her. She’s coming home, Y/N. Our little girl is coming home.”

His tears overflowed when he reached the end of his speech and the smile that adorned his lips was brighter than the sun and all the stars in the sky combined. 

You jumped up and threw yourself into his lap, wrapping your arms tightly around him. 

“Oh gosh Spence, that’s great!” You felt your own tears well in your eyes as he held you. 

And for some reason when he called her our little girl, it didn’t freak you out in the slightest, 

***

Wren was an excitable blur of hand gestures and bounces in her seat as Spencer drove the three of you home later that afternoon. 

She’d only ever seen photographs of the room Spencer had put together for her and she was buzzing to see it with her own eyes. 

It was only once he got close to home driving through the neighbourhood she had lived with her parents whom she watched die, that she clammed up.

You sat in the back of the car with her and watched the way her eyes turned down at the corners as she looked out the window at the familiar houses. 

You reached out to her, held her hand.

“It’s ok if you miss them, Wren.” You whispered and her head whipped around to face you.

She was gnawing on her bottom lip, perhaps trying to stop from pouting. 

“But I don’t want to make you and Spencer sad.” She spoke in equally hushed tones. 

“Hey now silly girl,” Spencer’s right hand appeared between the front seats, blindly reaching for her knee. “You could never make us sad. You have no idea how happy you make us, pumpkin.” 

“But you will miss your mommy and daddy and we want you to be able to tell us when you do, ok?” You added, squeezing her hand. 

“O-ok.” She nodded, turning back out of the window. 

Soon enough Spencer pulled the car to a stop outside of the house with the canary yellow fence and green front door. 

He exited the car and rushed around to open Wren’s door while you unbuckled her seatbelt. He lifted her in his arms, spun her around twice, and planted her on her feet on the sidewalk. 

She instantly reached for you both, gripping Spencer’s hand in her left and yours in her right. 

You and Spencer shared a smile over her head as you led her up to the front door. 

The second the door was open a messy haired small mutt ran at full pelt towards the three of you, practically crashing straight into Wren. 

She giggled and threw her arms around the dog. 

“Rover!” She screeched, burying her face into his matted fur. 

Spencer took her bag from her and unzipped it, pulling out the toy Rover and holding him out towards the girl and her dog. 

“Rover meet Rover.” He spoke and Wren beamed brightly as she took the toy from him. 

She held it in front of the real dog's face and he licked the toy feverishly, making Wren giggle again. 

“I think they’re going to be friends!” She cheered happily. 

“That’s a relief.” Spencer chuckled, hand naturally slipping in yours. 

“Would the Rover’s like to see your new room, honey?” You asked Wren, entwining your fingers with Spencer’s.

“I think so!” She jumped up and down. “Come on big Rover, come on little Rover.”

You and Spencer shared another smile as you led the way, hand in hand, up the stairs and towards the room at the end of the hall. 

One of the Rover’s was held by Wren around his neck while the other followed of his own accord. You both stepped aside and motioned for Wren to open the door. 

She looked positively giddy with excitement as she reached for the handle. She pushed open the door and Spencer reached inside to flick the lights on. 

Her eyes widened as a dozen strings of pumpkin fairy lights cast their glow across the warm autumnal walls, thick cream carpet and everything in between. 

She took a few steps inside the room and the two of you watched her eyes flicker between the My Little Pony bed sheets, her name placard above the bed, the bookshelf stuffed full of books, another shelf packed with stuffed animals. 

They moved between the dog bed meant for little Rover which big Rover was now already making his way to, to the dresser under the window with a little mirror and her very own chess set. 

They made their way to the wardrobe which Spencer had stencilled with falling leaves and little brown birds of her namesake. 

Her eyes danced from here to there, there to here and back again. When they finally came to a stop on you and Spencer, they were full of tears. 

“This is…for me?” Her bottom lip pouted. 

“I don’t know any other little girls called Wren.” Spencer smiled at her. 

She suddenly dove at the two of you, one arm wrapping around each of you and nuzzling between you. You felt her small frame racking with sobs and it made your heart melt. 

“T-thank you.” She cried, squeezing you both as tightly as she could. “I love you.” 

You looked at Spencer, you both had tears welling in your own eyes. 

And god dammit if you didn’t love her too. 

***

The three of you ate ice cream for dinner on the floor of her bedroom at Wren’s insistence. 

You and Spencer played with her and her new collection of stuffed toys, as well as the real life Rover before you took turns reading to her until she finally fell asleep. 

Rover was already curled up in the dog bed at the foot of Wren’s bed so you left him there and the two of you quietly crept from the room. 

With the day's events you hadn’t had a chance to talk about what happened last night and now you were in the corridor, you weren’t sure what room to go to. 

Clearly Spencer didn’t either. 

He awkwardly scuffed the toe of his candy corn print sock on the carpet whilst rolling his lip between his teeth. 

“Should we, uh…talk?” He shrugged. 

“Most likely, yes.” You nodded and silently he led the two of you back downstairs to the living room. 

You were both quiet, not meeting the others' gaze as you sat in the armchair and him on the couch. The air was thick with tension, and you didn’t even know where to begin with this conversation.

“I know you don’t want to be Wren’s mom.” He suddenly blurted out. “And I’d never ask you to. But I love you and last night was…it was perfect. I don’t want to choose between having you and Wren in my life. I know it wouldn’t be easy because if everything goes to plan I will have a child at the end of it. You think there’s any chance you’d want to date a single dad?” 

He was talking so fast all of his words merged into one and it took you a few moments to ascertain what he was saying. But before you could really catch up, he was talking again.

“We get Wren home permanently, you can give up your rights just like you planned. You move out and you go back to your normal case load but maybe…maybe we can work things out? I know it won’t be easy but I don’t care. 

You clearly mean a lot to Wren and I know she would love it if you were still a part of her life after all this, even if it’s not as her adoptive mother. And I hope that you can still be part of my life. As my partner, my one true love. 

Wren will be my reasonability, I won’t expect anything from you in regards to her. But I don’t want to be without you, even if it means our life is separate from my life with Wren. I don’t think it’s entirely beyond the realms of possibility to think we could make it work. I just think-”

“Spencer,” you had to cut him off or he would spend the next hour rambling. “I don’t think it’s entirely beyond the realms of possibility either.” 

“You…you don’t?” He inhaled sharply.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you pushed yourself up and moved slowly closer to him. When you reached him you lowered yourself so you were sitting in his lap. “It’s going to be hard in fact, really hard. But dating a single dad doesn’t sound like the worst idea in the world. Especially when that single dad is you.” 

His hands glided across your back, settling on your shoulder blades and holding you firmly in place, 

“We’ll make it work.” He smiled at you, inching closer.

“We’ll make it work.” You repeated just as his lips pressed against yours. 

***

The day after Wren was placed with you and Spencer, he and the little girl started excitedly decorating the house for Halloween which was two weeks away. 

The house was a menagerie of fake cobwebs which you kept walking into, strings of little ghosts hanging in every doorway. A newly carved pumpkin appeared on the porch every single day you returned home from work. 

By the time Halloween rolled around the three of you had fallen into somewhat of a routine. 

You had tried to distance yourself from parental activities, as soon as the paperwork was finalised you would be moving out and you didn’t want Wren to get too used to you being around. 

The last thing you wanted to do was confuse a child who had already lost her biological parents. 

Spencer dropped her at school on the way to Marlborough everyday and picked her up on his way home. 

He cooked dinner which the two of them ate together and he saved leftovers for when you arrived home. 

Nine times out of ten Wren was already in bed by the time you got home from Quantico which helped. It also gave you alone time with Spencer. 

Usually you wouldn’t even be in the door more than ten minutes before he was leading you to the bedroom. You’d been sleeping in his room since Wren had come home, although there was usually little sleeping happening. 

You’d both quickly learnt how to be quiet, not wanting to further traumatise the girl by having her hear the two of you having sex. 

The routine seemed to work for the three of you, it allowed Spencer and Wren to grow closer whilst allowing you and Spencer to grow closer. 

On Halloween night you got out of work slightly earlier but still expected Spencer and Wren to be out trick or treating. 

He’d promised the little girl months ago to take her and she’d been so excited for tonight, talking about it non stop since she’d come home with you. 

He wanted to make her a costume and you tried to teach Spencer how to sew but when that didn’t work you showed him how YouTube worked so he could learn that way. 

He’d slaved over creating her a pumpkin costume which was a little lopsided and probably could have been neater but he was so proud of his creation. 

Wren had insisted he dress up too so you arrived home to find Dracula in your living room. 

“What happened to trick or treating?” You asked as you stepped in the door and hung your jacket up.

“Oh hey,” he smiled brightly as soon as he saw you, moving closer to you. He went to kiss you but then remembered the fake blood on his mouth and refrained. “We’re about to leave, Wren is just getting dressed.” 

“Did she love her costume?” 

“You have no idea. I’ve never heard a five year old scream before and I’m not sure it’s something I want to relive in a hurry.” He chuckled, straightening up his cape. “Now you’re home you can join us.”

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head. 

“Oh come on, she’d love it if you came.” Spencer gave you his puppy dog eyes which you tried to ignore. 

“You’re the parent.” You reminded him. “And besides, someone should stay home with Rover.”

“Rover is ten years old and sleeps all day.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know. I just-” 

You were cut off by the sound of Wren running down the stairs. When she appeared in her pumpkin costume, complete with orange painted face, she was smiling from ear to ear.

“Y/N!” She jumped up and down excitedly. “I’m a pumpkin!” 

“Oh wow, you look great!” You cheered. 

She beamed, happily showing off her costume like a proud parent. 

“Are you coming trick or treating with us?” She asked with expectant green eyes. 

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Please! You have to come!” She jiggled, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. 

“Yeah Y/N,” Spencer smirked at you. “You have to.” 

“I don’t have a costume.” You shrugged. 

“Leave that to me.” Spencer stepped closer to you and took hold of your hand. “Wren give us five minutes and we’ll head out, ok?” 

“Ok!” She nodded, moving aside so Spencer could lead you upstairs. 

You let him lead you to the bedroom, which he’d done countless times before but you knew this wasn’t for the reasons you would like. 

“I took the liberty of picking something up for you at the costume store when I was getting mine.” He let go of your hand so he could open the closet. 

“Of course you did.” You sighed. 

He pulled out an outfit in a costume bag and turned it to face you. Inside was sheathed all the makings of a witches costume. 

A long, flowy purple crushed velvet dress with long, billowy sleeves. A black wig. A pointy hat. 

You rolled your eyes as you took it from him, trying to ignore the stupid look on his face. 

“Fine, I will wear it. But you are not painting my face.” 

“Deal.” He grinned, in a smug way knowing he’d won.

***

Ten minutes later the three of you were out the door. Dracula, the witch and the pumpkin. 

Wren was full of excitement as she skipped on just ahead of you, swinging her little bucket she hoped to fill with candy. 

“She’s your problem when she won’t sleep tonight because she’s hopped up on sugar.” You spoke as Spencer slipped his hand in yours. 

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, eyes never leaving the back of the curly haired pumpkin. “Thank you for coming.”

“Did I have a choice?” You joked. 

Spencer briefly glanced at the side of your face before focusing back on Wren who was now making her way up a front porch of one of your neighbours houses. The two of you hung back by the gate. 

“You don’t like spending time with her.” He looked back at you while Wren was busy getting her candy. 

“That’s not true. I love spending time with her, she’s an amazing kid. But I don’t want her to get used to me being around all the time. She lost her mom and dad, I don’t want her to see me as a parental figure only to lose me too.” 

Spencer’s hand slipped from yours and he quickly pocketed both of his hands. You frowned at him as he turned away from you. 

“Right. Of course.” He watched Wren smile and thank Mrs Taylor for the candy. 

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” You glared at him.

“Nothing. I just forget sometimes what a hardship this is for you.” 

“Spencer, I never said-”

“What did you get, pumpkin?” He cut you off as Wren came running back over, his tone lightening as he regarded her. 

Wren showed off her haul and soon you were continuing on. Spencer walked with Wren now, holding her free hand while you hung back. 

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that this would get complicated. But why did it? 

***

The night ended worse than it started. When your rounds of the neighbourhood took you past the old Briar house, the home where Wren watched her parents die, it came to an abrupt end with tears. 

Spencer carried her home while she sobbed in his arms. He put her to bed and spent a long time coddling her while she cried for her parents. 

He found you in the living room, your wig and hat on the coffee table. You stood from the couch when he entered the room. 

“I don’t really feel like company tonight so maybe you should just stay in the guest room.” His jaw was clenched tightly as he spoke. 

“Right, sure.” You nodded. 

He turned away from you, started towards the stairs before quickly turned back around.

“You know what actually, maybe you should look into moving back into your apartment. This place is kinda crowded. You only need to be here when Jenny visits anyway, there’s no point in you being here all the time. And that way Wren won’t get attached to you and it’ll make it easier all round.” He turned again but before he could get too far you grabbed him by the wrist. 

“Spencer, please don’t say that. We talked about this, we had a plan, we-”

“Stop it, please.” He cut you off. “I can’t do this right now, ok? I have a little girl upstairs who I had to rock to sleep because she couldn’t stop crying about her dead parents. I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with all this right now.” 

“Fine.” You clenched your jaw to stop the tears falling. “But let me just say it isn’t fair for you to act this way when we had an agreement. You knew what my involvement was going to be in all of this and the plan was never for me to be her mother!” 

“The plan?” He suddenly spat. “The goddamn plan? You make it sound so clinical!”

“I thought it was.” You rolled your eyes. “Did you expect that I was going to wake up one day and change my mind? Was that what you hoped for here? That I’d play happy families and realise this is what I wanted?”

“Yes,” he shrugged. “Yes, that's exactly what I hoped would happen. Excuse me for believing that two people who are as in love as I thought we were could raise a child together.” 

“Maybe I should move out.” 

“Good.”

“Great.” 

“I’ll help you pack.” With that he turned again and this time you let him go. 

You watched as he ascended the staircase, clearly wanting to make more noise about it but not wanting to wake Wren. 

Once you heard his bedroom door shut you fell back to the couch and your tears unleashed. 

What had possessed you into thinking this would be a good idea? You’d wanted to help Spencer and never once stopped to think of the ramifications. 

Like it or not you and Wren had grown close, despite your best efforts. Your leaving would be hard on her. And it would be hard on you too.

You’d come to care for that little girl even though you’d tried so hard not to. You weren’t ready to be a mom, or so you thought, but Wren had wormed her way into your heart. 

And now you were going to lose her and Spencer through your own stubbornness. 

Well done, Y/N, you thought to yourself as you cried. You’ve really gone and fucked this up. 

***

The following day Spencer dropped Wren off at school, thankfully in a much brighter mood than she had been the previous night. 

You both had the day off work for Jenny’s weekly visit and if she noticed the awkwardness between the two of you she didn’t mention it. 

Spencer was amazing at keeping his emotions in check when he needed to and even you believed he was happy. 

You sat amicably and drank tea while Spencer filled the social worker in on your Halloween night, glossing over all the bad parts. 

It struck you that Jenny wasn’t taking notes like usual, didn’t even have her notebook out. You weren’t sure if Spencer noticed or not or if he was too busy pretending he had the perfect family to notice. 

When the tea dried up along with the conversation, Jenny pulled a manilla envelope out of her briefcase and proffered it forward. 

Spencer took it with a frown, in the corner in black ink it read simply: Re: Wren Briar - Reid Y/L/N.

“Uh,” he ran his fingers over the envelope and looked up at Jenny with a frown. “What is this?” 

Jenny smiled softly, a smile that reached all the way to her eyes. 

“Congratulations,” she spoke sincerely. “That is your official adoption papers. Wren is now formally in the care of the two of you.” 

You felt a flurry of emotions all at once and you didn’t know which one to focus on. But you were distracted from that when Spencer, out of nowhere, started sobbing. 

“S-seriously?” He stuttered, tears streaming from his eyes. 

“Seriously, Doctor Reid.” Jenny smiled. “I know it’s been a long and difficult process, but it’s over now.”

“Oh my god.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. “Oh my god.” 

Seeing the happiness on Spencer’s face made your own tears fall and you gripped him tightly. 

“We did it, Spence. We did it.” You cried. 

Jenny saw herself out as the two of you continued to cry. At some point Spencer wrapped you in his arms and sobbed into your shoulder while you did the same into his chest. 

Eventually both your tears started letting up and he sat back and wiped the stains on your cheek. He was smiling shakily at you and you returned the gesture. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispered, voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t leave. I don’t want to do this without you. I know this wasn’t part of the plan but-”

“Screw the plan.” You cut him off. “Plans change. I can’t ignore the feeling of elation and relief I felt when Jenny told us. Goddamnit I love Wren, I love her so much. And I want to be her mother, Spencer, I really want that.” 

“You…” he choked. “You do?”

“Yes. This wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself but life isn’t straightforward. Things happen, plans change. I found my family. And it’s you and Wren.” You smiled as your tears started up again.

Spencer was quick to tug you back into his arms and hold you tighter than you’d ever been held before. He nuzzled against your neck and placed soft kisses on your flesh. 

“I love you so much.” He cried. “And I love our little found family.” 

You stayed like this for some time, until you needed to pick Wren up from school. For the first time you and Spencer went together. 

When you told her the news she jumped up and down and squeezed you both as tightly as her little arms would allow and it filled your heart to the brim. 

There was no doubt in your mind that this was where you were supposed to be. 

As she planted big sloppy kisses on yours and Spencer’s cheeks, you heard him whisper, welcome to the family little pumpkin. 

***

Four Months Later

The noise from the backyard filtered in through the open door, little voices chattering, the occasional screech of excitement, giggle from tiny lungs and small feet pitter pattering in the grass. 

You poured yourself a glass of water and sipped from it while you observed the chaos. 

It was Wren’s sixth birthday and damn near every child in her school had descended on your home. The BAU team members and their kids were all in attendance and you wondered if your garden would ever be the same again. 

There was a bounce house in one corner, a magician in the other - for which Spencer had begrudged paying for when he could have done it himself. 

You’d insisted he wanted to be more present for the event, really enjoy the memories made today on her first birthday as your daughter. 

Rover had long ago distanced himself from children pulling his matted fur and retired to his bed in Wren’s room. You couldn’t blame him, you’d half contemplated joining him. 

You were exhausted from all the planning, from the demands of motherhood and still trying to hold down your job at the BAU, albeit only part time now. 

You hadn’t even stopped to consider how tiring the party would actually be. 

You felt a presence behind you and spun on your heels to find Spencer smiling at you as he sidled up to you. He moved in close and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Are you as tired as I am?” He chuckled. 

“I don’t think anyone is as tired as you, you’re the life and soul of this party.” You teased him. “I saw Wren dragging you on to the bounce house.” 

“It’s been a long time since my old knee injury hurt this bad.” He grumbled a little. “But it’s worth it to see her happy.” 

“I can’t believe she’s six already. The months are flying by.” You sighed wistfully. 

“She’ll be eighteen and going off to college any day now.” He laughed.

“Bringing boys home.”

“Don’t you dare!” He gasped. “Do not put that idea in my head.”

“Sorry,” you smiled sweetly. “It’s a long way off.” 

“It better be.” He shook his head. 

“So, uh…I got you something.” You reached behind you and grabbed the small, neatly wrapped gift off of the kitchen counter. 

Spencer frowned at it as he took it somewhat cautiously. 

“You got me a gift? For our daughter's birthday?” He ran his fingertips over the wrapping paper curiously. 

“Just open it and be grateful.” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

Still with a frown on his face, Spencer tore the gift wrap, the same kind as you used to wrap the obscene amount of gifts you’d brought Wren. 

You held your breath and waited, your nerves getting the better of you and you leaned back against the counter top as your legs shook a little. 

Spencer’s deft fingers made quick work of the paper, tossing it aside like the excited six year old had with her own gifts. 

Once opened he stared at the item in his hand. Approximately five inches long. Thin. Hard plastic. 

You watched him stare at it as if it was a completely foreign object, patiently waiting for him to look up, to say something. 

His hands started to tremble and when he finally did look up at you, tears swam in his eyes. 

“Is this…for real?” His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke. 

“It’s like the fifth one I took so I’m fairly certain.” You nodded, feeling your own eyes fill with tears. “Wren’s going to be a big sister.” 

Pregnancy test still in hand, he suddenly threw his arms around you and squeezed you so tightly you felt the air leave your lungs. 

“We’re having another child?” He whispered against your neck.

“This family just keeps growing.” You laughed as you wrapped him in your arms. 

You wiped away your tears, not wanting to be seen crying at Wren’s birthday party. But soon your moment was over, and you were being forced away from each other. 

“Mommy, daddy, is it time for cake?” Wren’s voice carried in from the garden.

You sprung apart and stared at each other, a new batch of tears in both of your eyes for completely different reasons. 

“Did she just…” you breathed, voice slightly horse.

“I think so.” Spencer sniffed, a delighted smile on his face. 

Thus far Wren had always called you both by your names which was entirely understandable. Spencer had always told her she could call you mom and dad if and when she felt it was right. 

“As if this day wasn’t perfect enough.” He wiped his eyes, pocketing the pregnancy test after giving it one last look. 

“We better go, daddy.” You winked at him and went to pass him but he grabbed you by the waist. 

“Oh jeez, why is that so hot when you say it?” He growled, bowing his head and placing kisses on your neck, making you giggle. 

“Really?” You smirked. 

“Really.” He hissed, stepping back and nodding to his crotch where you can instantly see the bulge forming in his slacks. 

“Hmm, I’ll bear that in mind daddy.” You chuckled and he let out a soft low moan.

But before he could reply, you were summoned again. 

“Mommy, daddy!” Wren hollered from the yard. 

“Ok, not so sexy anymore.” He shook his head, stepping further back. “I’ll get the cake.”

“I’ll get my phone so I can film you and your horrible singing.” You gently kissed his cheek before he walked away. 

Spencer lit the six candles on the pumpkin shaped birthday cake and cautiously carried it through to the yard while he began singing happy birthday. 

All the kids and adults joined in as Wren beamed from ear to ear as all eyes were on her. You held your cellphone steady, hovering by the back door where you filmed the chorus.

When the song was over everybody cheered and Wren sucked in a huge breath before blowing out the candles. 

You watched on as Spencer placed a kiss in her messy dark hair and she smiled brightly at her dad in return. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off the two of them, Wren bouncing excitedly in her chair while Spencer went about cutting the cake into slices for all the children. 

Spencer handed her the first slice and she gorged on it, stuffing the cake in her mouth and leaving icing smudged around her lips.

It was crazy how much things had changed in such a short space of time. Six months ago you never would have pictured yourself here, a mother to a six year old and growing another child inside of you. 

Life has a funny way of giving us exactly what we want at exactly the wrong time. But for you and Spencer and Wren, the world had worked its magic and done you all the biggest favour. 

It had given the three of you the kind of love you all so sorely needed, it had offered a home to three people who were out in the cold. It had created a family, who in eight months time would have a new addition to it. 

Ultimately all we really strive for in life is to find somewhere to belong, and although it may have been unexpected, it was safe to say that you, Spencer and Wren had found that somewhere with each other. 

@ultragirrl @wittlewowa @bxtchopolis @coldheartedmar