#in his normal voice) Since we are engaged in detective work

[willowreadsgayfanfiction]

[essence-inked]

So this was initially going to be a tragedy, but it turns out I am very bad at writing those.

This story may get more later since it's far from over, but for now, this seems like a good place to pause and post what I've got.

________________________________

NAVIGATION SYSTEMS: ONLINE

LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEMS: ONLINE

COMMUNICATIONS SYSTEMS: ONLIME

STRUCTURAL DAMAGE: MINIMAL

Lev let out a sigh of relief. In front of him, the words on the spacecraft’s diagnostic readouts glowed green, washed out by sunlight streaming through the open hatch and filtering across the console.

ENGINE STATUS: SIGNIFICANT DAMAGE DETECTED

Of course. Of fucking course there would be something wrong.

MEDICAL SYSTEMS: SOME DAMAGE SUSTAINED

“Yeah, yeah, not the problem right now.” Lev tapped on the engine section of the readout, and engaged the audio input-output function.

“Alright, computer, how bad is it?”

“Please rephrase.” The melodic voice of the ship’s computer crackled slightly - the crash must’ve rattled the intercom systems a bit, too, Lev figured.

“What exactly does the engine damage mean for getting us out of here?”

“Esoteric geometry travel is no longer possible. Current engine damage will also become catastrophic at any speed greater than 0.1c.”

“One tenth the speed of light? Shit. And you’re sure there’s no way the ship can go any faster than that?”

“Any attempt to exceed 0.1c will result in a 100% probability of total destruction.”

Lev reached under the console, rummaging around until he found his old star chart. He didn’t really need it, but it was one of the things he’d wanted to bring with him on the journey, and had figured he might as well keep it in the cockpit. He unfolded the chart and laid it out on one of the consoles that wasn’t in use, tracing the route he and Madeline had taken.

“Right, so we started here.” He put his finger on the home they’d left. The little backwater mining colony could only persist as long as there was something to mine, and with the work all done, it had been time to go. The next freighter wouldn’t be due for another year - a whole year of sitting and waiting and watching Madeline grow up on a forsaken, dying moon - so Lev had decided to spend no small amount of his savings to rent one of the small, automated ships for people who really needed to be somewhere fast, and who didn’t want to make any stops along the way.

“And we were going there…” He tapped their destination, a star system where he had some cousins almost as old and withered as himself, with families of their own. Traveling through non-space was very quick, and had everything not gone to hell, the trip only should’ve taken a little over a month. But when the more esoteric bits of the ship’s systems failed, they had needed to drop back into plain old normal space, and head for the first world with breathable air they could find.

“It looks like we’re about halfway there, so only three light-years left to go. Which would mean, with the engines the way they are, it would take us… “

The realization hit like an icy cold wind, piercing deep into his soul.

“Thirty years.”

By then, the cousins would be in their very last years, and their children would be his own age. He and Madeline could take the journey in the emergency cryo-pods, made for if the esoteric geometry drive failed, but it was hardly a cheery sort of solution. They’d wake up, not a day older than before, and step out of the ship onto a world that had long since moved on without them.

They could send a message instead - the communications systems were still working fine - and that would take just those three years to make it to the nearest populated world, the one they were heading for. From there, they could be rescued in mere weeks via non-space travel, but that would still mean having to stay alive for years in this place until the message made the journey across the stars. Lev considered, pulling up the images he’d taken of the planet as they’d come in for a landing.

He’d had enough foresight to crash the ship in the most lush-looking region, which in this case, consisted of a scattering of scrub, and a couple lonely, feeble-looking trees. The place seemed to be a terraforming project in progress, left to grow and flourish a bit before people came to stay. None of the plants seemed edible, and all he’d seen to account for animal life was a couple of bugs, and some sort of weasel-looking creature scurrying away out of sight. It was cold here, even near the equator, and the atmosphere was thin, the sun harsh and burning.

Could they survive here? There might be edible plants somewhere, but that was one hell of a gamble, and Lev wasn’t sure he’d place his bets on weasel-hunting carrying them through a month either, let alone a few years. They might make it, but an old man and a child of twelve were hardly going to be very good at toughing out that wait.

His reverie, however, was interrupted from a shout outside the spacecraft.

“Grandpa!”

Lev heard the sound of footsteps on twigs as Madeline came running towards the ship, her jacket a spot of red against the browns and grays and yellow-greens of the landscape.

“Grandpa, look st this!” She came rushing into the cockpit, and Lev rose from his chair, wincing at the sudden, shooting pain in his hip. The crash had made it worse - another reason he’d have trouble keeping them alive here; he didn’t think he’d be able to run, much less lift anything heavy.

“I found this really cool rock that’s shaped like a heart and I wanted to give it to you because I love you and I know you’re really sad we’re stuck here.” She held out her hand, a smooth, gray rock in her palm.

Lev took it, admiring it for a moment. “I love it. And you. Thank you, kiddo.”

She beamed up st him, and he noticed that there was a cut running along the side of her cheek, smudged with dirt.

“You’re hurt - what happened?”

“I tripped and fell on one of those thorny bushes.”

“Well, let’s get you patched up. C’mon, we’re going to the medbay.” Lev led the way to the small room off the ship’s single corridor. It wasn’t really a medbay proper, just a room with a couple cryo-pods, and a medkit stored next to them, which was just enough to earn it the title. As they came up on the door, though, Lev paused. The metal had buckled near the top from some sort of impact. and the top hinge on the door was torn off.

Shit.

He turned the handle and pulled, and with a horrible, screeching creak, the door inched open.

Lev stepped inside, and froze. In front of him, one of the two cryo-pods lay bolted to the floor, perfectly intact. The other cryo pod lay on its side - damn shoddy engineering, the thing should’ve stayed put even with all that force from the crash - with the end closer to the door smashed to bits. The screen embedded in the lid of the pod was shattered, and Lev could see bits of exposed, torn up wiring protruding from it.

“Grandpa? What's wrong?” Madeline moved to peer around him, and Lev found that even if he had wanted to stop her, he couldn’t bring himself to move. He saw Madeline’s eyes go wide at the sight, but there was no terror on her face. She doesn’t realize what this means yet.

He forced himself to move, to step forward and pick up the medkit and step out of the room into the hall. Forced himself to set the kit down on the floor, kneel down beside it, and pull out some sterilizing wipes.

Forced himself to look a little less like a man that knew he was going to die.

“Come on, let’s get that cut cleaned up.”

________________________________

That night, they feasted, eating many days of rations each. Madeline wouldn’t need them in the cryo-pod, and Lev figured a wouldn’t make much of a difference - if he did somehow manage to survive here, it wouldn’t be thanks to just a handful of days of extra food. They had made a fire a short ways from the ship, and dragged over some rocks to sit on. Between bites of steaming hot instant noodles, Lev told Madeline about the legends behind the stars dotting the night sky.

“And see that one?”

Madeline’s gaze followed his finger, pointing to a faint speck of light a few degrees above the horizon.

“Yeah, what’s its story?”

“Well,” Lev said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips - he’d saved the best for last. “That one doesn't have any good stories yet, but I bet you’ll change that.”

“Me?”

“That’s where our family is. And when you get there… kiddo, knowing you and your zest for life, someday people are going to look at that star, and they’re going to say, look - that’s where Madeline grew up. That’s where she went to school, and made friends, and ate all her favorite food.”

“Like cupcakes?”

“SO many cupcakes.”

Madeline looked down at the ground, pushing some dirt around with the toe of her sneaker, and after a moment, her eyes rose back up to meet Lev’s.

“Except, you’re not coming.”

“You knew.”

“Yeah.” She let out a shaky breath, clearly holding back tears. “But grandpa, it’s just broken. Can’t we fix it?”

“Well, kiddo, we’d need replacement parts, and the ship doesn’t have those, or any way to manufacture them.”

“It’s just making a place really, really cold, right? Can’t we do that without all those parts?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. It took lots of people lots of years to figure out how to put travelers in stasis in a way that didn’t hurt them - all those bits in the cryo-pod are bits we need.”

“Okay, but… you can’t just stay here! Not alone. Maybe I could stay with you?” She swiped her coat sleeve across her eyes, brushing away the tears building up in them, and sudden determination swept over her face. “I could help you find food. And I could build things. And then when help comes, we can leave together!”

Lev let his face fall into his hands.

“Kiddo, you’ve got to understand - I need you to go. I need you to have the best shot at surviving - at living - as you can. And hey, if all goes well, maybe when you get there, I’ll be waiting.” He’d be ninety-seven in thirty years, but people were living to a hundred and twenty these days, and the system they were going to had some damn good doctors.

But before any of that, he still needed to survive here for three long years.

Madeline was quiet, contemplating. At long last, she spoke. “What if I want to stay with you?”

Lev felt tears welling up in his own eyes, too. “Please, Madeline, it’s my job to keep you safe. I already lost your mom last year, and I need you to - “

“But I DON’T WANT TO!” She leapt to her feet, hands clenched at her sides. “I know I can survive, and I don’t care what you think, because all you think about is what can go wrong!”

“Madeline, I - “

But she was gone, running away into the dark.

________________________________

Lev had considered trying to follow Madeline, but decided to let her take the time she needed. It wouldn’t get below freezing tonight according to the ship’s computer, and there were no dangerous animals around or giant cliffs or such. Instead, he’d stayed up waiting inside the ship, finally dozing off sometime in the wee hours of the morning.

When he woke in the chair he’d been waiting in, it was to the sound of pen scratching on paper. He cracked open an eye, sunlight from the open hatch flooding the room. A few feet away, Madeline lay sprawled out on the floor, intently scribbling something on a notepad.

“Morning, kiddo. Get any sleep?”

“Nope, but I made you something.” She got to her feet and passed him the notepad. “I’m almost done.”

Lev took the notepad, taking in the pages of what looked like some sort of half-decent survival plans. There were ideas for ways to trap the weasels, for water purification, even for games to play to stay entertained.

“I talked to the computer,” Madeline said. “I asked it to look through the library for things like getting water, and I know you would probably do the same thing, but I wanted to show you I’m ready.”

Lev was still trying to pull himself from the thick fog of sleep, and Madeline pressed on before he could try to cobble together some sensible words.

“I know you’re going to say that it doesn’t matter, because it’s still dangerous, so I thought about that, too. And for a while I couldn’t think of anything, but then the computer wanted a list of stuff we had on the ship to help me figure out how we could make weasel traps. And I just sort of mentioned the cryo-pod along with everything else, because if I WAS staying, then it’d be here too along eith the rest of the ship, and then I thought… Grandpa, why can’t I just go into they cryo-pod right here if it gets too dangerous?”

“Well, I…” Lev trailed off, her words fully sinking in. She actually wasn’t wrong. Had he really been so unwilling to even consider another option that he’d missed it entirely? It was, possibly, even safer, because then she wouldn’t be flying through space on a damaged ship.

He sat up a bit straighter in his chair, still barely daring to think that this could actually work. But she was right, and even if he didn’t live to join her, she would only be three years behind schedule, not thirty.

“Kiddo, you’re a damn genius.”

“So I can stay?”

“Under one condition. Just promise me something, okay? If things do get really bad, you’ve got to promise to get in the pod, so that one day, you can go see the stars and tell them all about your crotchety old grandpa.”

“Alright. I promise.”

Lev looked out the hatch, into the bright, harsh morning light. It was on him to make sure she was okay, he thought, and he’d been about to do a pretty crap job of it. He’d been so sure all they could do was accept their fate that he hadn’t even tried to fix the problem, and she’d almost been all the worse for it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen sooner.”

“It’s okay,” Madeline told him, “I know you were scared.”

Dialogue prompt:

“Just promise me something. Tell the stars about me.”

[cinebration]

Engage My Services (Sherlock Holmes x Reader) [Request]

Oooohhhh I have an idea for you: Arranged Marriage and Sherlock Holmes. He doesn’t have to be the one in the match 😉—Requested by @inlovewithhisblueeyes​

Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: none

Gif Source: henrycavilledits

Horror. Absolute horror.

It curdled your stomach and turned everything sour from your guts to the taste on your dry tongue. Nevermind that it had been nearly forty-eight hours since you had been given the devastating news.

Marriage. Without your consent, no less.

It had taken you two days to determine what to do. No amount of putting your foot down had prevented your parents from changing their stubborn minds.

Which is how you found yourself in Sherlock’s chaotic sitting room.

His landlady should have been present, it being a bit inappropriate for you to be in his flat alone, but you were a slight exception. After all, you had known Sherlock and his brother for years thanks to your father’s insistence on attending social engagements. Mycroft had dragged his brother to several of them, and given that you both were of the same mindset when it came to the frivolous festivities, you both had come to an easy familiarity.

It was, however, the first time you had been to his flat.

The chaos had a method, you were sure, but looking at it, you couldn’t quite discern it. Sherlock, unaccustomed to visitors, swept broadsheets off a dusty chair and gestured for you to sit.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, perplexed. As much as the man was a detective, when it came to emotional matters, he was rather dense. As far as he could tell, you were agitated. But no matter what his deductive faculties told him—that you had arrived in a hansom rather than your family’s cab without rushing despite some urgency in your bearing—he couldn’t determine what it was that had you so upset.

“My progenitors”—you only bandied that term around when you were displeased with them—“have decided to wed me off to an unspeakable suitor.”

Sherlock stilled in his seat, but you took no notice. Wringing your gloves in your hands, you struggled to collect yourself. You were doing a poor job of it, feeling an enraged flush combating your shocked pallor.

“They refuse to allow me to reject the proposal,” you continued, visibly shaking. “But Lord Worthington is a brute, and they refuse to see it. They would rather marry me off to a devil for the social station.”

Gripping your gloves with renewed vehemence, you glanced up at Sherlock. He stared at you curiously, a furrow in his normally smooth brow. The muscle in his jaw twitched.

“You want me to find proof,” he finally said, his voice low and quiet.

“Yes. Proof that shows them he is unsuitable.”

Sherlock lapsed into silence. Fidgeting under his heavy gaze, you frowned, trying to read him.

“I know this isn’t your usual milieu—it isn’t stimulating, I know—but you are the one person who could find proof.” You glanced down at your poorly abused gloves. “You’re the only person who would ever help me.”

“I shall.”

Jerking your head up, you met his suddenly averted gaze in surprise. “Thank you, Sherlock.”

“You should go so I may begin my work.” The words came out clipped, curt.

Perplexed by his strange manner, you acquiesced, afraid he might change his mind if you lingered. You left his flat with cautiously raised spirits.

~~

“We have no choice but to reject the proposal,” your mother whispered. “This is…”

“Damning,” your father finished. “Absolutely damning. Why have we not heard of this before?”

You did, you thought savagely from your position on the stairs, but you didn’t heed me.

Sherlock had arrived some ten minutes before to deliver to your parents the proof of Lord Worthington’s damned nature. You had snuck downstairs to eavesdrop on the conversation. Sherlock hadn’t had much to say except that when he had heard of the engagement, he had been appalled that so disreputable a man had been given even a modicum of courtesy. Then he had left.

As your parents panicked over their near-mistake, you hastened back up the stairs and took the narrow servants’ stairs down to the kitchen. You could possibly catch up to Sherlock before he hailed a cab. You stepped through the door leading to the outside.

Sherlock waited by it, startling you with his unexpected presence.

“Thank you!” you cried when your composure returned. “I am blessedly unfettered now.”

He shifted on his feet, his hands in his pockets. “You deserve better than a bastard like Worthington.”

You laughed despite being surprised by his language. “A bastard indeed.”

He blinked, equally shocked to hear the same word pass your lips. Smiling broadly, you nearly enveloped him in a crushing hug. Your joy radiated from you in palpable waves as you beamed at him.

Adjusting his collar, Sherlock smiled back for a moment. It passed as quickly as it had arrived.

“What is it?” you asked, feeling your happiness slip a fraction.

“I take it that your joy is only being relieved of Lord Worthington.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Not…not being unwed.”

You frowned. “I am happy to be free at this moment, but that is not to say that I am loathe to marry, if that is what you mean.”

He nodded, the somber look on his face lightening a fraction. “That is good.”

Before you could ask why, he ducked his head in a slight bow.

“I am happy to have been of service. Please do not hesitate to engage my services again.”

You struggled to hold onto your joy as he left, wondering why the exchange felt so strange and why you felt curiously disappointed he hadn’t lingered longer.

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Can We Be Wrong Tonight? - Chapter Two

Pairing: Colin Zabel x Reader

Work Summary: In the wake of Missy Sager’s disappearance, you’re having trouble staying safe while making ends meet. Colin Zabel x Sex Worker!Reader.

Chapter Summary: Detective Zabel engages your services.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2948

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @trashmaximoff @raincoffeeandfandoms @josephines-simps-fics @mrs-kai-anderson

Taglist info.

Notes:

Warnings: smut, sex work, petite!reader

---

After a long day of classes, you lay face down onto your bed. You had two assignments due next week and you had no idea when you were going to find the time.

You didn’t have the energy to worry about that right now. You needed a nap.

Beside you on your pillow, your phone buzzed loudly, the sound ripping through the haze. The screen lit up with the words ‘Text message from Zabel’. You sat up.

It had been three days since he’d dropped you off at your home. Three days since he’d cleaned up your wounds. Three days since you’d propositioned him. This was the first you’d heard from him. Heart racing, you opened the message.

Can I call you? was all it said. Flushed, you texted back a simple affirmative.

A moment later, the phone began to ring. You answered it immediately.

“Hello?”

“Hey… It’s Colin Zabel.” He sounded nervous. “We met the other day.”

“I remember you. Did you get my email with the CCTV footage alright?” You already knew that they had. Mare had emailed you back her thanks.

“What?” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh yeah, yeah we did. It was very helpful, thank you. That’s, uh… That’s not why I’m calling.”

“Oh?” You let the pitch of your voice drop into a lower, more sultry register. “What can I do for you, detective?”

“Can I… Can we…” You heard him taking a deep breath. “I want to meet up. Can we do that?”

“Are you trying to engage my services, detective?” you purred.

“I… Yeah. Yes, I am.”

You bit your lip. You really should say no. He was a cop. A cop with pretty eyes and strong hands. But a cop, nonetheless.

Against your better judgment, you said, “tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me.”

You gave him a place and a time to meet you. As you put your phone down, you were almost breathless; from anxiety or excitement, you weren’t sure.

*

This hotel wasn’t one of your usual haunts. You wanted to put as much distance between this and your normal work as possible, just in case it went wrong.

You met Zabel in the parking lot. His face was very pink as he took you in. You’d settled for a more discrete outfit: lingerie hidden under jeans and a nice top, high heeled boots and a leather jacket, a backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Evening, detective,” you said, smirking at him.

“You look gorgeous,” he blurted out, and then his face turned somehow even redder.

You held out your hand to him. “Shall we go inside?” He stared at you for a moment, and then took it.

You didn’t say anything as he paid for the room. Feeling in a coquettish, teasing mood, you leant into his side, playing the part of the devoted girlfriend for the receptionist’s benefit. Not that she seemed to care. She barely looked up from her computer.

As soon as she handed over the key, you squeezed Zabel’s hand again.

“Come on, baby,” you said. There was a flash of anxiety across his face, gone almost as soon as it had appeared.

He was quiet as you made your way up to the room. He didn’t speak until you were inside with the door shut behind you.

“I’ve never done this before,” he said.

“No? I never would’ve guessed,” you teased. “I can show you the ropes, detective.” You tugged on the lapels of his jacket, pulling him towards you. Standing this close, he towered over you. It was pretty hot.

“Colin,” he said.

“Huh?”

“Call me Colin, please.”

“Colin…” You let your lips wrap around the word, releasing it breathily into the air between you. You were close enough that you could see the goosebumps that sprang up along his neck.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, and he closed the space between you. His lips were soft but firm, insistent against yours. You let him set the pace, melting into his arms as his tongue probed curiously into your mouth.

He pulled back very suddenly. “I haven’t… I haven’t…” He stuttered, grasping for words. You just waited, fingers still curled into the front of his jacket, for him to find them. “I haven’t had sex since my fiancée left me. So I’m probably a little rusty.”

“That’s okay,” you cooed. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He was very cute. You kind of want to pinch his cheeks. And ride his face. Hm.

When he kissed you again, it was with more confidence. His hands came up to rest on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Y/N…” he murmured, and you froze. He stopped moving too, his arms still around you. “Sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

You looked up into his eyes. They were dark but bright and shiny. He seemed so earnest and genuine. You liked that about him.

“No, baby,” you said softly. “I don’t normally use my real name when I’m working, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want me to call you something else?”

“No, it’s okay.” You had a few different pseudonyms you traded between, depending on the type of client. Changing names helped you slip into a new persona. “You already know my real name, so it doesn’t make a difference.”

But it did make a difference. As he started kissing your neck, your head was spinning. There was something so exposing about being here and being Y/N, rather than any of the myriad people you’d be on any other night.

The cat was out of the bag. Even if you asked him to call you something else, you would both know it was a lie. Best to just go with it.

His movements were so gentle and unsure. He needed guidance, and you were willing to give it. With both hands on his chest, you pushed him back towards the bed. He went willingly – so eager and pliant – and you straddled his lap.

As your crotch pressed against his clothed erection, you let out a moan. “Colin.”

He buried his face into your neck and held you tight against him. “You smell good,” he murmured.

You pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “Where do you want me?”

“I…” For a moment, he looked lost. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” You stood up from his lap. “Let me know if that changes.” He stared at you, bereft, until you tugged your shirt off over your head. You took your bra off too, tossing it aside.

“Fuck.” At the sight of your bare breasts, his eyes had gotten very large.

“Can I take this off?” you asked, fingering the bottom of his shirt. He nodded, so you started on the buttons. His eyes were on your face. You were almost scared to meet them. He might burn a hole right through you. You focused instead on his shirt.

When you finally got it off, you were greeted by the sight of his body. He was reasonably slim, with a soft tummy. He didn’t have much body hair, except for a happy trail that led tantalisingly down past his waistband.

Kneeling between his legs, you got to work on his belt. You undid it and pulled his trousers and underwear down just enough for his dick to spring free.

You curled your hand around it and pressed a kiss to the skin there. Colin swore again. Feeling pleased with yourself, you licked at the head. He tasted like a delicious combination of sweat and soap.

As you slipped one hand down to cup his balls, he gasped out a moan. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and took him all the way into your mouth.

“Fuck.” His hands fisted into the bedsheets. His dick was long enough that you couldn’t fit it all in your mouth and had to wrap a hand around the base. You hollowed out your cheeks and sucked, dragging moans and gasps from deep within him.

It was exceptionally satisfying. He reacted to your every touch. He gripped the sheets, almost as though he was too nervous to ask if he could touch you and didn’t know what else to do with his hands. You wouldn’t have minded him pulling your hair, but as a general rule you wanted to be asked first.

You pulled back, still holding his dick in your hand. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. His pupils were so big that you could hardly see his irises.

“You doing okay, baby?” you asked.

“More than okay.” He sounded breathless. “You’re good at that.”

“Where do you want to cum?”

His eyes widened. You continued stroking his dick, looking up at him innocently. “On your face,” he said after a long moment.

You dipped forward again and starting to lick his balls. He let out a gasp and then fell back, leaning on his elbows. His dick rested against your cheek as you licked and sucked at his balls. You could see the way his stomach muscles trembled.

“I’m gonna-”

You sat up a little straighter, looking him directly in the eye as you jerked him off. Cum splattered across your face, landing on your cheeks and lips. You kept going until he let out a little whine. When you released him, his breathing started to even out a little.

He gazed down at you with a soft smile on his face. You licked your lips, tasting him on them. Scooping up some cum with your thumb, you put it in your mouth and sucked, savouring the taste.

“Jesus,” he murmured, staring at you.

“He had nothing to do with it, I assure you,” you said. Slowly, you got to your feet. It was strange; you were completely topless, but still wearing jeans. You dabbed at the cum that was still on your face, trying not to ruin your make-up any further. Colin tentatively hooked his finger into your belt loop and pulled you closer.

“Can I go down on you?” he asked.

You shivered. “You don’t have to do that.”

“What if I want to?” He didn’t meet your eyes. Instead, he was staring hungrily at where the lace of your panties was sticking up over the top of your jeans.

“Yeah, if you want to.”

When you gave the green light, something switched in him. Gone was the shy man who could barely form words while his dick was in your mouth, and was afraid to touch you. He stood and kicked off his jeans and underwear. Without warning, he slipped his hands under your thighs and lifted you off your feet. You squeaked as he spun you around, your back hitting the bed.

He unbuttoned your jeans and tugged them down, leaving you in only your panties and knee-high socks. You let him press you into the mattress, your heart thumping as he pressed his face into your stomach. His breath was hot against your skin. He nuzzled at your hipbone, and then slid your panties to one side.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he unstuck them from your wetness. Your skin felt very hot. His tongue delved tentatively into your folds, tasting your arousal, and you trembled.

His palm was flat on your stomach, holding you in place. It was all he needed to do. There was something very hot about how much control he had over you right now. You never normally let yourself get in this deep, but as his tongue pressed hard against your clit, you felt your resolve melting away.

He was good. What he lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm, and he seemed finely tuned to every little gasp and shudder you let out.

He pinched your clit between two fingers and squeezed. You moaned, curling your legs loosely around his shoulders. This didn’t have to be good for you. That wasn’t the point of this. But it was good.

As he prized your labia apart with his fingers and sunk his tongue into you, your back arched. The firm pressure of his thumb against your clit brought you to orgasm, shaking and trembling and squeezing around his tongue.

“Colin,” you moaned, your toes curling. He held you through it, never letting up on the insistent rubbing of his thumb on your clit.

When your body finally relaxed, he let you go, leaning back to take in the sight of you. You were laying out in front of him, naked but for your socks and panties, breathing hard.

“Was that… was that okay?” asked Colin nervously.

“That was amazing,” you murmured. He flushed. You could tell he wasn’t sure whether to believe you. After all, it was your job to make him feel good. But you weren’t lying. It had been amazing.

As you sat up, you saw that he was hard again. Feeling generous, you reached for his cock. You wrapped your hand around it and his eyes fell closed.

You started to jerk him off, but his hand covered yours suddenly. “Can I fuck you?”

Still sat on the edge of the bed, you stared up at him with innocent eyes. His cheeks were bright and his lips were wet with your cum.

“Yeah,” you said breathless, “Okay.”

You stood and went over to the bag you’d left by the door. You carried a range of sizes of condoms, but you’d already seen Colin’s dick so you grabbed a large and tossed the packet to him. As he rolled it onto himself and jerked his dick a few times for good measure, you stripped off your panties and lay back on the bed.

“How do you want me, Colin?” you asked. You rolled over onto your hands and knees, looking at him over your shoulder. “Like this?”

He grabbed your hips, stilling your movements. “I want to see your face.”

You let him roll you sideways onto your back. One socked foot came up to rest on his shoulder, the other hooked behind his hip, pulling him closer to you. He lined himself up and then pushed into you.

His eyes fell shut. With your legs, you pulled him closer until he was hovering over you, his knees either side of your hips.

When he opened his eyes, he looked down at you. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, smoothing a lock of hair behind your ear. The tenderness on his face made you catch your breath. As he began to thrust into you – slow, deep thrusts – you tangled your hands in his hair.

You weren’t used to feeling like this. It had been a long while since you’d had a relationship. You never had sex for fun anymore. Part of you had forgotten what it was like.

Your second orgasm hit you hard. It caught you off guard, so instead of your usual exaggerated moans, it came out as a whimper. You clung to Colin, feeling the hot, solid warmth of his body on top of yours.

When he came, he moaned your name, his thrusts speeding up. You angled your hips, meeting his every motion, but when he pulled out of you and you felt suddenly very empty.

Colin tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash. Splayed out on the bed, you felt vulnerable, so you sat up, crossing your legs. Neither of you spoke as he dressed himself.

After a long moment of silence, he cleared his throat. “Thank you. That was… That was awesome.” You didn’t say anything as he grabbed his wallet and started counting out bills. Your heart was sinking slowly.

Part of you was angry at yourself for being so stupid. You’d got caught up in the moment, fleetingly wishing that instead of paying you for your services, he would roll over in bed and spoon you. But of course he didn’t. He handed you a wad of bills.

“That covers it, right?” He looked nervous.

You thumbed through the money in your hands. “And then some. You’ve overpaid.” You made as though to hand some of it back, but he shook his head.

“It’s a tip.”

“Thank you.” Your skin felt very hot.

“Do you want me to drop you home? I’ve got my car.”

“No thanks.” The words were out before you’d even had a chance to think about them, but you knew it was the right thing to do. Tonight was enough of a headfuck as it was, without him driving you home.

Maybe your period was approaching. That’s the only explanation you could think of as to why you felt so weird.

“Well… I’ll see you around?” said Colin awkwardly.

“You know where to find me.”

As soon as the hotel room door clicked shut behind him, you got to your feet. Your legs felt like lead, but you forced yourself to walk into the ensuite bathroom. You peed – it wasn’t worth the risk of a UTI – and got out your face wipes.

There were still traces of dried cum on your face. Wincing, you got to work wiping them – and your make-up – off.

You saw the tears before you felt them, and then they were unstoppable. Your shoulders shook and you had to wrap your arms around yourself.

Colin had paid for the room for the night, so you retrieved clean underwear, a t-shirt and sweats from your backpack. Dressed in comfy clothes, you felt less vulnerable and exposed, so you hit the lights and crawled into the bed. You were asleep in moments.

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Wormhole | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 10k

A/N: This is a comfort fic disguised as a CM episode. Also, I had a lot of fun writing this.

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, murder, general CM things, hospitals, mentions of blood, psychopaths

You weren’t normally nervous to talk to Agent Aaron Hotchner. Sure, he was your boss, but he had also been leading the BAU for so long that you always trusted his reactions and motives. Still, the reason you had asked him to meet was so far out of left field that you were nervous he would tell you you were insane.

You were the first one in the office for the morning, perching on your desk in the empty bullpen while you waited for Hotch to arrive. You stood up when he entered the office, but waited to move until he made it to his office door and beckoned you to follow him inside.

“Good morning, (y/n).”

“Morning, Hotch,” you stood awkwardly in front of his desk, clutching the file in your hands.

“Please, sit. Is everything ok?” As soon as you made eye contact with him, your nerves settled. Everything about his behavior showed that he was genuinely concerned for you and interested in what you had to say. You took a deep breath, sliding the file onto his desk.

“I was looking into this cold case from the eighties, in Illinois. Mia-Rose Horn, 16, found murdered under a bridge. I have a theory, and I was hoping I could take a couple of days to go check it out.” You bit your lip while he picked up the file, thumbing through it.

“What’s your theory?”

“The only suspects considered were older transients in the area because the town was so biased against migrant workers. My preliminary research shows that the unsub profiles as younger, someone who knew the victim and her family personally. It feels like there’s a piece of the puzzle missing, and I think victimology can really help this case. I’d like to visit the dumpsite and walk the crime scene. I’d also like to go through the evidence to see if I can narrow it down a little more, and possibly do updated DNA analysis. I’ve already contacted the lead detective, he said it would be fine if I went out there.”

Hotch was quiet for a minute, reading the case information from the file. The longer you sat in silence, the more you feared he would say no. Finally, he closed the file and handed it back to you, “the FBI wasn’t invited in on this case when it was active, how did you find it?”

You blushed, hard. “I was watching a cold case documentary and when they talked about this one it just didn’t feel right, so I asked Garcia to pull the file. Once I looked it over more I realized my hunch was correct. They barely built a profile and the one they did make was wrong.”

“Do you work on cold cases often?”

“I’ve only worked on it when we don’t have an active case and I’m caught up on my paperwork, it makes me feel like I’m still making a difference when things are slow here.”

Hotch nodded, “you’re a good agent, (y/n). I trust that you’ll represent the BAU well. I can’t let you take the jet but you’re welcome to an SUV. However, as soon as we get an active case it takes priority. Do you understand?”

You stood up quickly, excitedly gripping at the file, “Yes sir, of course. Thank you so much. I promise I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think I could do something. I won’t let you down, sir.” Hotch smiled softly at your energy. You had reached for the door handle before he spoke again, calling after you.

“(y/n),” you turned, hand still on the doorknob, “take Reid with you, I assume he knows the details of this case, too?” You nodded quickly, practically bouncing back to your desk with excitement. You checked the clock, Spencer would probably arrive in the next ten minutes or so, giving you time to arrange everything you’d need for the trip.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, you were waiting for him, go bag in hand.

“Hotch said you could go?”

“Not only that, he said you could come with me,” you smirked, falling in step next to him as he walked to his desk.

“Really?”

“We’re leaving now, so get your go bag.” You did a little happy dance as he started to gather his things.

“Ooh! Where are you going?” Penelope joined you at Spencer’s desk, hot cup of coffee in her hands.

“(y/n) is solving a cold case, we’re going out to Illinois to get more information.”

“The one I pulled for you? You actually solved it? Is there anything you can’t do?” Penelope asked in disbelief. Just last week she had explained to you why she was convinced you were a superhero.

You laughed brightly, “I don’t know if I can solve it yet, that’s why I need to go check it out for myself. Yes, I’ll call you if I need anything,” you answered when she opened her mouth to speak again. She hugged both you and Spencer before you left, making you promise you’d call her with updates and letting you know she’d call the detective to let him know you were on your way.

In true Spencer fashion, he had brought enough audiobooks to last the whole drive. You didn’t mind, your brain was more focused on driving. You didn’t talk about the case until you were nearing the end of the twelve hour road trip. Spencer was the one to bring it up, turning down the volume knob on the console.

“How are you feeling about this?”

“To be honest, Spence, I haven’t really been listening.”

“I meant about the case,” he chuckled.

“I’m trying not to get my hopes up. It’s been a cold case for over three decades for a reason, you know?”

“We wouldn’t be in Illinois right now if you weren’t on to something. Instincts exist for a reason, and your instincts are usually right.”

You fiddled with the air conditioning vents absentmindedly, “I don’t want to dredge up old wounds for the family and the town unless I’m absolutely certain I can bring some closure to them as well. The detective is the only person who knows we’re coming. I don’t want to start interviewing witnesses until I know I can do something to help.”

Spencer nodded, “I’ll follow your lead, you just tell me what you need.”

You spent the rest of the time discussing the details of the case, Spencer looking over the file again while you navigated to the police office. Having Spencer with you made you feel a lot better. You knew the case front to back, but this was your first time leading an investigation and you didn’t want to accidentally miss something in the file out of nervousness. Spencer’s eidetic memory and genius brain would keep you on track and ask you questions you knew would only help you in the grand scheme of things. Spencer was also your best friend, your biggest supporter. Any considerations he had would always come from a place of love and mutual respect.

When you arrived at the police station it was late in the evening, but the detective was waiting for you. He was an older man, tall and mostly bald.

“Hi, you must be Agent (y/l/n). Nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Detective Reeves, nice to finally meet you, too. This is my partner, Doctor Reid.” Spencer brought a hand up to wave. “Thanks for letting us take a look at this.”

“Thanks for making the drive out here. This case…” he sighed, “Mia-Rose went missing two months after I started this job and I’ve been hunting her killer ever since. It’s been thirty two years, a fresh pair of eyes will do this case good. It’ll do the whole town good if you can see somethin’ I haven’t.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” you said, not wanting to promise any results to him. “Is there a room we can set up in?”

“I’ve brought all of the evidence to our conference room. Use it for as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” you took off to the door that he had pointed at, Spencer on your heels. He shut the door behind you, dropping his bag on a chair while you picked up examination gloves.

The next few hours were spent meticulously going over the evidence that had been collected. You occasionally made comments to Spencer about where the item had come from and any notes that had already been documented about it.

The clock had just passed midnight when you were ready to move on to the next part of your investigation. You wanted to walk the dumpsite, but it would be useless to go while it was still dark. Instead, you retreated to a small motel at Spencer’s insistence that you needed sleep.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to shut my brain off enough to actually sleep,” you confessed once you were wearing sweatpants and leaning up against the headboard of the bed.

Spencer wandered out of the bathroom, giving you the softest look as he sat down next to you.

“What are you thinking about the most?”

“The evidence told me exactly what I thought it would, but I can’t build a decent mental picture of what happened until I see the dump site. What if I get there and it still doesn’t make sense? What if I’m in too deep on this one, Spence?”

“This case has been cold for thirty years, it can wait one more night. You are an incredible FBI agent. You’re an incredible human, at that. I know you can handle this, and Hotch knows you can handle this, too. If you aren’t able to solve it, you’re not letting anyone down. It’s been a cold case for a reason, I’m sure you’ll solve the next one.”

“Logically I know you’re right, but that isn’t making sleep happen any easier,” you sighed, sinking down onto a pillow. You could tell from Spencer’s expression that he had an idea when he reached up, turning off the lamp beside him and laying down next to you in the dark.

“This is called Image Distraction, all you have to do is close your eyes, try to relax, and listen to my voice.”

“Are you hypnotizing me?” you giggled into the darkness, feeling like a small kid at a sleepover with their best friend.

“No, it’s just a strategy to help you fall asleep. I’m going to describe a scene to you and the idea is that it takes up enough space in your brain to prevent you from re-engaging with other thoughts. Hypnosis doesn’t actually put you to sleep, just in a trance that seems like you’re sleeping. It’s been proven to help change habits and thoughts around sleeping though. There was a study done in 2010-”

“Is that what I’m supposed to be picturing? I’m seeing dudes in lab coats and creepy hospital walls.”

You felt the mattress shake next to you as Spencer laughed.

“No, that wasn’t it. I’m going to start now, picture a waterfall. As you walk closer it gets louder, pounding onto the rocks below it and spraying a mist into the air. The droplets of water stick to your face. You can see a rainbow that touches the pool at the base of the waterfall. The plants growing around the pool of water are greener than emeralds, bright and shining in the sun…”

That was the last thing you remembered him saying before succumbing to sleep. You had a very vivid dream while you were sleeping, not uncommon for someone in your field, but it wasn’t one you had had before.

There was a teenage girl walking in front of you down a long hallway. You instantly recognized her as Mia-Rose. She turned around every so often, beckoning you to come closer, but no matter how fast you tried to move your feet it was impossible for you to catch up. The hallway was familiar, you realized it was one in Quantico that you walked down every day to get to the elevator. It took longer than normal to reach the end, and just when you thought you could catch up to Mia-Rose, Hotch stepped out in front of you, holding Spencer with one arm and holding his gun to your best friend’s temple with the other.

“You have to choose, (y/n).”

“Choose what?”

“One of them has to die. Him or her?” he moved his gun to point the barrel at Mia-Rose.

“I don’t understand, why can’t I save them both?”

“One of them has to die.”

It only took you a moment to consider, “me. Shoot me. Let them live.”

“Brave choice,” Hotch’s gun came to point at you and his finger squeezed the trigger.

You woke up.

Soft morning light was coming in through the window and Spencer was already awake, quietly tying his tie while perched on the edge of the bed.

“Morning,” he grinned when he noticed you watching him.

“Morning,” you panted, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“You were dreaming.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hotch made me choose between him shooting Mia-Rose or shooting you.”

“What did you choose?”

“I made him shoot me instead.”

You expected Spencer to launch into an analysis of your dream and what it meant, but instead he asked another question, changing the subject.

“Can we stop for coffee before we walk the dumpsite?” he pulled a blue cardigan out from his go bag and stuck his arms through the sleeves.

“Sure,” you said, stretching as you stood up. While you got ready, Spencer found the nearest place to get coffee, and you stopped there before continuing on to the bridge where Mia-Rose’s body had been found thirty years ago.

“I’m too used to walking active crime scenes,” you murmured when you pulled over to the empty dumpsite. Normally dumpsites like this were taped off with officers present, as well as some news reporters and civilian gawkers. You were sure that it had looked like that when the crime had first happened, but now it was just a bridge that nobody thought about.

When you stepped out of the SUV you noticed a small memorial for Mia-Rose nailed to a tree, wilted and weathered flowers around it. You stopped for a minute to look at it, then continued through the brush to the overpass.

Mia-Rose had fallen off of the bridge onto the ground beneath, where you were standing now. Her death was originally ruled a suicide, which had slowed the investigation until her parents insisted she wasn’t suicidal and had her autopsied, revealing ligature marks and evidence of assault. Just from reading the file, you knew that her parents were right. She didn’t profile as suicidal, and if she was she could have jumped from further down the bridge into the flowing river to your right, not onto the ground where she likely would have survived.

“Mia-Rose was found right here,” you pointed, “and her belongings…” you turned to your left, Spencer moving from behind you to stand where the girl’s school backpack and shoes had been found, a handful of yards away.

“They were found next to this rock.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said, facing him from where you stood, “the ME found traces of motor oil on her skin, so she must have been transported in a car. That means the unsub was driving on this road, stopped here by the bridge, then tossed her over the side. Why not just toss her stuff after her?” After thinking in silence for a minute, you started moving. “Stay where you are,” you instructed Spencer as you climbed the embankment. Once you reached the bridge, you stood on the edge so you could see both locations of dump sites.

“Spence,” you called to him, “how long is the average car?”

“Anywhere between 10 and 18 feet, depending on the size of the vehicle,” he answered quickly. You positioned yourself in line with where Mia-Rose’s body was found, then paced out roughly fifteen feet, landing you almost squarely in line with where Spencer was standing down the hill.

“What are you thinking?”

“This might sound kind of out there, but what if there was a partner?”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out how you had gotten there. He climbed up to where you were standing before asking you about it, “what makes you think that?”

“Eyewitness accounts said they saw Mia-Rose in a car with a man the night she went missing, and they were both sitting in the front of the car, but that’s about all anyone can agree on. What if there was a second unsub sitting in the back? If I’m the unsub getting Mia-Rose out of the front, you’re taking her stuff out of the trunk and tossing it over the side,” you acted out.

“Which means my DNA should be on her belongings,” Spencer concluded, finishing your thought, “I’ll call the lab and start getting things processed.”

“Good idea, I’m going to call Garcia and then we can head back to the station,” you said, pulling out your own phone as Spencer took a step away to make his call.

“Crimefighter! What have you’ve got?” Garcia answered her phone quickly.

“Hey Penelope, can you go through the list of Mia-Rose’s family members and get me some updated contact info?”

“Of course! Did you get a lead? I knew you could solve this,” she rambled. You could hear the clicking of her keyboard as she multitasked.

“Not quite, just a better understanding of the situation. I want to start interviewing family members to really nail down victimology and see if they know of anyone who fits my profile. Spencer’s calling the lab to get some evidence re-examined. When they send you results can you run them through CODIS?”

“Absolutely. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now, thanks Garcia.”

“Anytime, my love. I just sent the updated contacts to your tablet. Garcia out!”

Spencer was waiting for you in the SUV, once you finished your call with Garcia you drove back to the station. Detective Reeves assigned an officer to help you call the family members and invite them in for interviews.

“Mrs. Horn, thank you for coming in to talk with us,” you said gently to the elderly woman sitting across from you.

“Anything to help you find my little girl’s killer. Do you really think you can solve it?”

“We’re trying our best. Any information you can give us will make our job easier. Mia-Rose was walking home from school when she went missing, and was later seen getting into a blue car. Is there anyone she would have willingly accepted a ride home from?”

“No, she always walked, rain or shine so she could say hello to the neighbors on her way home. Except for Tuesdays, my brother Dylan would drive her home from band practice on Tuesdays because it was after dark.”

You exchanged a glance with Spencer, silently acknowledging that Mia-Rose was abducted on a Friday.

“Did she have any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt her, bullies or friends she might have had a falling out with?”

“No, she was sweet to everyone. That’s why it was such a shock to the town when she was killed. There wasn’t a soul who hadn’t been touched by her kindness.” Mrs. Horn spoke so highly of her daughter, further validating your theory.

“Let’s take a break,” you said, noting the way she was tearing up, “excuse us.” You stepped out of the room with Spencer.

“We should talk to Dylan,” he said once you were out of earshot of Mrs. Horn.

“I agree. He was interrogated by police when Mia-Rose first went missing, but I don’t think he’s a suspect. His alibi was rock solid, but he might know something about what happened.”

You had the detective bring in Mrs. Horn’s brother, Dylan Godfrey. While he agreed to an interview, he was much less cooperative than Mrs. Horn.

“I told the police thirty years ago, I had nothing to do with it,” he drawled, “I was at home with my wife, God rest her soul. I didn’t even have my car to kidnap Mia if I wanted to.”

“Where was your car?” Spencer asked quickly.

“My boy had it, out with his friends. He had just gotten his driver’s license. You know how kids are, impossible to control.”

This was the first you were hearing of his son. Nowhere in the records from the original investigation did it say Dylan Godfrey had a son, let alone a son who’s whereabouts were unknown on the night of the crime.

“Mr. Godfrey, let me ask you this. How old was your son the year Mia-Rose was murdered?”

“Eighteen.”

“Do you know where he was that night?”

“Out, like I said. He didn’t come home until after two o’clock in the morning.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Last I knew he was working on a farm just out of town, the McGilroy’s place.”

As soon as Spencer had gotten the information out of him, you were firing off texts to Garcia. She sent you the address of the farm, and you called her once you were en route.

“You’re on speaker, Garcia. What have you found about this guy and why didn’t we know about him before?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question. He wasn’t included in any of the original witness statements. I’ve barely been able to find information about him online. I know he’s still alive because I don’t have a death certificate, but other than that no home address, no phone number, no nothing. Everything I know about him is from his childhood, before Mia-Rose went missing.”

“Something is better than nothing, what did you find?”

“Daniel Godfrey, born in 1965 to Mary and Dylan Godfrey. He was a decent kid from what I can tell. He got good grades in school, even got a scholarship to a college in Chicago but he turned it down at the last minute. I’ll hit you back if I figure out why.”

“Thanks Garcia,” you chirped before she hung up. You pulled up the long dirt drive of the McGilroy’s farm, putting the SUV in park and getting out. Spencer was by your side in an instant, you noticed the way his hand rested on his revolver.

“My goal is to get him in for a voluntary interview. If we can get him talking, we can figure out what happened that night and why his known locations on that night fit our timeline. Best case, we get a confession and the name of his partner, worst case, he had nothing to do with it and we’re back where we started.”

Spencer nodded, so you reached up to knock on the door. After a moment, a blonde woman opened the door.

You flashed your credentials, “hi, I’m SSA (y/l/n) with the FBI, we’re looking for Daniel Godfrey and we were told he might be here.”

“He’s out back in the barn,” she said, pointing down a gravel path.

“Thanks so much,” Spencer said as you stepped off the porch. You reached the barn and pushed open the large door, revealing a man inside. He was carrying a bucket of water that he poured into a trough for a horse before acknowledging you.

“What can I do ya for?”

“Are you Daniel Godfrey?” you asked.

“Depend’s who’s asking,” he chuffed, wiping his hands on his dirty coveralls. You held up your credentials.

“I’m Agent (y/l/n) and this is Doctor Reid. We’re with the FBI investigating the murder of your cousin, Mia-Rose Horn. We were hoping you’d come in to the station so we could get some more information about her.”

“What kinda information? Mia’s been dead a long time now.”

You had to play this carefully, one wrong word and he wouldn’t voluntarily interview with you, “your father told us you were out with friends the night she disappeared. We were hoping you could tell us what town was like that night and if you saw anything unusual.”

“You talked to my father? I can tell ya right now, it was quiet. Just like any other night in this town.”

“Great, that’s exactly the kind of information we’re looking for. Would you be able to come with us to the station so we can get that statement through the official channels? While we’re there I’d like to ask you a few more questions, if that’s ok.”

“Are ya saying I’m being arrested?”

“No, not at all. This is completely voluntary.”

Daniel fell silent, considering your offer. When he finally spoke again it was gruff and hostile, “will my old man still be there?”

You exchanged a glance with Spencer, hoping he had a better read on what answer would be your best choice. Spencer’s tongue flickered over his lips, then he cautioned a response, “he’s there right now, will that be a problem?”

Daniel looked dejected, scuffing his feet in the hay below his boots, “not unless he makes it a problem.”

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Our car is out front, is there anything you need to do before we go?”

Daniel shook his head and quietly followed you and Spencer back to the SUV. He didn’t say much while you were driving back to the police station, and neither did you. You escorted Daniel inside the station, walking quickly past where his father was sitting, still talking to the officer Reeves had assigned to your case. Dylan stood up when he noticed his son, but Daniel just kept his head down and quickened his pace. You brought him to an interrogation room, a small space with just a table and a couple of chairs.

“You can wait here, we just have to go collect some materials and then we’ll be back, alright?”

“Whatever,” Daniel said, taking the seat closest to the door. You stepped out, shutting the door behind you.

“Did you see the way Dylan reacted when he saw Daniel?” you asked Spencer quietly. He nodded.

“Did you see the way Daniel reacted when he saw Dylan?”

“Do you think it’s relevant to this case? I don’t want to waste time asking about it if it’s just some squabble they had once. Hotch said I could only work this case until we got an active one back at Quantico, and you and I both know serial killers don’t take extended vacations.”

Spencer considered the situation, you could almost see the gears turning in his mind, “it might be a way we can get him comfortable talking to us, irrelevant or not. This is the best lead we have. Just like you said earlier, you have to get him talking.”

You trusted Spencer’s opinion, not just because he was your best friend, but because he had led his fair share of interrogations during his time in the FBI. He was really good at it, his accelerated mind picking up patterns of words and behaviors that you could only be envious of.

“What do you mean ‘I’ have to get him talking? I thought this was a team effort.”

“It is, but you have to lead this interrogation.”

You weren’t surprised at his statement, but you resented the fact that he was right. Your favorite part of your job was the quick thinking, the on-the-fly deductions you had to make in the field that helped you put all of the clues together. You liked helping people and actively putting bad guys away for the greater good of the country you served. You were good at your job, too, having spent so much time developing your skills with arguably some of the best agents in the Bureau. You couldn’t not be good at your job surrounded by minds like the ones at the BAU.

Like everyone though, there were some aspects of your career that you were better at than others. You usually excelled in the takedown and arrests of suspects and left the mind games to your colleagues that were much better equipped to handle them. Sure, you could talk a suspect into putting their weapon down instead of pointing it at you or a victim, but that was a heat of the moment interaction. Cool, collected interrogation rooms just weren’t your strong suit, and nothing during your time at the BAU so far had changed it.

“You really think I can do this?”

“Absolutely. You have the skills, knowledge, and rapport to conduct this interview,” Spencer showed no hesitation in his answer.

“Promise to let me know if I’m going down the wrong rabbit hole?”

Spencer smiled, “of course. Let’s go solve this case.” He handed you a sheet of paper, a form for Daniel to sign with his Miranda rights on it.

Once you were seated across from Daniel, you handed him the paper and read him his rights.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Daniel, what happened between you and your father?”

Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked back and forth between you and Spencer, “what kind of FBI agents are you?”

“We’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia. We use psychology to solve crimes. I hope my question wasn’t intrusive, Doctor Reid and I both just noticed the way your behavior changed when you saw your father. He’s been helpful in our investigation and I don’t want any family conflicts to interfere if you’re going to help us too.”

“We had a disagreement.”

“Just a disagreement?” you pressed carefully.

“Just a disagreement.”

“Alright,” you said, deciding to leave it at that and move on. He was giving you too much resistance for the direction you had wanted to take the conversation, so you changed the subject. If his disagreement with his father was relevant to the case, you’d have to get that information out of him another way.

You started off by asking about Mia-Rose and gathering any information Daniel had about her. At first he was reluctant, just explaining that they saw each other during family gatherings and when his father would drive them both home from band practice.

“You went to the same high school then, if you were in band together?”

“Uh huh. It’s a small town, everyone goes to the same school.”

“Can you tell us about who Mia-Rose spent time with? Who were her friends?”

“Everyone was her friend. She was the friendliest kid in school.”

“Who were your friends?” Spencer asked, tilting his head. It wasn’t a question you had thought to ask, but as soon as he did you saw where he was going.

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” Spencer answered.

“Alec Krause, Markus Sparrow, Nicolas Rush,” Daniel listed.

“Where are they now?” you asked while Spencer pulled out his phone, presumably to text Garcia for a background check, “are you still in contact with them?”

“They all moved out of town for college. Haven’t seen or talked to ‘em since,” Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“You were supposed to go to college, in Chicago, right?” you prompted. Daniel’s eyes flickered between you and Spencer, probably wondering how much about him you knew.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Got a job at the farm,” he shrugged.

“Daniel, I’m going to be real with you,” you squared up, “I’ve seen plenty of small towns in this job. I’ve talked to many people from small towns just like this one, and almost all of them in your position would have taken the out. They would have moved to the city as soon as they got the chance, so why didn’t you? Why did you choose to stay in this town?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Daniel was quick to correct you.

“You didn’t?” Now you were on to something.

“The disagreement I had with my father was about me leaving. He wouldn’t let me leave, so he got me the job at the farm.”

“Alright, let’s take a break,” you said, standing up and stepping out of the room. Spencer exchanged a few words with Daniel, then followed you out.

“That was big,” you panted, trying to shake out the jump of adrenaline that you were feeling.

“You’re doing great,” Spencer confirmed.

“When Dylan was talking about his son earlier, during his interview, it seemed like he didn’t have control over Daniel. What was it he said, ‘you know how kids are’? Something must have changed to make Daniel listen to his father telling him to stay, something that changed after Mia-Rose was murdered.”

Right before you were going to go back into the interrogation room, your phone rang. Hotch’s name lit up the screen.

“Hold on, Spence. (y/l/n),” you answered, praying that Hotch wasn’t going to tell you to abandon the case and get back to Quantico right when you were making strides.

“I’m just checking in to see how things are going.”

“We’re talking to a person of interest right now, it’s just very slow going. We think he had been working with a partner when the murder took place, but he’s not giving up names,” you explained, “please don’t tell me we have a case that we have to come back for, we just got a break that might open this case up for us.”

Hotch chuckled on the other end of the line, “no, we don’t have a case. Garcia told me you had a lead and I was curious.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how you were a prosecutor before joining the BAU. This is exhausting, and every time I say something I feel like he’s going to invoke.”

“You’re doing fine,” Spencer whispered reassuringly.

“Spencer says I’m doing fine,” you relayed to Hotch.

“I’m sure you are. Sometimes unsubs like this take time to crack,” he reminded you.

“It’s already been thirty years, I’d like to close it now,” you decided, squaring your shoulders. “I’m going to go back in there and wrap this up. I’ll call you back when we’re done.” You hung up with Hotch, then turned to Spencer. “Let’s do this.”

Daniel seemed to tense up when you walked back in, sitting down across the table from him once again.

“Thanks for being patient, Daniel. I’d like to know why your father wouldn’t let you leave town. From what he told us, he gave you a lot of freedom in high school. What happened?”

“We had a disagreement, like I said.”

“Right, we’ve covered that. It must have been hard going from being able to do whatever you wanted to working a farm job under your father’s thumb. I was hoping you could tell us exactly what kind of disagreement. Was it because Mia-Rose was murdered?” Daniel nodded, “ok, that’s a start. Was there a specific reason beyond Mia-Rose’s murder?”

Your tactic was deliberate, validating his feelings before pressing harder in hopes that he would give something up.

“He didn’t want me getting into more trouble.”

“More trouble? As in, you got into trouble here first?”

“Correct.”

“We don’t have any police records for you, Mr. Godfrey. Usually that’s the kind of ‘trouble’ that stops kids from going to college,” Spencer chimed in.

“The police don’t know I was there.”

“Where?” Your question was burning hot, and you watched Daniel squirm as he realized he had dug himself into a hole.

“I was in the car.”

“Which car?” you hoped he meant the car you thought he did, but you needed a true confession.

“My father’s car…” you chose not to say anything and instead let him sit in uncomfortable silence, “the night Mia was killed.”

“With her? Was Mia in the car with you?”

“Yes, she was.”

You had to maintain your composure, even though your insides were doing cartwheels out of excitement. This was exactly the kind of lead you were looking for, you couldn’t blow it now.

“Your father said you were out with friends, were any of the people you mentioned earlier with you? Alec, Markus, and Nicholas?”

“No, it wasn’t with them.”

“Who else was in the car then, Daniel? It wasn’t just you and Mia-Rose.”

“I don’t remember,” he started backpedaling, a clear sign that you were closing in.

“We’re going to step out and give you some time to think about it, see if you can try to remember,” Spencer interrupted before you could say anything, nodding towards the door when you made eye contact with him. You followed him out, turning to him abruptly once the door was shut behind you.

“I was getting somewhere with him.” You were fired up, to say the least. Now that you were in the comfortable privacy of Spencer’s company, you could let your emotions come forward.

“I know, I know,” Spencer smirked, “Garcia got a hit with Daniel’s friends, we should call and see what she has so we have more leverage when we go back in there.”

You took a deep breath, pulling out your phone and calling Garcia.

“Boy Wonder got my text!” she answered after the first ring.

“What did you find, Garcia? We’re really making strides here and anything you’ve got could really close this for us.”

“I ran the names of Daniel’s friends, like you asked. Almost all of them checked out, normal guys with normal lives.”

“Almost all of them?” you caught the specificity of her words.

“Right. One of them, Markus, he checks out too… but his brother, oh my his brother has done some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Spencer asked, brows furrowed in thought.

“Kyle Sparrow. When he was 11 he attempted to rob a bank, and not just as a joke. When he was 14 he was suspended from school after locking students in storage closets. He’s been in and out of jail his whole adult life. He got out a year ago and hasn’t been back since.”

“That fits our profile. How old was he when Mia-Rose was killed?” Spencer followed up.

“That’s where things get weird, I was hoping you guys would have a good explanation because this really doesn’t make sense.”

“Garcia,” you called, refocusing her.

“Right. Kyle Sparrow was 10 years old when Mia-Rose was murdered.”

“What?” you whipped around to look at Spencer incredulously, hoping he would have some kind of information about child serial killers that would clarify the situation. Instead, he just frowned and shook his head. You had to decide if it was worth bringing up to Daniel and risk wasting precious time. You considered for a moment, then spoke. “Send us his address, we’re going to ask Daniel about him. If he seems like a viable lead then we’ll head out there. Thanks Garcia.”

“Done and done. You’ve got this, crimefighters!”

“Are you ready to go back in there?” Spencer asked when you reached for the interrogation room door handle.

“Do I have a choice? This case just took a turn that I wasn’t expecting.”

“It’s been four hours and thirty six minutes. We can take another minute to get coffee if you need a longer break,” he suggested.

“I’m too close to cracking this. I can feel it,” you confessed. Spencer nodded, acknowledging that your gut feelings were usually right. You opened the door, sitting back down across from Daniel. Spencer stood in the corner behind you, hands in his pockets.

“Did you remember who was in the car with you the night Mia-Rose was murdered?” Daniel shook his head. “Ok, that’s fine. I have some names that we’ve collected as people of interest for this case. I’m going to read them off and you tell me if one sounds familiar, ok?” Daniel nodded, so you opened your file and pulled out a blank piece of paper, holding it so Daniel couldn’t see the lack of information on your side.

“Emily Prentiss.”

He shook his head.

“Derek Morgan.”

Again, nothing.

“Penelope Garcia.”

Your list was intentional, listing people you were certain Daniel wouldn’t know so you could get a baseline for his behavior. It paid off when you listed the next name, “Kyle Sparrow.”

You could practically see Daniel tense up. Though he shook his head, his leg started bouncing nervously and his eyes were flickering frantically around the room, looking anywhere but at you and Spencer.

“Daniel,” you started, keeping your voice low, “remember when I told you Doctor Reid and I use psychology and behavior to solve crimes? You may not have noticed it, but your behavior shifted when you heard Kyle’s name. You know something about him, don’t you? Was he in the car with you that night?”

Daniel finally looked up at you, eyes watering, “I’m not a criminal.”

“I didn’t say you were. Was Kyle in the car with you the night Mia-Rose was murdered?”

“He was just a kid, my best friend’s little brother. We were out in my dad’s car, I had just gotten my license so I skipped class and took Markus and Alec for a spin around town. When I dropped them off back home Kyle said he was lookin’ to go across town to the library so I offered him a ride. I even made him sit in the back because he was still just a small kid. Then we saw Mia walking home. It always took her longer because she stopped to say hi to everyone she passed. Kyle suggested we offer her a ride too, so I did.

“It all happened so fast, first she was getting into the car and then Kyle had a knife at her throat. He told me he’d kill her if I didn’t do what he wanted. He made me drive out of town to the woods and watch as he tied her up and did horrible, horrible things to her. I didn’t even know a kid was capable of doing those things. When he was done with her he made me help put her back in the car and drive to the bridge. She wasn’t dead when he made me push her over the edge, that’s why I didn’t throw her in the river. I thought she’d survive it without Kyle knowing because he was too busy getting rid of her stuff in the trunk. He still made me drop him off at the library after, even though it was closed on account of it being real late at night, and swear that I’d never tell anyone what we did or he’d kill me too.”

“How did your father find out?” you asked.

“He found blood in the car the next morning. I told him it was from Markus, that he had gotten scratched up while we were messing around in the afternoon. He made me clean it out with bleach, told me I’d have to learn responsibility if I wanted to move out. When my auntie called him later and told him about Mia being missing, he connected the dots. He told me he didn’t want to know what I had been doing the night before, but if I tried to move away it would make me a suspect. He got me the job at the farm and I’ve been there ever since.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Daniel. We’ll tell the court how cooperative you’ve been, they might ease your sentence because of it.”

“The court? What?” Pure fear crossed Daniel’s face. It didn’t sit right with you that he had to be arrested, knowing he had been coerced into helping murder his cousin, but he had still committed a felony. You had to let the court decide his fate.

“Daniel Godfrey, you’re under arrest for accessory to the murder of Mia-Rose Horn,” Spencer moved behind Daniel, taking his hands to cuff them. As soon as he was done Daniel was passed off to an officer and you and Spencer took off, SUV keys in hand.

You sped towards the home address Garcia had sent you for Kyle Sparrow, wishing the rest of the team was there so you could split up in case he was at work. This part of your job was where you felt the most comfortable, the tactical side of an arrest that was more physical than the mind games you had just played in the interrogation room. It was just starting to rain, a light drizzle that darkened the skies as you drove to what you hoped was your final location for this case.

“Is there Kevlar in the back?” you asked, realizing you hadn’t gotten vests from the police station before you had left. Spencer turned around in his seat, checking around the vehicle.

“Nope.”

“Great,” you sighed, “let’s try not to get shot at then, alright?”

“Sounds good to me,” Spencer agreed.

You pulled up to Kyle’s house, which was more of a rundown shack on the outskirts of town. You drew your weapon as soon as your boots were on the ground, approaching the door cautiously.

“Where’s Morgan when you need him,” you mumbled, hoping you wouldn’t have to kick the door down, “Kyle Sparrow, FBI,” you announced, knocking on the door. A gunshot flew through the window next to you, shattering the glass. That was all the invitation you needed to bust open the door, but Kyle wasn’t in the room inside. You moved quickly through the maze of rooms, taking one side while Spencer took the other.

“Clear,” you called every time you ensured a room was empty. You heard Spencer clear a couple of spaces, then fall silent. You worked your way to the kitchen, finding him in a standoff with Kyle.

“I’m not going to jail again. You can’t make me,” Kyle seemed unreasonably calm, grinning slightly to himself while he pointed a pistol at Spencer.

“You’re wanted for the murder of Mia-Rose, Kyle. There’s no way to get out of this one,” you had to keep things simple for him and talk him down as quickly as possible before he shot at you again, “let’s just talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to jail for a person I killed thirty years ago.”

“There’s no other option. We know it was you, this ends here.”

“If I have to go back, it has to be for something better. You’re right, this ends here, but not because I killed Mia-Rose Horn.”

“How does it end, Kyle?” Spencer asked. You noticed the glint in Kyle’s eye, giving you a split second to push Spencer out of the way and get hit with a searing pain in your side. You heard Spencer’s revolver fire as you hit the floor.

“Get him first,” you grunted, putting a hand on your side to try to stem the bleeding. Spencer crouched next to you, worried eyes looking you over before he pulled your handcuffs out of your pocket. Your ears were ringing, but you could just make out the sounds of Spencer talking before you blacked out.

You woke up in the hospital, an all too familiar experience. Spencer was beside you, nose in a book. You weren’t sure how much he was paying attention to it though, considering the way his brows were furrowed and his fingers were tapping against the cover. He was lost in thought somewhere, you just didn’t know where.

“Spence,” you managed to croak through your dry throat. His eyes shot up from the page, lips turning up in a small smile when his gaze met yours.

“Hi,” he practically whispered.

“Is Kyle dead?”

Spencer hesitated, no doubt weighing the value of telling you the outcome now or waiting until you were better rested. He chose the former, shaking his head.

“I did what you would have done and shot him in the hip. He’s not dead, and once he’s healed he’ll go to trial. You did it, (y/n). You solved the case.”

“We solved the case. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You also wouldn’t have gotten shot.”

“So?” you shrugged, “I lived. Where’s Garcia? Usually she’s the first one at the hospital.”

Spencer’s smile returned, “she wanted to but a case came in right right after you went into surgery. She sends her love and said she’d make up for not being here when we get back to Quantico.”

“A case? We should get back to help,” though you were exhausted, you brain immediately went into profiling mode.

“No, you’re going to stay here and rest. You should be staying for longer than you’re going to, but I was able to convince your doctor that I was more than capable of making sure you got home safely.”

“I didn’t realize you were a rule-breaker,” you teased, feeling your eyelids droop.

“I’m not, I just thought you would want to go home as soon as possible. You’re not the kind of person who likes being away from their family, and we’ve already been gone three days. Staying here doing nothing, although it would be good for you, would just torment you more.”

“Thanks, Spence,” you murmured, falling back to sleep. You dozed on and off for the better part of the day, Spencer staying by your side the whole time. Towards the end of the afternoon, you woke up to his seat vacant. The immediate panic you felt was squashed by calculated thoughts, he’s probably getting food or in the bathroom. You fought to stay awake while you waited for him to come back. He surprised you by returning with someone behind him.

“Mrs. Horn wanted to talk to you, if you’re feeling up for it,” he said, resuming his position in the chair next to you. You nodded, watching the older woman enter the room from where she had been standing in the doorway.

“I wanted to thank you for finding my daughter’s killer, even though it put you in the line of danger.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” you reassured her, sitting up a little against your pillows.

“I wish her father could have been here to see it solved. He always told me not to lose faith, that a blessing would come our way. You were our blessing,” she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“I was just doing my job, I’m sorry it took so long for someone to figure this out.”

Mrs. Horn tutted, telling you she was just glad that her daughter could rest in peace now. Before she left, she made sure to tell you that if you were ever in Illinois you and Spencer were welcome to come over for dinner, and that she hoped you got better quickly so you could go help other victims.

Once she was gone, your doctor came in to follow up with you. You had been shot in the side, the bullet passing through and exiting out of your back without hitting any major organs. Spencer did most of the talking for you, asking questions you couldn’t make sense of and checking over your chart for what was probably the hundredth time that day.

“You seem to be healing well and have a… knowledgable… support system, so I’m going to clear you for discharge. If anything changes you’ll need to go into the nearest hospital, ok?”

“Yes ma’am,” you answered. A nurse came in later with your discharge papers, which you signed before Spencer helped you in a wheelchair and out to where the SUV was parked.

“Are you sure you want to drive in this rain? I can-“ you winced in pain, hand flying to your side, “I can do it if you don’t feel comfortable.” Spencer stifled a laugh, reaching his hands out to give you something to brace yourself against as you moved from the wheelchair the SUV.

“I don’t mind driving,” he said simply.

“Yes you do,” you quipped quickly, exhaling as you settled into the passenger seat.

“Ok, yes. Under normal circumstances, I do mind driving, but I think I can make an exception when my favorite driver has been shot.”

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that,” you smirked, still struggling to breathe in a way that would make your side hurt less.

“Are you warm enough?” Spencer fiddled with the heating knobs once he was settled behind the wheel. You nodded, but the shiver that ran down your body betrayed you.

“You’re the one driving. I want you to be comfortable,” you mumbled.

“You’re the one who just got shot. Here,” he reached behind him into the back where both of your go bags were stored. He unzipped his own and pulled out a cardigan, then leaned over the console to drape it across you. “The wool will help you retain heat.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, relishing in the comfort of his gesture.

“You didn’t have to take that bullet for me.”

“I did. I pulled you into this mess, I wasn’t going to let you get hurt because of it.”

“Hotch sent me with you so that you wouldn’t get yourself hurt,” he rebutted.

You brushed him off, “I’ve been shot before, I’m going to be fine.”

“I’ve also been shot before, you didn’t have to push me out of the way.”

You were quick to counter, “you didn’t have to push Blake out of the way either.”

It was an unnecessary squabble, a fact you both caught onto quickly once you realized the direction the conversation was going. Instead, Spencer changed the subject to explain the history of the small towns you were passing through on your way to the interstate.

Miraculously, once the car was comfortably cruising on the highway, Spencer fell silent. You suspected it had to do with his intense concentration on driving in the elements as the rain got harder, though he also could have been giving you the space to sleep if you needed to.

It wasn’t until you were over an hour into your journey that he spoke again, after a quick glance at you revealed fresh tear tracks down your cheeks under the passing street lights.

“(Y/n), are you crying?” His question was so soft you almost missed it, “is it the pain? You’re not due to take your meds for another three hours but I know you have ibuprofen in your bag that would be ok to take now. I can pull over-“ his hand was about to move back to the steering wheel from where it had come to rest on the console, but you reached out to grab it instead.

You and Spencer didn’t really ‘do’ physical contact. You both had reasons not to, instead finding comfort just in proximity. As long as he was around, you were happy. This time, though, it was different. Maybe it was because you were touch starved, or because you had just been poked and prodded at all angles while in the hospital. Whatever the reason, the light grip you had on Spencer’s hand to stop him from pulling over was enough to make you feel the tiniest bit better. He was there with you, he was real.

“It’s not the pain,” you managed to hold your composure, knowing that letting any kind of sob escape the confines of your soul would only physically hurt you more.

“Are you tired? I drank enough coffee to get us home by morning but if you really need to sleep we can find a hotel somewhere. There are three off the next exit.”

“Spencer,” you ran your thumb over the prominent vein in his hand, “it isn’t something you can fix.”

“What do you mean?” He was puzzled, and by the way his hands were twitching you could tell he was deciding whether or not to stop the car anyways.

“There are hundreds of thousands of cold cases. Hundreds of thousands of families that don’t have closure. Hundreds of thousands of victims that haven’t gotten justice.”

“There’s one less because of you. You made a difference to Mia-Rose’s family, you got her the justice she deserves.”

“She deserved justice thirty years ago. I feel like the system failed her, the very system I work for. She was just a kid, and the answer was right there the whole time. Why did I have to be the one to figure it out, thirty years too late?”

Spencer’s response was soft and gentle, “because you’re exceptional, (y/n).”

“I didn’t have to be exceptional to solve this case, though. That’s what I’ve learned from all of the cold case documentaries I’ve watched. The ones that get solved are because someone knew what happened and didn’t come forward about it until years later. There was a psychopathic kid on the streets for thirty years because the police didn’t think to talk to Daniel Godfrey.”

“We can’t change what happened in the past, but we can make a difference in our futures.”

“I’m just so tired, Spence. I chose this job, I love this job, but it’s exhausting.”

“Then rest, (y/n). It’s ok if the only person you save some days is yourself.”

He was right, of course. You wanted to keep saving others, but you couldn’t do that if you didn't make time to save yourself too. You finally closed your eyes and pulled his cardigan up to your chin. Though you were still conscious, limiting your sensory input helped calm you down enough that you found yourself flitting in and out of dissociation. Even when Spencer’s hand gently moved out from under yours to answer his phone, you kept your eyes closed.

“Hey JJ,” his voice was quiet, barely audible over the rain pounding against the windshield, “they’re doing ok.” He paused while he listened to JJ’s response. ���No, they keep reminding me that it’s not the first time they’ve been shot. I’m worried about them though.” He trailed off.

“They’ve been shouldering this burden of over 185,000 cold cases since we started working on this one, and now that it’s solved they’re finally feeling the weight of it. I don’t want them to drive themselves crazy trying to solve all of them on their own. We deal with enough active cases as it is.”

Though you were barely in a state of mind to process his words, he had hit the nail right on the head.

“How is the case you’re working on?” You presumed JJ was filling him in on what they knew, “have Garcia look into large purchases of triacetone triperoxide… Call me if anything changes. We should be back by morning.”

“Yes,” his change in tone indicated that JJ had asked him a question, “that would be great, JJ. Thank you so much.”

He must have hung up with JJ because his hand found yours again, fingers just barely touching. It was a simple action, loaded with a lot of meaning. Spencer was your best friend, and would always be your best friend. Bullets, cold cases, marriages, there was nothing that could break the bond you had with him.

You didn’t understand why people called their significant others their “better half”. It insinuated that you weren’t a whole person to begin with, a fractured existence that only found completion by the means of someone else. The idea that your life couldn’t be fulfilling until someone else made it whole was a concept that was set up for failure and self-loathing.

Instead, you believed that you were a whole person who could live a fulfilling life without the necessity of another. Instead, you surrounded yourself with people who lifted you up and helped you achieve your goals without being the direct cause of your success. Instead, you followed your dreams and somehow found Spencer Reid along the way.

Spencer was your best friend, your confidant, the one person who you knew you couldn’t live without, but he was not your other half. He was his own whole person, a mirror image of your own being. You found solace in his companionship, safety in the complexities of his brain. When the stress of your job got to be too much, you could reliably turn to each other and exist in the little slice of the world you called yours for a moment.

No, he was not your other half. He wasn’t even yours, for that matter, but he was there. He was there in a capacity that nobody else could achieve.

This is part of my GALAXY universe! If you liked this relationship, check out the MASTERLIST for more content!

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[440mxs-wife]

Coming Home

(photo courtesy of IMDb)

Pairing: Leonard “Bones” McCoy x Reader. Other Characters: Captain Jim Kirk, Sulu, Uhura, Spock, Scotty, Nurse Chapel, Joanna McCoy and Jocelyn McCoy

Word Count: 6594

Warnings: A bit of angst as there usually is with exes, medical incident, topped off with fluff and a little implied smut.

Prompt: “Did you ever plan on telling me?”

Summary: Reader left Dr. McCoy and the Enterprise eight years ago for reasons unknown. Captain Kirk has decided to get her to come back, so he offers her a position in the ship’s Botany Department and Lab. How will her ex-boyfriend and CMO Dr. McCoy react to seeing her after all these years?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Jim, I just don't think it's a good idea," you told him, shaking your head. Captain James T Kirk was in your apartment, trying to convince you to rejoin him on the USS Enterprise.

"Why not? It's been, what, eight years now? Surely he's forgiven you by now," Kirk replied.

"Even if he has, which I doubt, I haven't forgiven me yet. We haven't even spoken since I left. No, I can't come back, Jim. You need things to run smoothly on that ship of yours. I would only upset the applecart," you affirmed.

"Please? You're the best botanist in Starfleet, and we really need you. Sulu can bring you up to speed on all of his latest findings with the plants we've catalogued in the past few years. Besides, there are others who would be happy to see you return to the ship," Kirk pressed.

You bit your bottom lip in concentration. Jim could tell you were close to cracking under his persuasive argument. You missed your 'girl talk' sessions with Uhura, even though monthly subspace messages have kept you in touch. They just haven't been the same as being together in person. If you came back, you might even start a lively discussion with Spock on Vulcan vs. Human philosophy.

If you went back, you know Jim would make your return as smooth as possible. He was right, that others would be happy to see you again. However, there was at least one crew member that you were fairly certain would not share in everyone's enthusiasm at seeing you back on the Enterprise.

Dr. Leonard. McCoy.

The two of you had been in a relationship for about four years prior to your departure. You shared the same quarters, during which time you were blissfully happy and in love. Leonard was the light of your life, and you saw him in every scenario in your future. Marriage, family, retirement from active duty, maybe eventually a house somewhere.

All of that came crashing down the night of his daughter's birthday party, when Joanna was turning 13. Two weeks after it happened and without explanation, you left Leonard and the Enterprise.

You had no intention of ever returning to the ship. You were content in your teaching position at Starfleet HQ and to stay at home, maintaining your garden. That is, until a blonde-haired, blue-eyed captain came knocking on your door, asking you to come back.

"So?" Kirk asked.

"I'll need to pack a few things, make some arrangements," you sighed.

"Ship leaves here in five days, will that be enough time?" Kirk inquired.

"I suppose it'll have to be, won't it. You're not exactly leaving me with much choice," you retorted. "Don't worry, Jim. I'll be there, ready to assist you however I can," you promised. I just don't know if I'm ready to face him again, not after all these years that have gone by, you thought to yourself.

As if he heard you, Jim nudged your arm. "Maybe this is just the opportunity you two need, you know, to clear the air. Much as you may not think so, the two of you belong together," Jim concluded softly.

"I have a feeling that one way or another, the situation between Len and me will soon be resolved," you replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When you re-materialized on the transporter pad, you were surprised to see so many of your friends waiting to welcome you back. Sulu, Chekhov, Scotty, Uhura and even Spock had made the trip down to Transporter Room #3, along with the captain to await your return. The only one absent was Dr. McCoy, but you didn't expect him to show up. Not willingly anyway.

You stepped down from the transporter pad and were immediately engulfed in Uhura's embrace. She rambled on about when the first 'girl talk' night should be while you traded hugs with Sulu and Chekhov.

"Hello, Commander. It is agreeable to see you again," Spock greeted you.

"It's nice to see you, too, Spock," you smiled as you pulled him into a hug before he could stop you. "Mr. Scott, always a delight," you gushed.

"Aye, lassie, it's good to have ye home again," Scotty beamed.

"Thank you. It's good to be--" your greeting was interrupted by the transporter room doors sliding open. The moment of truth had finally arrived, where the next few words spoken would set the tone for the time to come.

"God in Heaven," McCoy whispered. His mouth suddenly went dry at seeing you again after eight years. He could see that the years had been kind to you, because to him, you were even more beautiful than before. His heart did a mini-flip in his chest, but almost immediately afterwards, his brain and his memory re-engaged.

McCoy coughed and cleared his throat in an effort to regain his composure. "Commander," he said gruffly, nodding his head sharply at you. "Jim, a word please?" he asked, then turned and left the transporter room without sparing you a second glance. Tears sprang to your eyes but did not fall.

"Excuse me, everyone," Kirk replied. As he passed by you, he caught your hand and squeezed lightly. "Don't worry, remember what I said about opportunities?" he asked and you nodded. "Don't waste 'em," he said with a wink.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"How could you do this, Jim? How could you allow her back on board after what happened between us? The woman I love broke my heart when she left me--the ship!" McCoy thundered.

"Well, Bones, let's start with the fact that we need someone to head the Botany Department and Lab, and she's the best. Then we'll fill in the middle with how I don't think either one of us knows exactly what happened to make her leave. And we'll end with, oh, because it's my ship, I'm the captain and if I say we need her, then she re-joins the crew," Kirk concluded.

"Fine. If that will be all, Captain?" McCoy replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, Bones, that will be all," Kirk responded. McCoy turned to leave when Kirk briefly called him back. "For what it's worth, you could look at this as an opportunity to clear the air between you. At least you'd know, once and for all why she left, instead of always assuming it's your fault."

McCoy mumbled something under his breath as he walked out of the captain's Ready Room. Kirk shook his head at his CMO's antics when it came to you. He knew the two of you still loved each other, and firmly believed that you belonged together.

Kirk wished he knew what happened all those years ago to make you think your only choice was to leave your family and the man you loved. Something told him that whatever it was, it was bound to come out into the open. Hopefully when it did and the dust settled, everything would return to some semblance of normal.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first few weeks aboard ship were a bit awkward. You were trying to get used to a working schedule again, and on top of that, trying to avoid the CMO at every turn. It didn't help that you had mutual friends who didn't hesitate to offer their advice on how to resolve things. They all swore they only wanted what was best for you and the good doctor. However, only the two of you could decide what that looked like, and at least for now, that meant avoiding each other.

One day, you were in the lab, cataloguing plant samples gathered during an away mission to Taegus-3. You made sure your team was taking extra safety precautions when handling the samples. "Be careful around these plants, some may have thorns. We also don't know yet if they're poisonous, so for now, use the bio-suits and the thick rubber gloves."

You were walking through Station #2 where a member of your team was performing tests on one of the samples. The young ensign turned away from her station, while you made notes on your clipboard about the plant she was working with.

As you were asking her some questions about her work, you felt something snaking its way around your exposed forearm. By the time you realized what was happening, the plant had started to apply pressure to your now vine-wrapped arm. Sulu heard the commotion and rushed over with a knife, which he then used to cut the vine from your arm. The vine fell away, but left red burn marks in your arm wherever the vine had come into contact with the skin.

"You'd better head down to the MedBay and have someone take a look at that," Sulu advised.

You looked at Sulu like you'd rather have the vine back on your arm, squeezing the life out of it until it snapped off than deal with Dr. McCoy. Eventually you relented and left the lab to get yourself checked out in the MedBay. You only hoped that it was Dr. McCoy's day off, because you didn't think you could deal with him at the moment.

Unfortunately, luck was not to be on your side today. Nurse Chapel called for him as soon as she saw you walk in the door. She had you sit on the biobed and started to check your vital signs. While she was discussing them with Dr. McCoy, a wave of dizziness crashed over you. It was also getting harder to breathe, which was detected by the biobed and it started sending out alarms.

McCoy and Nurse Chapel came racing over to you. "Damn plant must give off some sort of toxin when it wraps around its victims. Hold on, sweetheart, stay with me. We'll get you taken care of, don't you worry," he soothed.

As comforting as his words were, you knew he was in 'doctor mode'. It came naturally to him to use soft terms like 'sweetheart' to put his patients at ease. You knew those words didn't hold any affection towards you anymore like they used to. Whatever feelings may have been implied towards you by his words were likely to be a thing of the past.

"Hold still now, we're going to give you something to counteract the toxin," McCoy explained. He attached a hypospray to your neck and pressed the button to release the medication. Almost immediately, your breathing became easier and the dizziness slowly dissipated. In the meantime, he took the opportunity to bandage the vein-like burns in your forearm.

Once your condition seemed to be stabilized, all you could think of was to get out of the MedBay and back to your quarters. You eased yourself down from the biobed and took a few tentative steps towards the door.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, where do you think you're going?" McCoy demanded.

"Back to my quarters, Dr. McCoy. I thank you and Nurse Chapel for your assistance, but I can take care of myself from here. I hereby relieve you of your obligation to monitor my health any further," you retorted.

"I really don't think that's a good idea, sweetheart," he replied. "You could have a relapse, or develop a complication, or--" he started.

"DON'T. You don't get to call me 'sweetheart', or 'darlin', or anything that would indicate you remotely have any feelings of affection for me anymore," you shot back. Tears began prickling at your eyes, threatening to fall. "Ever since I got here, you've been avoiding me. In the mess hall, the rec area, even the turbolift for goodness' sake," you explained.

"Me?!? As far as I see it, Commander, it's been mutual avoidance. This is as much interaction as I've had with you since the day I saw you in Transporter Room #3. So, don't pin all of this on me," he snapped.

"I'm pretty sure you're not happy that I'm here, so I figured I'd stay out of your way as much as possible. To that end, I'm leaving and going back to my quarters," you informed him calmly.

"Yeah, that's right, I almost forgot. Leaving, that is what you do best, isn't it?" McCoy sneered.

You stopped walking towards the door, overcome by a sob too painful to hold in anymore. After taking a deep breath, you turned your tear-stained face to Dr. McCoy. "I suppose you're right. I've had that coming to me for the last eight years, haven't I?" you asked tearfully. You turned back towards the doors then left the MedBay and headed straight for your quarters.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After you left, McCoy stood there, with his hands on his hips and shaking his head. He wondered how the situation with you ever got to this point. He remembered how much in love the two of you were, sharing quarters, intertwining lives. For him, you were his whole world, the one he saw his future unfolding with. You loved him despite his flaws and the fact that he constantly thought that he didn't deserve you.

Your mutual friends were rooting for you both, and Joanna loved you as well. The two of you got along well, no hint of jealousy from her when it came to spending time with her father. He remembered how flattered you were when Joanna had once asked for your advice on something.

Jocelyn didn't seem to like you, but then again, she didn't love much of anything to do with him, except Joanna. On more than a few occasions, he'd heard Jocelyn throw snide remarks your way. But as was your nature, you took the high road, and Leonard felt you had handled his ex-wife with grace.

Then came Joanna's birthday party. He'd seen you and Jocelyn talking about something, then when you left her, you looked a little shaken up. McCoy didn't think much of it at the time, but you seemed a little distracted after the encounter. He tried to get you to talk to him about it, however, you assured him that you were tired and just needed some rest to feel better.

Two weeks after the party, without any prior discussion, you had left the Enterprise for a teaching position. Just like that, you were gone from his life, but not remotely gone from his heart. He'd met other women over the past eight years, but none of them could ever hold a candle to you. And deep down, Leonard McCoy knew that no one else ever would.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back in your quarters, you went straight for the bathroom to splash water on your face as a way to calm down. How dare he! you thought. You had stayed away from him because you thought that's what he wanted. After all it was you who left him. Even though in your mind you knew it was for a good reason, there were still at least two broken hearts at the end of it.

You suddenly remembered what day it was, so you finished drying off your face with a towel. Today was Joanna McCoy's birthday, and she was turning 21, an important milestone. You hoped she was available to take your call, but if not, you would leave a birthday message for her.

Despite no longer being together with her father, you still kept in touch with Joanna over the years. She was a ray of sunshine in Leonard's life, and in yours as well. The last you had heard, she was participating in Starfleet's medical program, thus following in her father's footsteps.

You opened up the comms to send your message request to Joanna. A minute or so later, your video screen lit up with her smiling face and frantic waving at the camera. "Happy Birthday, Joanna!" you grinned.

"Thank you! It's so good to hear from you," she exclaimed.

"I sure wish I could give you a hug for your birthday, sweetie. How's school going for you?" you asked.

She launched into a few tales from her classes, with you nodding and smiling. One of her stories had you busting out in laughter so hard that tears were coming out of your eyes. For the most part, she had achieved the right balance between school and having fun, not an easy task.

"Hey, so Uncle Jim told me you're back on the Enterprise, is that right?" Joanna asked.

"Yes, that's right. Your uncle visited me about six weeks ago and asked me to run the Botany Department and Lab. I wasn't sure about coming back, but he eventually wore me down," you gave a small smile.

"Has he....has Dad seen you? Have you talked to him?" she asked carefully.

You nodded. "I had to go to the MedBay today, due to an unfortunate encounter with a plant from Taegus-3. It wrapped around my arm and wouldn't let go. I had to get a hypo for an allergic reaction, and bandages for my arm. Your dad patched me up just right," you explained.

"Good. Um....I have to ask you something. Do you remember my 13th birthday party?" she inquired.

"Joanna....," you warned.

"Do you remember it?" she tried again. You nodded and she continued. "I know something happened there, because two weeks later, you and Dad weren't together anymore. Why? You two were so happy together, and then you left. What happened?" Joanna demanded.

"Something I can't talk about, Jo, but my leaving was for the best. The best for you and the best for your dad," you replied.

"Best?!? How could it be best for you and Dad to be without each other for this long? Didn't you love him anymore? Was it my mom? Did she say something to you at that party?" Joanna persisted.

At her question, you looked away, and you knew you'd only fueled her curiosity. "Of course I still love him. I told you Joanna, I can't talk about it. Please don't push me on this. Listen, sweetie, I have to go now, but I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Take care, honey," you said.

"But---" was the last you'd heard of her voice before you terminated the connection. In the reflection of the view screen, you could see tears sliding down your face. You decided that you needed a drink, so you left your quarters and headed for the recreation area.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Well, well, well, who do we have here?" Captain Kirk said as he saw you sitting at the bar.

You groaned at his presence, only wanting to be left alone. "Oh, god, Jim. What are YOU doing here?" you retorted.

"I heard you got hurt and went to MedBay today. Then I went by your quarters to check on you, only to find out you're not there. Figured I'd get a drink, and here you are," he replied.

"Jim, don't take this pershonally," you slurred. "But I want to be left alone. M'kay? Been a rotten day and I'm jusht done," you remarked as you drained your glass and signaled for a refill.

"What happened today?" he persisted.

"You think that just because you have that perfect hair and those bright blue eyes that I'm just gonna spill my guts?" you asked. A smirk crossed his face as he waited expectantly. "Fine. I'll tell you, you insufferable man. I called Joanna McCoy today, since it's her 21st birthday," you started.

"Thanks for the reminder, I'll have to call her later," Kirk interjected.

"Anyway, the topic of conversation got around to her 13th birthday party. She asked me why her dad and I aren't together anymore," you explained, tears threatening again.

"What did you tell her?" Kirk asked.

"I told her the same thing I'm going to tell you. I can't talk about it, but I did what I thought was best for her and for Leonard," you replied. "Now, drop it, Jim," you warned.

"Sorry, no can do. Bones and I both saw Jocelyn talking to you at the party, then the rest of the night you seemed a little upset. Don't get me wrong, you put on a brave face. You fooled most everyone, but Leonard and I knew that something wasn't right. Look, it's been eight years. Don't you think it's time to spill the beans?" Kirk wondered.

"Jim, no good can come from this. Best just to let sleeping dogs lie," you said as you tried again to shut him down.

"Please, let me in. I can see how much this is hurting you, and I think Len finally deserves to know the truth. Don't you think so?" Kirk pleaded.

A few tears had slipped down your face, and you nodded, your resolve having broken at last. "It started when I was in the kitchen putting candles on Joanna's cake. I thought I would do that to make myself useful, help Jocelyn so it was one less thing she had to worry about. Wrong move, because she read me the riot act about how it's her job to do that and I should just back off," you said.

"Ungrateful b....please go on," he prompted.

"I apologized, but she refused to accept it. Instead, she gave me an ultimatum. I had to stop seeing Leonard or she would refuse to let him see Joanna. At first, I couldn't believe she was serious, but one look in her eyes and I knew she was. That's why I was so distant the rest of the night. I tried to put Leonard off by saying I was just tired, but I don't think he was convinced," you remarked.

"Why didn't you tell Len? Or me? We would've found a way to fight this," Kirk insisted.

"I know you would have, and I love you both for it. She said if I told anyone, her next stop was the courthouse. Don't you see? She held all the cards, and I had nothing," you explained.

"You didn't have 'nothing', you had Len and me," Kirk replied.

"Think about it. If I fought her, then she took Len to court and he lost, it's my fault. If I refused to stop seeing Leonard, she would not let him see his daughter. My fault again. Either way, Jim, Leonard and Joanna lose. I couldn't bear for that to happen, so I left. As much as I loved him, and still do, his relationship with his daughter is and always will be more important," you finished. Tears were now streaming unchecked down your face.

"Whoa. I knew she was a piece of work, but I didn't know exactly how much. Bones would be livid if he found out that Jocelyn is the reason you're not together," Kirk replied.

"And that's exactly why I didn't want to tell you. Jim, please, I'm begging you. Let this go," you implored as you slid off your barstool. Jim turned to you and pulled you into his comforting embrace. "I'm going to go sleep this off, okay? I'll be taking a sick day tomorrow," you added. "Goodnight, Jim."

"Goodnight," he called after you then returned his attention to his drink.

"Poor kid. Hate to see a pretty girl cry. So, knowing you, I'd bet that you have no intention of letting this go, do you, Captain?" Tony, the bartender, asked.

"Nope," he replied, downing the rest of his drink. "I gotta find a way to make this right if it's the last thing I do. Thanks, Tony," he said before leaving to go to his quarters. Once there, he opened a comms channel to send a message to his niece. The video screen popped up with Joanna's picture.

"Uncle Jim!! So great to see you," she gushed.

"Happy Birthday, honey. Listen, I know about a conversation you had earlier, that involved a certain someone and your dad," Kirk remarked. "I finally got her to tell me what happened at your birthday party."

"She told me she couldn't tell me, but she could tell you?" Joanna asked angrily.

"Hold on there, sweetie. In her defense, she'd had a lot to drink by the time I caught up with her," Kirk explained.

"Oh. Well, I asked Mom about it, but she wouldn't tell me either. Please tell me what happened, I want to know," Joanna begged.

"Sure thing, kiddo. Then we're going to brainstorm on how to get the two of them back together," Kirk winked.

"Ooh yay! So, tell me," she persisted.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dr. McCoy trudged into his quarters and sat down on the couch. He grabbed a communication tablet and sent a signal to his daughter, to wish her a happy birthday. Unfortunately, Jocelyn picked up the tablet and answered.

"Joanna's busy right now, Leonard. Call her back later," Jocelyn replied curtly as she moved to disconnect the call.

"Wait, Jocelyn! Will you please let her know that I called to wish her a happy birthday?" McCoy asked.

"Your girlfriend already called earlier and spoke to Joanna. I just assumed you were in the room at the time," Jocelyn remarked.

"What girlfriend? I don't know what you're talking about," McCoy replied. He was starting to get an uneasy feeling the more he talked to his ex-wife.

Jocelyn made a tsking sound of disgust. "The same one that was here on Joanna's 13th--" she broke off and a smug smile crossed her face. "Never mind. I guess she took my advice then."

McCoy's face drained of color. "And just what advice was that? It's been eight years, Jocelyn, you'll have to refresh my memory," he retorted.

"What difference does it make? She must not have been as devoted to you as you were to her. She left you, therefore, you got to keep seeing your daughter," Jocelyn shot back.

The pieces started to come together in McCoy's mind, and it was showing him a pretty ugly picture. "You threatened her. Didn't you?" he seethed. "Why, Jocelyn? What has she ever done to you?" he demanded.

"Joanna called her 'Mom', that's what!" Jocelyn exclaimed. "When Joanna came home from that week-long vacation with the two of you, she was telling me about how much fun she'd had. She slipped and referred to your girlfriend as 'Mom'. I am her mother! I will not be replaced by some flavor-of-the-month!" she shrieked.

"ENOUGH, MOM!" Joanna's voice came through clearly. "Hi, Dad," she greeted McCoy.

"Hiya, pumpkin," he drawled. "Happy Birthday, sweetheart," he replied softly. "Did you know about this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at his daughter.

"Dad, nobody knew anything about it until she told Uncle Jim tonight. And he said that it was only after a lot of alcohol that she would even tell him. She's kept this horrible secret for all this time, because she wanted you to be happy and able to keep visiting me. She still loves you, Dad, I know she does. Please tell me you still love her," Joanna pleaded.

McCoy turned his face away from the view screen, but not before his daughter caught a glimpse of his watery eyes. "I never stopped loving her, Jo. Not even when she left. I was angry and hurt, but....yes, I still love her," he declared, his voice thick with emotion.

"Then you know what you have to do, Daddy. Go tell her," Joanna whispered the last part. "Consider it my birthday present," she grinned mischievously. "I love you."

"You got it, sweetheart. I'll let you know how it goes. Later, though," McCoy promised with a grin of his own. "I love you," he told her before the call disconnected.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The view screen clicked off, while McCoy digested all of the information he'd just been given. All these years, he mused. The two of you could've been happy together, maybe even engaged or married. Instead, his ex-wife and her jealousy got in the way of that with her threats of denying him visitation rights.

He'd been so wrapped up in his own emotions since you've been back, that he hadn't stopped to consider how you may be feeling. He had been convinced that the reason you left was because you didn't love him anymore. Now he knew that the exact opposite was true. You loved him so much that you sacrificed your own happiness with him so he could continue to see his daughter.

Leonard knew that he had to make things right between you. It couldn't have been easy to come back to work on the Enterprise, knowing at any moment you could run into each other. But, you pushed those feelings and worries aside to help Jim by running the Botany Department and Lab.

He had to admit, it's been awkward since you've been back. He didn't expect the old feelings of love to come rushing back at the first sight of you that day in Transporter Room #3. As much as your leaving had hurt him and the radio silence throughout the years, he still loved you. And now, he grinned to himself, it was time to do something about it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You left the rec area and had gone back to your quarters for the night. When you got back, you changed out of your uniform and put on your pink plaid pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt. You made sure it was short-sleeved because of the bandages on your arm from the Strangling Vine Incident earlier in the day. After grabbing a glass of water and two pain meds, you settled into place on the couch. "Computer, illumination at 30% please," you requested.

What a day. First you were attacked by an alien vine, forcing you to get checked out in the MedBay by your ex-boyfriend and CMO. Later, you couldn't even find peace in the rec area. The CMO's best friend and captain of the ship kept hounding you about something that took place eight years ago. You'd told him to drop it, but he refused until you spilled that horrible secret.

Now Jim knows, but knowing about it didn't change anything. No matter how much you still loved him, Leonard surely didn't love you anymore. He'd made that quite clear today with his parting remark as you left the MedBay. You continued to sip at your water, each tilt of the glass with a shakier hand than before.

Off in the distance you heard your door chime, indicating someone at your door. "Come in," you called. You were shocked to see Dr. McCoy walk in. "Excuse me for asking, Doctor, but what the hell are you doing here?" you demanded, arms crossed over your chest.

His eyes locked with yours and you almost gave in to the softness you thought you saw, but you stood your ground. He cleared his throat before speaking. "I'm here to check your bandages. You left the MedBay so quickly, I wanted to make sure that the wound was still covered," he explained.

You rolled your eyes. "Really, Doctor? Is that the best excuse you could come up with? You didn't even bring your medkit, and I really don't have time for this. Goodnight, Dr. McCoy," you retorted.

"Now wait just a minute. As Chief Medical Officer, I am responsible for the health and safety of all crew members. I can see right now that you look a little flushed, which could mean a fever and possibly an infection. Just a quick exam. It'll be painless, I promise," he pleaded, his hands raised.

You arched an eyebrow in skepticism but finally relented. "Fine. A quick exam, then I'm going to bed and you can see yourself out," you muttered.

He stood in front of you, first looking at the bandaged arm, then sliding his hands up your arms to rest on your shoulders. He peered into your eyes and could see how bloodshot they were, probably from the tears you'd been shedding lately. He checked the lymph nodes on your neck to see if they were swollen, but they were fine.

He patted down his uniform, checking his pockets. "Hmm. I don't have a tricorder with me, so I'll have to check your temp the old fashioned way," he remarked. Before you could utter a word, his lips meshed with your forehead.

The second his soft lips touched your skin, something inside you fluttered. You closed your eyes and gave a sigh of contentment before you could stop yourself. "Doctor....," you whispered.

"Shh. Still checkin' your temp, darlin'. And it's Leonard, by the way. You used to call me that, remember?" he murmured against your skin.

Your eyes flew open and you stepped back. "Wait a minute. Why are you really here?" you asked.

"I already told you, to check your bandages. Besides, I want to apologize for what happened earlier in the MedBay, as you were walking out. I shouldn't have said that," McCoy started.

You backed further away from him as the realization sunk in. "Oh no, no, no, you've been talking to Jim, haven't you?" you replied. "I told him to drop it, that no good can come from dredging up something that happened eight years ago. Dammit, does that man ever listen?" you ranted, pacing the floor.

"Hold on there for a minute, sweetheart. I didn't talk to Jim, I called Joanna to wish her a happy birthday. Jocelyn picked up because Joanna was busy. Jocelyn was the one who admitted what happened, not Jim," McCoy explained.

"Leonard, I'm so sorry about what happened all those years ago. I truly thought I was doing the right thing by leaving. But all I've done is cause tremendous heartache for the people I love," you admitted, breaking down into tears yet again.

McCoy walked over and put his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. His hand came up and stroked the back of your head. "Shh, it’s okay, darlin'. I just wish I had known about it then. You never should've had to shoulder that burden all by yourself. Did you ever plan on telling me?" he asked.

You leaned back just far enough to lock eyes with him. "I couldn't, Len. Jocelyn said if I did, she would take you to court and fix it so you couldn't see Joanna at all. I know that custody hearings can go either way, and there's no way I could take the chance that you might lose. So I thought my only option was to step aside. I'd rather have you hate me but keep visitation rights for your daughter, than to love me and not have her," you said as you broke down again.

"Oh, Sugar, I could never hate you," he replied softly, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. "When I found out that you left, I was so angry and hurt. Mostly because you'd made a decision alone that affected both of us. But when you came back and I saw you on that transporter pad all those weeks ago, I thought I had a second chance. Probably screwed that up too, though, haven't I?" he chuckled and so did you.

"Nah. You haven't done anything of the sort. I have missed you so much. After enough time had gone by, I thought about reaching out to you. Then I figured that too much time had gone by and you'd be with someone else. Which would've been fine, as long as you were happy, that's all that would matter to me," you remarked.

"Well, I haven't exactly been living like a monk, you know. I've met other women over the years, but none of them compared to you and no one ever will, either. Which is good, because I don't want any pale imitations or substitutions. I only want the real thing," he admitted just before crashing his lips into yours.

You felt the depth of his emotion poured into that first kiss and returned it with equal fervor. The apologies, the regrets, the longing for each other you still had after all these years. And the love you'd been keeping hidden from each other but never fully let show until now.

"Oh, my love," you whispered. "I've missed you so much, Leonard," you replied hoarsely.

"I've missed you too. I love you so much, Sugar. Can we please agree to not ever be separated like that again? I don't think my heart can take another minute without you," he remarked.

"Mine either. No more separations like that, because with you is where I belong. I love you, Len," you declared. You ran your hands up his arms and cradled his neck between them. Your fingers slid through his jet-black hair, smirking as you teased the short hairs at the base of his collar.

"Oh, there's my naughty girl, I wondered where she'd gone," McCoy growled playfully as he tightened his embrace.

"She's been right here, all along. Just waiting for the right time to come home," you replied softly, then tugged him closer for another kiss.

This kiss was different than before. This one was slow, sensuous and held the promise of a new beginning. As your mouths moved against each other, there was just enough of an opening between you for Leonard's tongue to slip through. He took full advantage of the opportunity, and when your tongues met, a moan of pleasure escaped from you.

Leonard's hands roamed up and down your back as he nudged his way to your neck. "Darlin', you're so beautiful," he murmured against your skin. He left a few open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone, nipping as he went and ultimately leaving his mark on you for all to see.

Layers of clothing were shed one by one. Little by little, Leonard nudged you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed. You climbed up onto the mattress, crawling until you reached the middle where he soon joined you and leaned down to kiss you.

His hands and mouth took their time in worshiping every inch of your exposed skin, as if re-committing it to memory. Your mouth and hands were doing the same, reacquainting yourself with every muscle, every detail of his exquisite bare body.

The silence of your room was punctuated with breathy words of affection and moans of ecstasy from the two of you. Layers of passion were built higher and higher as you both chased your release. Finally, you both tumbled over the edge, one after the other, each whispering declarations of love.

Later, after you both got cleaned up, Leonard came back to bed and settled under the covers with you. He wrapped his arm around you so that your head rested on his chest. You could hear his steady heartbeat, which brought out a sigh of contentment from you.

"Len?" you whispered. He hummed in response, drawing random patterns on your shoulder. "Is this okay? I mean, what just happened, I don't want this to be a one-time thing. I'd like us to try again. I-If that's what you want," you hastily added.

He shifted so that he was propped up on his side, looking down at you. His hand cupped your face, while his thumb caressed your cheek. "Sweetheart, I've wanted that ever since you set foot back on this ship. I may be a little late in sayin' so, but I never stopped lovin' you. If you'll have me, I would love to try being us again," he replied softly.

"I would love that very much," you answered. "I love you, Leonard."

"I love you too, darlin'. Welcome home," he whispered, pulling you in for a long, slow kiss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @marvelouslytrekking​ @spacedancer1701​ @anna-phora​

[bartistic]

Bruce Goes To The Market!

knife tw, food cw, incredibly dumb self-indulgent concept cw, outsider (oc) pov

It is universally acknowledged that a cashier possessing free time, will be in want of an extra task to fill that free time. At least, that’s what James’ managers seemed to think. Privately, he agreed, as he found restocking the shelves to be a most agreeable pastime, one that could in fact suck up hours of his eight hour closing shift.

He was in the soda aisle, debating whether sparkling water belonged with seltzer or with the rest of the store brand items, when he noticed a broad-shouldered man in sunglasses and a Gotham University sweatshirt, inspecting the selection of diet tonic water and looking utterly flummoxed. Customer in need of assistance!

“Hi, how are you doing tonight? You need help finding anything?” Mentally, James winced at the preppy-ness of his ‘customer service robot voice’ as his favorite coworker Stephie liked to call it. Luckily, he’d thrown his voice out enough screaming to Queen karaoke the night before that his voice stayed in the normal octaves rather than shooting into the stratosphere. The man straightened up and looked down towards James, who suddenly felt very short in all of his 5’9” glory. (Well, 5’8 3/4” but who’s counting.)

“Yes, actually. I’m new to the store, could you direct me to where the soap is?” Oh god. Of all the things it had to be the one item James swore was never in the same aisle twice.

“Of course!” He lied through his teeth. “Here, right this way.” Turning, he set off towards the general direction of where the soap tended to lie, with a variation of four different aisles. Luckily, the first aisle was correct, and he watched, intrigued, as the customer gave a thorough inspection to at least 14 different bars of soap. “Anything else I can help you with?” He added, as the man finally selected a bar and placed it in his basket. The man looked sheepish.

“This is actually the first time I’ve been in a grocery store. I’m not usually the one doing the shopping. My—the person I live with gave me a list, but I honestly don’t know where or even what half of these things are.” He held out a grocery list, scrawled in an elegant cursive. It was double-sided. James checked the front of the store, where the other cashier was engrossed in his phone while trying not to appear engrossed in his phone. It was an hour and a half until they closed, and he was pretty sure there was only one other customer in the store at most.

“Sure! Alright, so our first step should probably be to hit the deli, seeing as they have the longest wait times.” After walking the man through ordering Roast Beef, Prosciutto, Pastrami, Swiss, Havarti, Gouda, and Picante Provolone (what) they moved on to the canned goods. “We should probably grab a cart, I don’t think that basket’s going to be able to hold all of this.” Turning into the canned goods aisle, James sighed.

“Caution: Hazard Detected! Precaución, ¡Peligro Detectado!” The store’s resident useless robot assistant was stuck in place, screaming at a small bit of an onion peel that had fallen to the floor.

“Batsy, I swear to god.” James went over and kicked the peel under one of the shelves, pressing the button on the robot to reboot it.

“...Batsy?” The customer sounded somewhere between bemused and amused. Perhaps just ‘mused.

“Yeah, it’s our obtuse robot that only sees what’s right in front of it and makes a big fuss over literally nothing. It can’t even clean anything up, and the few moments there actually is a spill it just skids through it and makes it worse. Technically corporate calls it Patsy, short for Patrick, because we’re Patrick’s, you know? But since this is Gotham, we call it Batsy. Short for... Batrick. I’m not the one who came up with the name, that honor goes to my coworker Stephie. She’s, uh, not working tonight.” James internally began banging his head against the shelves. Why. Was. He. Like. This. “So, do you know what brand of chickpeas your... roommate wanted?”

/ / /

Finally, after another 45 minutes of shopping, they were ready to check out. James noticed the shift had changed while he was away. “Alright, so I can actually take you at this register over here, ‘cuz I’m still logged in and all.” He gulped as the customer began to load up onto the belt. This was... a lot of food. He’d scanned around a quarter when he officially ran out of room, turning to bagging instead. “Let’s get you another cart, actually, so we can load into that without squishing what you haven’t unpacked yet.” He moved to go grab one, but the customer was faster, jogging back with another cart before he could even finish bagging all the protein shakes. There were, admittedly, a lot of protein shakes.

Scanning the meat-substitutes, James scanned his own mind for an avenue of conversation. “So, you mentioned that it’s your son who’s the vegetarian. How old is he?”

“He’s 13. It’s not religious or health-wise or anything, he just really loves animals. Our house is practically a zoo on a good day, and that’s not even counting all his siblings.”

“Oh, how many kids do you have?” It had to be a fair amount for it to be ‘all’ his siblings. The customer opened his mouth as if to answer, then shut it again. He seemed to be thinking. Did he... not know how many kids he had??

“Legally I have... fffffour? Five? Yeah... that sounds right.” James tried to hide the bewildered expression in his own face, but he must not have been doing it well. “That makes me sound like such a bad father. No, I promise, I love them all, I just have quite a few of their friends living with us as well, and I’ve known those kids long enough to feel like they’re my kids too. Not to mention the whole difference between the ones I’ve adopted, the one who was my ward who I then retroactively adopted, the one I’m fostering, and the one who is legally an emancipated minor. And... the one who. Is no longer with us.” James blinked. That was indeed complicated.

“You must have a lot of love in your heart,” he settled on, finally.

“I just h— Oh, #%*$.” The blueberry container had burst open, all over the floor. James internally groaned.

“Oh no! Sorry about that, that’s the third one tonight. The packaging is just... not great. Do you want me to go get you another one?”

“No, I can get it. Thanks though.” The customer gingerly stepped through the minefield as James power walked to go get the clean up supplies. Six feet away, Batsy was screaming at a blueberry.

“Eat your heart out, Mister Miyagi,” he aimed a light roundhouse kick at the button to reboot the robot. Batsy got two feet before it encountered another world-ending-threat, danger level blueberry. James sighed and went to go clear that area first.

/ / /

Finally, almost everything was scanned. James was scanning the bread and rolls as the customer fit all the bags into the two carts, like an expert game of tetris. There were a few hiccups where James had had to explain that you probably shouldn’t bag Raid with milk, or that it was a good idea to double bag heavy items, or that you should wait until the end to put the eggs in (and there were a lot of eggs. Gaston-levels of eggs. Probably to be expected with that many kids in the house. Hah. eggs-pected.) But by the end they were working like a well-oiled machine. James bagged the last item, hit the button to total it, and watched as the customer realized he forgot his deli items.

“I’m just gonna— gonna run and go get those real quick. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you fill out the charity question real quick though? Th...thanks.” The customer was gone before James could question him on the fact that he’d used the custom amount option to apparently donate $1k to Gotham General’s children’s ward. It was... probably a mistake, but he’d wait around to check. He turned as he heard the beginnings of a commotion behind him, from the one other customer in the store. This guy’s whole aesthetic just screamed gross, from the white-boy dreads to the Blue Lives Matter gaiter mask. It looked as if he was having trouble at self-checkout. James was about to head over to help when his coworker passed him. He turned back to keep an eye on the clock. 10 minutes until closing. Please come back with the deli items soon. He heard an aggressive murmuring that sent chills up his spine, a distinct feeling of Not Right Bad. He turned back to where his coworker was engaged with helping the other customer. His coworker who was... very pale. Frightened. The customer whose hand glinted silver with... oh #%*$, that’s a knife. Not Good Very Bad... oh hell no, you are not hurting my coworker on my watch.

“HEY #%$&FACE, EAT BEANS!” As the aggressive customer turned to meet the container of garbanzo beans that was currently hurtling towards his face at the maximum speed a theatre-kid-who-never-did-sports could throw, the world seemed to throw down. Faintly, James could hear rational thoughts pounding at the door to his mind, begging to be let in. Thoughts like ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for attacking a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for cursing in front of a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for damaging the merchandise’ and ‘You can’t even throw a ball to save your life, there’s no way that’s going to hit him.’ Praying to Freddie Mercury, Elton John, and all other things holy, James watched as the beans sailed through the air and struck their target true— albeit a little lower than planned.”

Grossface automatically brought his hands down to protect his nethers, apparently forgetting that their was a knife in his hands. He let out a second agonized howl as he stabbed himself in the balls. Blindly, James groped around for more ammunition. Holding out a zucchini as threateningly as he could, he watched as the would-be aggressor ran out of the store as fast as he could with both hands clasping his junk. “Are you okay?” He asked his coworker, feeling his voice echo through the suddenly very-quiet-sounding store. She nodded mutely. He nodded back, then turned back to his register and oH shit there’s His Customer, holding the deli items.

“Nice shot.” Okay, this time he definitely sounded amused.

“I... am so sorry about the beans, I can get you a refund on those or I can go get you some more or—”

“No need, they definitely went to a good cause.” The customer grinned and held out the deli items. Faintly, James began to wrestle with the bag to get to the barcodes. Finally, everything was scanned, for good.

“Alright, will that be everything?” The clock read two minutes until closing.

“Yes, that should be everything. Again, thank you for all your help.” James watched as even with the membership points taken off, the total soared to over $750.

“Alright, your total is... $754.33, here’s some coupons and a survey slip. If you fill that out you get entered for a drawing to win a $500 gift card. Which... I don’t know that you’d need, but. Why not.” The customer reached into his wallet and counted out 5 $100 bills. Then he pulled out a black card. He paid off the total with the card, then handed the bills to James.

“Here you go, I wasn’t sure how much you tip cashiers.” James opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish.

“People don’t normally... tip cashiers...” and especially not HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS.

“Oh. Well, you were a good cashier. You deserve it. And here—” at this he pulled a crisp business card out of his wallet. “At Wayne Enterprises we could use quick-thinkers like you.” Pulling down his sunglasses, he gave a quick wink. James waved absentmindedly as BRUCE #%*$ING WAYNE walked out of the store. He looked down at the business card. Written upon it were the words: “Call here for an interview, mention Malone and they’ll know I sent you. Best of luck with the current job— BW”

James sat down. The clock was 10 minutes past closing before he remembered to look at it. There were a million thoughts running through his head. Oh my god I joked around to a billionaire. I cursed in front of a billionaire. I chucked a can of beans into a man’s nutsack in front of a billionaire.

But oddly enough, the only question that remained at the top of his mind was this:

This is because I have black hair and blue eyes, isn’t it.

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.4

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else. 

Chapter Four: Hope Is A Heartache: A glimpse into your past with Spencer as you tour wedding venues together. A/N: chapter titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, jealousy, this series is a real slow burn babyyy

series masterlist

A/N: you guys are incredible omg!! i’d love to reply to you all under each chapter but unfortunately this is not my main account but my messages are open so feel free to say hi!! i’m so happy you’re all enjoying the story so far, honestly lost for words! 

-

It was a cold day. Cold enough to make your atoms shiver. Dark grey clouds covered every inch of the sky above, hiding the winter sun. The air was brisk. It was harsh against your skin as you got out of the car. And the unwelcoming breeze that followed made you wish that you hadn't forgotten your scarf. 

“What a terrible miserable day.” You muttered while slamming your car door shut. You ambled your way around the hood as Spencer gently closed the passenger side door. You noticed immediately how he shivered slightly when the chilly air bushed against him. A sigh escaped your lips. 

“Honestly Spencer, I can reschedule. I’m sure you would much rather spend this dull day reading in the comfort of your own apartment rather than driving around touring venues with me.” 

“If you promise we stop for coffee before the next place, then I’m all good.” He replied, mouth twitching into an awkward half-smile. 

You smiled back at him. “I’ll get you all the coffee you want doctor.” 

“One is fine Y/N.” Spencer said, the smile on his face widening. “You know there are side effects to having too much caffeine. Anxiety, insomnia, and digestive issues to name a few.” 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. “I’ll repeat that back to you next time we’re working a case and you’re on your fifth cup of coffee in the space of three hours.” 

Spencer chuckled lightly at your response. “I guess that’s fair.” 

There was a brief moment of silence in which the two of you once again found yourselves simply looking into each others eyes. Blocking off the surroundings. Basking in the comforting warm presence of one another. Something that ever since your dinner date a couple of weeks ago happened more often than it probably should have. 

The brunette doctor enjoyed these seconds. To him, they were pure bliss. To him, these moments of uninterrupted silence said more than either of you could ever say with words. Because truth be told Spencer was afraid to talk around you in case he ever said too much.

Which is why he only agreed to tag along today because Garcia was supposed to be here. As the maid of honour she volunteered to join you today since your fiancé couldn't make it. So when Spencer approached the car this morning, noticing immediately how the passenger seat was empty, he half wanted to turn back. He only stayed because of the promise he made your dad. 

Although, he really was going to have to be careful not to slip up and reveal something he probably shouldn't.

After what seemed like eternity, you tilted your head and looked away. Palms of your hands sweating inside your jacket pockets. Heart beating fast. The cold air no longer a nuisance. 

Unknown to the brunette doctor you also quite liked these silent moments. But unlike Spencer, you always felt incredibly guilty afterward. As if you were being dishonest and misleading somehow; rather your heart was. 

With an inaudible sigh, you began making your way toward the entrance. 

“Come on doctor, maybe they’ll have coffee here.” You called out after you, and shortly Spencer was by your side once again. 

The venue was beautiful. You had only stepped in the door and already you were mesmerised. Even though the space was currently empty, you had no trouble at all visualising what you hoped it would look like on your big day. From the colour scheme, to the flowers, and the decorations. 

“I am so glad you made it Y/N!” The wedding planner, Gina, appeared as you were basking in your surroundings. She hugged you briefly before turning her attention to Spencer. “And this must be the infamous Ethan.” 

“Oh actually, no.” You cut in before Spencer could say anything. Gina glanced at you once again, one brow raised. “Ethan couldn't make it.” You advised with a timid smile. “This is Spencer.”

Gina nodded slowly. She looked at Spencer, and as she was eyeing him up you were hoping that she wouldn't recognise the name. See you have known Gina for some time now. You had initially reached out to her about a year and a half ago when you were hoping to marry the very young doctor stood beside you. 

“Well, Spencer it’s nice to meet you.” She spoke, flashing him a pearly white smile. “I’m Gina, the wedding planner.” 

“It’s nice to meet you too Gina.” Spencer responded, returning the smile. You could tell he was feeling slightly uncomfortable being mistaken by your fiancé, and you took a mental note to apologise for that in the car.

“Shall we get started?” Gina asked, turning her attention to you. “Lead the way.” You replied. 

About an hour later the tour had concluded. You made plans to meet Gina at the next venue and after getting the exact address from her, you and Spencer ambled back to the car. 

“What did you think?” You asked while hopping inside the vehicle. 

“I liked it.” Spencer responded while fastening his seatbelt. You shot him a quick glance before securing your own strap. He smiled at you. “What?” “Just checking if you’re lying.” Spencer laughed at your response. ��And am I?” You shook your head. “No. It appears you are telling the truth.”

You turned to look ahead before starting the engine. Soon the two of you were on the road. 

“I think it’s more important if you liked it.” Spencer spoke. “I loved it.” “Why do I sense a but.” Spencer enquired with a soft laugh. You giggled. “But I don’t think Ethan would’ve liked it.” “Ah.” 

“You can say it.” You retorted. “What?” Spencer asked. “That he’s not here so he shouldn’t get a say.” From the corner of his eye, Spencer noticed how your grip around the wheel tightened ever so slightly.  

“I’d never say that.” He replied. 

“Now that was a lie doctor.” 

There was a brief moment of silence.

You sighed. “He promised me he’d be here. Just like he promised he wouldn't get called to work during our engagement party.” You stopped the car at a red light and glanced glanced at Spencer who was already looking at you. “So you can say it. Heck, I’m fucking thinking it.” 

Spencer swallowed. He knew he shouldn't get involved. At least more than he already was. He knew he shouldn't indulge you. And he definitely knew that he shouldn't try to steer you away from Ethan. Because even though he really wanted to win you back, he knew that was unfair to you.  

So Spencer was glad the light turned green and your attention was back on the road before he got a chance to respond. 

“You know what was odd?” He said, quickly changing the subject. “What?” You asked. “How Gina didn't try to shake my hand when we met.” He noted, and immediately you bit your bottom lip. Fuck. You didn't realise it then. How could you have not realised? It means that she recognised the name and remembered how you told her he was a germaphobe. 

“She must have just been eager to get going to be honest.” You lied calmly. 

Spencer didn't buy your excuse. “I don’t think that’s it.” He said, trying to get a reaction out of you. “It’s almost as if she knew not to shake my hand.” 

“Honestly Spencer, I wouldn't read too much into it.” You countered. “I mean we are on a tight schedu-.”

“Why are you lying to me Y/N?” He interrupted causing the air to hitch in your throat. “Just like you know when I’m not being truthful Y/N, I can also tell when you’re lying and you’re doing so right now.” 

There was no point evading him any longer. Spencer was stubborn, almost as stubborn as you, and he wasn't going to stop pressing on the matter. Plus it was time he knew the truth. After all this time, he deserved to know the truth. 

Taking a deep breath, you pulled the car over on the side of the road and cut the engine. You turned to look at the brunette doctor who was already looking at you. 

“Do you remember the last time I visited you in prison?” You asked, your voice so timid you weren't even sure Spencer heard you. But he did. And he nodded his head slowly. “Of course I do. It was one of the worst days of my life.” He responded, and you could detect the hurt in his sentence. 

“Well, uhh-” You cleared your throat. Here goes nothing. “That day I came to see you I actually, eh, well I-I wanted to ask if you’d marry me.” 

Spencer was taken aback by your admission. A puzzled expression spread across his face as his mouth parted in shock. He searched his mind for what words to say but nothing seemed quite right. You wanted to marry him? The day he broke your heart by ending things with you so abruptly, you wanted to propose? He couldn't believe it. 

Of course you sensed that he had trouble with wrapping his brain around this, like you knew he would, so you continued. 

“Spencer, I loved you so much and just like the rest of the team I knew in my heart you were innocent. I knew it was only a matter of time before you would get out.” Tears began forming in your eyes and the lump in your throat grew larger with every passing second. 

“When you were locked away, and our life together was taken away from us without warning, I realised I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my days with you.” The salty droplets began trailing down your cheeks and along your jawline. Spencer wanted to reach out and wipe them but he couldn't bring himself to move an inch. He was completely frozen.

“But between trying to clear your name, working the normal caseload, and honestly trying to get out of bed every fucking morning, I needed help to planning what I wanted to be the most perfect day.” You paused to take a quick breath. “Which is why I hired Gina.” 

“Why didn't you say anything?” Spencer asked quietly after a moment of silence. An uneasy yet somewhat freeing silence. 

“You broke up with me Spencer.” You replied. “That day I came to visit you, before I could even finish saying ‘Hi Spencer, I missed you.’, you ended things.”

“Y/N...” He whispered, and without thinking he took your hands in his. “And I know you remember what happened after that so I’m sure you can figure out why I didn't tell you sooner.” You added, corner of your lips twirling into a half-smile. Spencer squeezed your hands and let out a deep sigh. 

“If I-” The brunette agent began but you shook your head to cut him off. “I know you only ended things to protect me Spencer.” You freed your hands from his grasp and gently cupped his cheek. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that he leaned into your touch. 

“Which is why I was never angry with you, why I never resented you. I cannot take back the words I said to you that day but you have to understand it was all the initial shock considering I thought I would be leaving the prison with a fiancé and not completely heartbroken.” 

You let your hand fall from Spencer’s face and ran your fingers through your hair. You cleared your throat. 

“I hope this doesn't change anything between us.” You muttered. “Because I like where we are now, and I would hate-” This time it was Spencer who cut you off. “You have nothing to worry about Y/N.” He said with a timid smile.

“Thank you for telling me.” Spencer added.

“It was time you knew.”

You smiled at him warmly one last time before turning your attention back to the wheel. You started the engine once again and within minutes you were back on the road. 

The two of you drove in congenial silence. As you focused on the directions ahead, feeling grateful that the brunette doctor was understanding, Spencer’s mind raced. 

He couldn't help but wonder where the two of you would be now if he hadn't been so rash - married, maybe with a child by now. He shook the thought away, it hurt too much. 

Of course back then he did what he thought was the right thing to do. He was suspicious that whoever was framing him would come after you, and he knew he couldn't risk that. He would never risk anything bad happening to you. In the end his suspicions were proved correct when Cat and Lindsey kidnapped his mom. And when that happened you were there for him in unimaginable ways, you didn't leave his side for a minute. 

He should have begged for your forgiveness the second the whole ordeal was over. He should have fought harder to win you back, especially since it didn't take long for him to admit he only broke up with you to protect you. Truthfully, he was a coward. He thought perhaps you wouldn't take him back after the hurtful things that were said. 

After all this time, he learned that you only really said what you said because you thought Spencer was the love of your life. 

“I would have said yes.” The brunette doctor whispered.

Stopping at a red light, you turned your head to look at him. A confused look gracing your facial features. Spencer cleared his throat before nervously meeting your gaze. 

“I would have said yes.” He spoke louder. Now you definitely heard him. 

“Spencer...” 

“I know it doesn't matter now, but in case you ever wondered what I would have said if you got to ask me back then.” He paused. “I would have said yes.”

“You don’t have to say that.” You muttered with a soft smile. “I’m not just saying it Y/N. I really mean it.” He emphasised and your heart skipped a beat. 

The thought that crossed your mind next was incredibly wrong. The sudden pull you felt toward the man sitting beside you was inappropriate, misguided even, however it was there. You wanted to kiss him. You really wanted to kiss him. 

Perhaps if you knew that Spencer wanted to kiss you too, you would have leapt across from your seat to smash his lips against yours. To tangle your fingers in his hair, cradle his lap, feel his hands travel up your back and hold you close.

But you didn't know. So you hesitated. And as you hesitated, you were promptly brought back to reality by the car behind you. The beeping of the horn signalised the lights had turned green and it was time to move along. 

With a timid smile, you broke eye contact and began to drive. 

Heavy-sitting silence enveloped around you. Spencer noticed immediately the slight change in your demeanour but he chose not to comment on it. 

See, just seconds ago the brunette agent noticed a look in your eyes that he hasn't seen since you were dating. A look of devotion, amity. A look that burned the hope inside of him even more. 

An image formulated in his brain. Image of you walking down the aisle in a beautiful white dress, him standing at the end of the alter while your dad gives you away, both of you tearing up. It was foolish, yes. Spencer should have known better than to hold out hope that one day that image would become reality but he couldn't help it. 

And as the image became more vivid, the pain he felt in his heart grew stronger. Knowing that one day you wanted to be his forever, and now he was helping you tour venues for a wedding he didn't want to happen. The perfect image came crumbling down. Reality hit. 

No matter how much he wanted it, you weren't his anymore. 

Keep thinking about us and how things get in between But if it is love, it doesn't matter, you don't belong to me But I can't let go

-

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked the fourth chapter!! i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01​, @reverdevivre​, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy​, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​

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[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (8)

One day and one hour later than they’d initially agreed, Izuku climbed into the unassuming truck waiting for him in the parking lot just outside his apartment.

“Hey.” Was all the greeting the boy got, All Might’s utterly flat tone matching his blank expression. That already boded ill in Izuku’s book.

“Good afternoon.” 

All Might started the engine immediately, and a moment later they were on the road. He didn’t ask anything, he didn’t volunteer any comment or observation. The manifest indifference was beyond unnerving. Izuku didn’t do well with unnerving.

“Uhm. They told you already, didn’t they?” Izuku blurted out. “That my father-”

“Yes. We can talk about that later. Tsukauchi will be giving us a call for a quick briefing.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

They didn’t speak as they drove. They didn’t speak as they set to work on their respective tasks.

The atmosphere was completely different from the first day. All Might practically ignored Izuku for the entirety of his trash-hauling rounds: no advice, no critiques, no jokes or jabs. His quietness weighed on Izuku’s mind like a boulder, sparking an oppressive sense of guilt in him even if he had no idea what responsibility he could possibly hold in the current state of affairs. The hero didn’t look exactly angry, but certainly gloomy, hunched as he was on the files he was perusing, with drawn eyebrows and ill-concealed weariness. During the breaks, his questions were terse and unaffected, as if all the obvious engagement he’d shown so far in the case had mysteriously vanished.

By the time Izuku heard All Might’s ringtone, his nerves were so frayed that he nearly lost his hold on the small TV he was carrying. Despite everything, he felt relief when the man beckoned him with a gesture: if any shoes had to drop, so be it. Anything was better than this anxious wait.

Only few pleasantries were exchanged before Tsukauchi asked the pivotal question.

“No, he hasn’t.” Izuku confirmed.

“And this isn’t something you’d consider normal, is it?” All Might sat atop the stairs, his elbows propped on his thighs and his chin resting on his folded hands. His long bangs hid his eyes from Izuku’s view, but it wasn’t hard to tell that his mood wasn’t improving.

“No, not at all. He always calls on the first day of the month, both me and my mother separately since I got my own mobile.” And this time his father hadn’t called either. Not a peep. For two days in a row, almost three now. And that, much to Izuku’s dismay, was perhaps the most damning piece of evidence of his father’s guilt that the boy had faced yet.

“Has this ever happened before?” The detective’s voice chimed in, loud and clear from the speaker of the phone resting on the bare concrete between them. 

“Yes, a few years ago. We didn’t hear from him for several months. It turned out he’d been indisposed because of… an accident on the job…” Izuku was growing to hate the gut-churning sense of doom that came with constantly discovering new, chilling interpretations to just about every sentence his father had uttered over the past fourteen years. An accident on the job, imagine that. All Might grimaced, probably reaching the same conclusion.

“That’s when he sent you those chat-only devices, right?”

“...Right.” Izuku was fairly sure that his mother had already told Tsukauchi all that, since they’d already confiscated the chat-phones for ‘more accurate examination’. Yet the detective felt the need to inquire again. Double-checking. Cross-checking. Confirming the reliability of the sources.

Suspicion and distrust.

“We can rule out an injury in this case. The timing cannot be a coincidence.” All Might muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You mentioned an emergency number. Have you ever tried using it?” Tsukauchi asked.

“Only once. When my quirk manifested. It wasn’t exactly an emergency, but I was a bit… upset. Oh, and my mother used it when we got worried because he wasn’t calling.”

“So it would be possible for you to contact him yourself, in theory.”

“Yes, but… it would be strange if I did that just because of one skipped call. Last time we waited... three months, I think, before reaching out ourselves. He’d probably get wary if I used it without a good reason, it isn’t something I would do.”

His assertion was met with utter stillness. Izuku fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to parse the meaning of it. Were they at a loss? Angry at him for his uncooperativeness? 

“O-Or maybe I would. I… I think I can come up with an excuse, if you want me to try using it.” He went on, his brain racing to keep up with his overly proactive mouth. “Last time this happened he got badly hurt, so… I could pretend I got very worried and called him in a panic? W-Which would also be a good excuse if I were to, uh, actually panic while talking to him because of… all the stuff I know-”

“No. Please don’t do anything of the sort.” Tsukauchi interrupted him firmly. “Regardless of the reason for his current silence, we don’t want to risk having this preferential line of communication cut off. It could be useful for us in the future, so don’t mishandle it.”

“O-Okay.” Once again, the faint crashing of the waves did nothing to fill the troubling pauses in their discussion. 

“...Midoriya.” Tsukauchi eventually said. “Can you think of any possible explanation for your father not to call, other than him being aware of our scrutiny on your family?”

That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Izuku dropped his head and bit his lip. “...I’m sorry, I couldn’t say.”

“Excuse my bluntness.” All Might interjected, finally turning his head to look straight at Izuku. His expression was no less than grim. “You didn’t happen to alert him about what we’re trying to do, did you?”

Izuku’s jaw literally hung open in shock. That- Was that really what they were angling for? “N-No! No, I didn’t!”

“I don’t think-” Tsukauchi started, but the hero continued as if he hadn’t even heard him.

“It is exceedingly common for relatives to shield or help criminals avoid detection, no matter how serious their misconduct. It is… a very human and understandable reaction, to protect a loved one no matter what.” All Might’s expression softened, somewhat, but his gaze was still so intense that Izuku felt pinned by it like a butterfly. “We’d hardly be surprised if you felt that urge as well.”

“I… I did not, I swear…” Izuku gulped with difficulty, his throat tight with tension. He was freaking out. He was freaking out, he could tell, and that wasn’t the kind of response that supported his plea of innocence. He had to be rational about this. Tsukauchi and All Might would see reason when presented with it, surely- “I-I couldn’t, even if I wanted to, could I? You’ve been watching us, you know who we’ve been in touch with…”

“Not from the very moment you learned the truth. A whole night passed before the technicians put some surveillance measures in place… and I imagine it must have been a grueling night for you. You had many questions I didn’t answer straight away - which was perhaps foolish of me. And if you wanted those answers straight from the horse’s mouth…”

Izuku’s heart sank right into the ground. Because All Might was right, he had been tempted to use that damn emergency number and demand some explanations, he had been oh so tempted… But he had (barely) managed to repress that impulse, because what were the chances of obtaining an honest reply anyway? No criminal with a lick of brain would spill the beans just because their child asked nicely, especially not someone as consistently secretive and silver-tongued as his father. All he could possibly get were denials he didn’t know whether he could trust. But All Might’s hypothesis made too much sense for him to just take his word, didn’t it?

“I didn’t.” Izuku scrambled to pull his own phone out of his pocket, dropped it through sweaty fingers, picked it up hastily, tapped on some random icons to make sure the screen still worked, and held it out to All Might.  “H-Here, check yourself. I didn’t call him, or anyone else. Please check.”

“They already did.” The man didn't move an inch and barely looked at the device, almost absently. “But you’re a smart kid, and your father is even more clever. I think we’d be naive to assume you couldn’t find a different way to communicate if necessity arose, one we might not catch onto as readily. That’s why I’m asking you.”

Izuku’s arm slowly lowered, his phone still clutched in his hand. There was just… no way to disprove such suspicions. He stared at All Might in dismay, failing to come up with any semblance of a reply.

“Please understand that, if your father was indeed warned about police involvement, our first and utmost priority would be, for obvious security concerns, to identify who provided such information to him, and how.” All Might’s tone was lower, almost reassuring, as he leaned towards Izuku slightly to emphasize his words. “ Not  to punish said informant. There would hardly be any negative repercussions for you if you admitted to doing it, given the circumstances. I can promise you that.”

Izuku was speechless. All he could do was gawk helplessly at his idol as he more or less tried to goad him into a confession, and shake his head negatively. 

After what felt like hours, All Might finally broke eye contact, his expression darkening as he rested his chin on his hands anew. “...All right. I understand.”

Tsukauchi cleared his throat in a little burst of static, suddenly reminding Izuku of his existence. “...Anyway, at this point our best course of action is to wait and see if our man will decide to contact the family in some other way, and continue our investigations in the meantime.”

“I suppose.” All Might acknowledged laconically.

“That is all, then. Thank you both for checking in. I’ll keep you in the loop about any developments on our end.”

“Much obliged.”

“Have a good evening. You too, Midoriya.”

“Good evening.” All Might fetched his mobile, but he didn’t end the call right away. Belatedly, Izuku realized he was waiting for him to bid goodbye as well, but Izuku simply didn’t have it in him to utter a single word at the moment. After giving him a brief, indecipherable look, the hero tapped his phone anyway and put it away.

“There’s still time for one last workout session, I think.” The man eventually said, apparently nonplussed by Izuku’s continued unresponsiveness. Numbly, Izuku stood up and hobbled towards the heap of junk closest to the water, if only to get some more distance between them.

He worked slowly, on purpose. He didn’t run, not even when passing right beside All Might, yet he got no reproaches or encouragements whatsoever. Izuku did not feel altogether there, but he could tell that the man’s focus wasn’t faring much better, considering that he didn’t turn a single page in his file for at least ten minutes. 

A travesty, that’s what it was. All of it.

The big, worn maneki-neko he was hoisting suddenly slipped from his grasp and landed heavily on his right foot. Izuku yelped in pain and instinctively hopped away from it, falling on his rear on the soft sand. 

He did not get up. He did not see the point. He simply sat there, massaging his ankle even after it stopped aching, sorely aware of his burning eyes and his quickening breaths.

“Is everything all right?”

Izuku was facing away from All Might, which was very convenient, because he wasn't sure he could bear the sight of him for a second longer. He focused his attention on the grimy paw of the tipped-over cat in front of him. This was a good thing, maybe. The definitive wake-up call he needed to put any last misplaced hopes and dreams to rest. 

“Kid?”

Suspicion and distrust. Those words kept floating in his head like a jinx. His father was right, and how couldn’t he be? He was the very cause of the consequence he’d foreseen, ancient legendary criminals be damned. His carefully-worded duplicity felt unspeakably cruel. 

Padded steps behind Izuku’s back made him aware that All Might had approached him.

“Hey, did you get hurt?”

“Why do you even bother?” Izuku kept his head resolutely bent downwards. Addressing the sand felt a lot safer than exposing himself to that searching glare again. “Questioning me. If you can’t trust my answers.”

“...What?”

“I don’t know how to prove that I didn’t talk to my father. I don’t think I can.” Izuku sniffed, unable to hold back his tears. He wondered if all that recurring crying was arousing All Might’s suspicion too, no doubt he must look like he was fishing for pity or something. “But if you don’t believe me, what’s the point of asking me anything?”

“I do believe you. Of course. Otherwise I wouldn’t-”

“Then what was that about?” He whined. Pitifully.

At times like these, Izuku wanted nothing more than to be like Kacchan. He wanted nothing more than to be the kind of person that, when faced with injustice or adversity, found the strength to stand upright, raise his fists, shout, fight back. Get angry. Why couldn’t he just get angry, instead of curling on himself, crying, shaking, groveling? What was so fundamentally broken and weak in him that always made him beg for the barest scrap of acceptance, instead of exacting due respect?

All Might didn’t reply immediately. If Izuku’s outburst affected him in any way, his persistently level tone did not show it. “That was a very real possibility that needed to be ruled out. The possibility of you making a wrong move, out of naivety, trust, or fear. We had to ask.” Another pause. “Believe me, if we thought you were deliberately feeding us false information, we’d be treating you very differently.”

Was that supposed to be a threat? A poorly delivered reassurance? A dispassionate statement of facts? Izuku genuinely couldn’t tell. He didn’t know what to make of the hero’s sudden detachment, of how different he was from the previous days. What Izuku did know, however, was that he deserved none of it. He deserved none of the suspicion, none of the scrutiny, none of the contempt, none of the trickery, none of the lies that had been dumped and were still being dumped on him. 

And yet, he was going to have put up with it all anyway. For the rest of his life.

“I wouldn’t do that.” He didn’t sound nearly as firm as he hoped. He sounded like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, and all the more accurate for that. “He’s a liar, and a thief. I wouldn’t help him. I wouldn’t protect him. I wouldn’t lie for his sake. I’m not…”  I’m not like my mom, he almost said. But it felt cruel in his own head, too cruel and unfair to throw out there just for the sake of making a point.

“...No, you wouldn’t.” All Might said, just a tad more softly. Just a tad, but it was enough to compel Izuku to finally turn and look up at him. The hero looked pensive, and vaguely troubled. ”You don’t strike me as the kind of person who would. But…” All Might seemed to struggle for words for a moment, then he simply spread his arms and let them fall back to his sides dejectedly. “I’ve known you for all of one week. What do I know?”

Izuku blinked. That was… a fair point, to be perfectly honest. One week. Had it really been only one week since it had all begun? It felt so, so much longer… Was it unreasonable to expect that degree of trust from the police, from All Might so soon? Maybe it was. And yet…  And yet…

“So… Y-You don’t really think it was me who warned him?” Izuku was acutely aware of how pathetic he must sound, practically begging for consolation as he was, but pride and self-respect were luxuries he had never been able to partake in as much as he needed.

“No, I don’t. Although… honestly, it would have been a relief if it had been you.”

“W-What? Why?”

“Because we are reasonably sure that the house itself isn’t under anyone else’s surveillance, and if it isn’t you, and it isn’t your mother…” All Might’s hand shot up and ruffled his own hair with a grimace, suddenly nervous, frustrated, strangely and overtly so. “It means that we have to look somewhere else.”

It took a minute for Izuku to read between the lines. He remembered something All Might had said a few days before, about how they were employing a limited number of agents to avoid… exactly that, information leaks. Were they afraid that the mysterious snitch could hide within the police themselves...? That would indeed be a problem with a capital P. A leak a lot harder to pinpoint and contain than one caused by the most obvious suspects. Not to mention how it kept reinforcing the notion of Izuku’s father being some freakishly influential figure in the criminal underground, if his network of associates included even members of the force.

“...Oh.” Izuku commented eloquently.

“Look, I just… I was offering you an out, in case you needed one. Wiser people than you and me have done worse things for the sake of their family. I didn’t mean to insult you.” The man didn’t move, not quite, but something in his demeanor deflated. His shoulders hunched somewhat, and the tense wrinkles in his expression smoothed - not as if his worries had cleared up, but as if even maintaining a simple frown took him more energy than he could spare at present. “...I’m sorry. It’s been a bad day.”

And just like that, Izuku’s grievances vanished into the ether. They always did. He could never hold onto them, even when he rationally knew he ought to. One word of apology, one kind gesture, even a simple truce during an argument, and Izuku was always ready to let bygones be bygones. He knew for a fact that that was just about the only reason why he still called Kacchan his friend. He knew for a fact that it wasn’t the most advantageous trait of his character, but it just was how he was. Who he was. Someone who simply couldn’t reject a proffered hand.

“...Okay.” He sniffed, wiping away his tears, as they were promptly replaced by new ones and as the low roaring of the sea drowned his last hiccups.

“...Do you want to go home?” All Might eventually asked. The sun was about to start setting, far beyond the city skyline.

“I can stay a little longer.” Izuku offered, mostly because the simple act of standing up and walking back to the truck seemed a Herculean task after all that. “But let’s just… drop this.”

“Drop what?”

“T-This.” Izuku gestured all around him, at the inglorious cemetery of old metal, plastic, and his own aspirations. “The ‘training’. Let’s just… forget about it. Ask me whatever you have to ask me. It’s why we’re here.”

“You want to stop training? For good?” Izuku really, really did not understand what was going through All Might’s head that day. Why now, after everything that had been said, why now was when he decided to sound disappointed? 

“It’s a waste of time. The investigation is what’s important, right?”

“The investigation is about your father. This is about you. Your future is no less important than his.”

They were charitable words, but they did not ring true to Izuku. Not because he thought All Might’s concern to be disingenuous, but because they clashed so outrageously with the harsh reality of things that Izuku couldn’t help but feel like he was being treated like a toddler, and expected to believe that Santa was just about to climb down the chimney.

“Well, my future seems dead set on going in another direction, doesn’t it?” Izuku muttered, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his hands around his shoes. “First it was not having a quirk, then it was having a bad one, and now this thing with my father… Everything that could have possibly gone wrong with me trying to become a hero, has gone wrong.”

“So you want to give up.”

Izuku’s jaw tightened, and his fingers dug into the sand forcefully. Now, that was just…  unfair, wasn’t it? “It doesn’t matter what I want. I don’t even know what I'm up against in the test. I don’t even know what skills I’m supposed to have or improve. Everything is just so up in the air, I… There’s no way to plan ahead, no way to know whether I have a reasonable chance, or even a small one…”

“This is hardly your problem alone.” All Might retorted tersely. “No candidate will take the admission test knowing what they’re in for, or with any reasonable certainty of making it in. You will all be facing unknown odds and challenges. Even those who receive a recommendation will have to undergo a preliminary-”

“Well, at least the others know for sure that they will be considered! And evaluated fairly, and trusted- trusted to be normal, decent people, instead of… of a criminal in the making with an ungodly powerful quirk! As if the test wasn’t enough, I don’t even know if I will be considered at all, or if they’ll just- just show me the door the moment they realize what my power is, or who my father-”

“I told you,” All Might interrupted him, visibly ticked off now, “That you have a chance. You said that a chance to prove yourself was all you needed. Is that not enough any more?”

“It’s- it’s NOT!” Izuku finally burst out, spreading his arms in exasperation, his vision growing blurry and warm tears trickling down his cheeks all over again. Pathetic, to his last whimper. “Not like this! A-Am I just supposed to… to work myself to the bone for ten months, just in the off chance that maybe that’s exactly what I need to pass a test no one knows anything about, and that maybe people will be convinced that I’m not constantly at risk of- of making a wrong move just because I’ve cleaned up some trash for a while?!“ Izuku dropped his forehead on his knees, huddling on himself even more in a vain attempt at stifling his own sobs. “I-It’s just too much! None of this makes sense! It’s never going to work!”

Silence stretched. Heavy, uncomfortable, miserable. What else was there to say?

“You want certainties.” All Might said, an eternity later, low and plain. “If you want certainties, this profession might not be for you.”

Izuku peeked at the man again. He wasn’t looking at him. He was gazing at the sea, evidently lost in his own thoughts. What a harsh judgement to hand out with such unassuming calm.

“I’m sure this must look like an insurmountable hurdle stacked on top of an enormous task. But the work of a hero involves dealing with much worse odds, and for much higher stakes on a daily basis, I hope you realize that.“ The hero paused. “It is a rare privilege to enter a battlefield or the scene of a disaster with the certainty of being able to fulfil your duty.”

Izuku exhaled with a shudder. He… He knew that, obviously. He wasn’t comparing a school test to the hardships of hero work, not at all, but… But what? What counterpoint could he make to that assertion? 

“I suppose I have no right to preach in this regard, though.” All Might bowed his head humbly, a shadow of genuine regret clouding his features. “I was blessed with the power to do exactly that for so long that I have grown complacent and lost sight of that basic principle myself. Had I known better, I wouldn’t have been watching idly from a crowd while an innocent boy almost got choked to death simply because I didn’t think I had it in me to put in a little extra effort.”

“That… You can’t call that complacency!” Izuku objected unthinkingly, disturbed by the logic of that statement. “You were exhausted! It would have hurt you! You weren’t the only hero on the scene either, you had plenty of good reasons not to-”

“That doesn’t matter. It mustn’t matter. Sometimes the only certainty you’ll have upon undertaking a mission is that your chances of making it out of it in one piece are almost non-existent.” All Might’s eyes homed in on Izuku again, sharp and bright, his head jerking towards the boy so fast that it almost made Izuku flinch in surprise. “Nevertheless, you must play your part. Because if you don’t, someone else will have to take your place on the front line, and take the brunt of it in your stead. And because your efforts, even if insufficient by themselves, might just be enough to pave the road for someone else to finish the job.”

That shut Izuku up. That was… a wake-up call, all right. Heroes got hurt on the job commonly, sometimes they ended up maimed, sometimes… Sometimes they lost their lives on the line of duty. One never really thought about that, when pursuing a dream. One focused on the chance of making it, or not making it, but never really… on the possibility of it just going wrong. Of biting more than one could chew. Was it… stupidity? Frivolity? Short-sighted optimism?

“You are right.” All Might went on, undeterred. “The path you would have to tread to become a hero would be bumpy, bumpier than most. But a hero’s path - any hero’s path - isn’t just bumpy, it’s an uphill climb riddled with chasms. No one reaches the end, or even the midpoint, without sacrifices and gambles. Dire ones, whose outcomes affect other people more often and more gravely than they affect you. If this-” All Might tapped the dirty maneki-neko with his boot, and then drew an all-encompassing gaze at the mounds of refuse surrounding them, “...Is where you draw the line between an acceptable sacrifice for a possible success, and a fruitless endeavor unworthy of your effort, then I’m afraid you are grossly underestimating the import of the profession.”

Izuku couldn’t hold All Might’s gaze any more. His eyes dropped to the ground and he exhaled sharply, burning with shame. He couldn’t argue with any of that. What right did he have to gripe and moan about sore muscles and legitimate, straightforward questions, when the kind of person he wanted to become should be able to bear so much more, and willingly? How could he lose his heart so easily, at the mere prospect of some workouts and a few odd glances, when he was supposed to be ready to risk life and limb on the regular? How could he have been worshipping heroes for his whole life, while underestimating their fiber so badly to mistake his sorry, spineless self for one of them?

“I’ll ask you again.” Izuku couldn’t help but raise his gaze again, under the magnetic pull of All Might’s imperious tone. “Why did you jump in to save your friend the other day?”

Izuku gulped. “Because… I messed up. And he was suffering because of it. Because of me.”

“How did you mess up?”

“I didn’t use my quirk the first time I faced the villain.” If he had, All Might wouldn’t have been forced to exhaust himself to save him. He wouldn't have dropped the bottles either, because you can’t pour a person into a bottle. It had all started from Izuku’s fear of exposure, from that one nearly fatal misjudgement.

“Because you didn’t use your quirk.” All Might pressed on, not unkindly, but unrelentingly. “So you jumped in after you chose to use it? Was it a calculated decision?”

“I… N-No. I didn’t really think or plan ahead, I just… moved. I had to save him.”

“Had you borne no blame at all for what was happening… Had the hostage been unknown to you, rather than your friend… Would you have jumped in all the same?”

“I…” There was a part of Izuku, a well-worn, deep-seated part, that almost answered I don’t know, out of sheer habit. It was the part of him that always doubted, always made sure he didn’t overstep, always reminded him of his own mediocrity. There was another part, however, that this time, just this once, positively burned with indignation at the thought.

It was the part of him that knew the real answer, because it had already long since proven itself. It was the part of him that had kept its ground, almost a decade ago, against Kacchan and his friends, back when they had first gained access to their quirks, and their childish glee had taken the shape of gratuitous bullying towards just about any suitable target that crossed their path. It was the part of Izuku who had stood in the way, who had defended those helpless children over and over, even if they never thanked him, or bothered to speak to him again afterwards. It was that part of him that just couldn’t sit still and let unfairness and cruelty have their way right before his eyes. It was one part of Izuku that still, after all those years, hadn’t changed one bit. 

“...I think I would have.”

Izuku expected further prodding, or a rebuttal, but none came. All Might studied him with unnerving intensity for a few moments, but then he nodded curtly, simply accepting that reply for what it was.

“You do have your heart in the right place, but that alone isn’t enough. Since you want certainties, here’s what I know for certain about you, and I know it for certain because I saw it the day we met, and because you just told me yourself. What I know is that, when you faced an emergency by trusting your instincts and taking action without hesitation, you saved a friend and defused a dangerous situation. When you faced the very same villain by fearing and doubting and thinking and thinking and thinking, you did nothing. You crippled yourself into inactivity so badly that there’s no guarantee you’d have made it out without serious injuries if I hadn’t arrived.” All Might let out a sigh and shook his head tiredly. “Always wait to act until you have all the certainties you need, and you may as well never act at all.”

More truths, being firmly shoved in his face. Izuku didn’t have it in him to hold the sternness of it against All Might. He never could get angry at his father either, whenever he looped an ironclad reasoning around him. The truth was the truth, no matter how affronted one got at it. It was disgraceful and undignified to fight it, not to mention useless. So Izuku just sat, letting the number hero and Symbol of Peace lecture him like the naive schoolboy that he was. He supposed he ought to feel honoured, in a way, that the hero was deigning to dedicate his time to that ungrateful task, rather than ditching him without further ado and employing his time more suitably.

Yet, even if Izuku had no doubt he was behaving like the most irritating brat in the whole of Japan, All Might didn’t seem properly… angry at him. Quite the opposite, he looked almost disheartened the more he spoke. The man sighed again and rubbed his neck slowly, apparently picking his next words carefully.

“I stand by what I told you on that rooftop. For someone who is quirkless, for someone who is that purely idealistic but utterly powerless, to become and live as a hero, it would take…” All Might slowly clenched his fist, and his eyes dropped on it for a moment, a strange, wistful look on his face. “A miracle.”

Izuku contemplated that closed hand too. With its bony knuckles and raised tendons made all the more evident by the lack of bulging muscles and flesh, it looked rather different from the nigh-omnipotent fist the bulkier All Might had shown him a few days before during his pep speech. The man wasn’t holding it out either this time, he kept it closer to his chest, like something more frail and private, to be diligently cherished rather than proudly paraded.

“But you aren’t powerless. Neither you are hopeless. You have the potential to make a difference.” The hero’s gaze met Izuku’s once again, with sudden sharpness. “Why do you want to be a hero, Midoriya?”

The answer came easily. Words stamped into his mind like a talisman, since his most tender age. “Because I want to be someone who smiles fearlessly through the worst hardships. Someone who gives hope with his presence alone. Someone everyone can always rely on. I want to be the greatest hero, like All Might.”

...It was not the answer All Might wanted to hear. His eyes narrowed. “You are facing a lot of hardships, but I’m not seeing any smiles. You speak of giving hope, but you seem to have none for yourself. And you are at a point in your life where you can’t help but rely on others more than others can rely on you. You are quite far from the ideal you’d like to incarnate right now.”

Cutting. Cutting and merciless, like only the naked truth could be. It was true, Izuku did not live up to his ideals in the slightest, and didn’t he know it.

Guilt gnawed at his stomach painfully. All Might was going to such lengths to instruct him on how to pursue his dream, he was dedicating some of his undoubtedly precious time to overseeing his pitiful struggles with trash, he had even gone as far as to use his quirk - he had used his quirk! He had coughed blood! - just to encourage him, and it had worked… briefly. He had sparked a little hope in Izuku’s heart, he had inspired him to try a little harder, endure a little more, push himself a little further… for a couple of hours. But then, by the time Izuku was sprawled on his bed that very same night, alone with his doubts and his achy limbs and the pieces of what he’d believed was his life, he hadn’t been able to hold onto those words. 

There was no sugarcoating it. No matter how much he tried or believed in himself, he wasn’t going to clean any beaches. He wasn’t going to move any vans. He wasn’t going to smash past his limits and obstacles with raw guts. Someone like All Might would, but not Izuku. Because he was not like All Might, and never would be.

It was an awareness he’d always had, shoved somewhere under a rug in his heart. It was probably the very reason why he’d latched onto the hero’s image and gestures so tightly in the first place. Because All Might was brave, strong, competent, indefatigable, optimistic, confident… everything that Izuku was not. Almost a polar opposite. An impossible dream, all the more tempting by virtue of being utterly unachievable. A coward’s dream, because it required no real effort to be reached, because it could not be reached, so why even bother trying? Why training, why struggling against his peers’ scorn, why putting on a brave front, when none of those things could ever bring him any closer to the impossible? He may as well sit tight and just wait, basking in his comfortable illusion that somehow, someday, something might magically change.

But All Might, the real All Might, the one positively towering right before his eyes and casting a long, caging shadow over him, a shadow made even more disproportionate by the sun setting behind his back, had zeroed in on that umpteenth truth without hesitation. Shredding the boy’s paper-thin delusion before he could be tempted to hide behind it again.

Izuku bowed his head, meekly waiting for the inevitable, final verdict of his unworthiness to be passed. 

“Do you want to try to give me another answer?”

Izuku’s breath caught in his throat. He did. God, he did.  He felt on the verge of an abyss, one he’d never make it out of if he didn’t find it in him to jump, just this one time. He wanted to be a hero. That was his one certainty. He wanted to be a hero. And for once, his certainty was not being questioned because of his quirk, or lack thereof. All Might was questioning his  will . Was that where he was failing? Was that, truly, the fundamental quality he was lacking?

No, the four-year-old kid standing in Kacchan’s way cried, once more. Not that. Anything but that.

“I want to be there for the people who don’t think they’ll get any help. I want to do everything I can for the world to be fair, and right, and kind. I want to be-” 

He stopped. What he wanted to express wasn't particularly dramatic, or glamorous, or shameful. Yet, it felt like the most private of things, the most intimate of secrets. It felt as if he was just about to slice his own belly open and spill his very innards before him, for the whole world, for his idol to behold. Something painful, disgusting, something that was never meant to be seen, neither by himself nor by others. But something that was, nonetheless, absolutely necessary to get out there. 

“I want to be better than I am. I want to be someone others can look up to. Someone I can look up to.”

For few, agonizing seconds, nobody spoke. Then, a soft sound. A sigh, or an exhale. Izuku dared to raise his head.

“...I like this one a lot more.” All Might said with a smile. A thin one, the barest hint of it, but one that reached his eyes and wrinkled the taut skin around them.

It stirred something inside Izuku. Something that he could not name, tight and wound up like a coiled spring. A tension. A crave. He shuffled on the sand, until he was kneeling to face the man directly, fists clenched tightly on his thighs. “...How do I do that? Become that kind of hero?”

All Might considered the question with renewed gravitas. “You ask how to become a hero to a hundred heroes, and you'll get a hundred different answers, I think. If you want my take… Whenever you see a need, a task to be accomplished, a role to be fulfilled… you run ahead at full speed towards that goal.” The corners of the hero’s mouth twitched upwards into another smile, but one so very unlike that from a moment earlier. Derision, almost. Derision that, Izuku was somehow certain, was not aimed at him. “...That’s it. It doesn’t sound like much, does it?”

Oh, it did. It sounded like a hell of a lot of work. There was proof of it etched in the man’s every dry limb, in every jutting bone, in every wiry strand of hair. It was plain to see exactly how much work and sacrifice it took to follow that one, simple, unassuming principle. “It does.”

“Do you think you have it in you? To dash headlong towards your goal without ever stopping, no matter the obstacles, no matter the uncertainties, no matter how exhausting?” A poignant pause. “Do you think this is what you want to do with your life, even?”

It struck him, there and then. Like a proper epiphany, or a vision. How incredibly, unfathomably different All Might looked in that moment. 

Izuku would never be like All Might - not like the All Might he’d always seen on TV, or admired from afar. He would never get anywhere close to that shining beacon of hope, strength, confidence, positively superhuman perfection.

But this All Might, the one standing right before his eyes, was something else. He was a striking sight, standing rail-thin, tall and proud before the setting sun, the perpetual shadows around his eyes and under the sharp angles of his face made even more cutting by the lighting, hair and clothes fluttering gently in the light breeze, but he himself unmoving and unbending. This All Might was something else, someone else, that transmitted an entirely different concept of heroism. This was someone who was not strong, not physically, someone who looked like he really ought to be kept as far as possible from a fight or a dangerous situation, and yet who braved them willingly every day. Someone with a quirk that was just as much of a blessing as it was an atrocious curse, and yet one that he used nonetheless for the sake of others. Someone who didn’t just sit at the top of the hero chart with a boisterous laugh without breaking a sweat, this was someone who’d risen to that spot fighting overwhelming odds and bearing untold sacrifices in silence and at great costs, and who clung to it with tooth and nail. Someone who had bad days and put his foot in his mouth, and was honest enough to bow his head and apologize afterwards. Someone who, very clearly, struggled, and emerged anyway. Someone whose greatest asset was his will, and with that alone he’d made do. Just for the sake of running towards that goal.

This, Izuku thought, maybe madly but whole-heartedly, this was a kind of hero - a kind of person he looked up to, and he could realistically aspire to be.

“Yes. To both.”

All Might raised his chin, eyes ablaze with something much brighter than the star burning behind his back. “Then the path ahead of you is apparent, is it not?”

It was. All Izuku had to do was steel his resolve, and stand up, and start running.

“Yes. It is.”

He got to his feet. He held All Might’s scalding gaze until the indescribable turbulence bubbling inside him grew too much, and he felt compelled to move. His eyes fell on the metallic cat, and he made to bend and pick it up and resume his task, when All Might’s hand landed on his shoulder. A warm squeeze, steady but gentle, commanded his attention once again.

“That’s enough. It’s getting late.” All Might said with a small smile, the most simple and uncomplicated one Izuku had seen from him in the entire day. “Good work today.”

Izuku hadn’t earned that praise that day, not even a little bit. But it did not matter. He would earn it twice, three times over the next days to make up for it, if it was the last thing he did.

He let All Might herd him back to the truck, and helped him gather his files and cooler and load them onto the vehicle. He didn’t climb onto it though. He let his gaze roam along the deserted shore, the jagged outline of the buildings opposite the horizon, and the road between them.

“I’ll jog back home.”

All Might looked at him quizzically. “Hm? Why?”

Izuku shrugged. “I’m not too tired today. That’s good training too, right?”

“...That thing I said about running wasn’t meant to be taken literally, you know.” The man countered with a fleeting smirk, leaning slightly against the open door of the driver’s seat. “Nor was it an invitation to pointless recklessness. You should avoid going around on your own. Especially considering the recent developments.”

“I’m never on my own though, am I?” Izuku gestured widely towards the city, and the presumably several invisible agents or drones stalking him on the regular. "I don't think this is any more dangerous than walking back and forth from school every day."

“No, but still…”

“I’ll stick to the trafficked streets. It isn’t a long way, I’ll be home before it gets dark.”

All Might regarded him in silence for a few moments, then gave him a slow nod.

“...Text me as soon as you get back.”

“All right.” Izuku saluted him with a small bow of his head, then he threw his backpack over his shoulders and started running. 

By the time the truck’s engine rumbled to life, he was already too far to hear it.

[plaidbooks]

Hey 🥰 could I request working with Sonny and you two used to date but broke up, you remained friends but never really got over each other and your end up going through a pretty bad time with work or personal stuff and you’re struggling mentally and not eating etc and when he realises he comes over to your place to check ur ok and you just breakdown and he tells u he still loves u and that it’ll always be u 🥺

Some Space

A/N: I am so sorry that this took so long! I was so burnt out of writing, but I'm here now! I hope that this makes up for the wait!

This takes place before Sonny joins SVU--and his timeline is a little wonky to make this fic work, but oh well.

Tags: death, shootings, blood, disassociation

Words: 2590

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandplaid @reading--mermaid @dreamlover31 @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell

“So, do you wanna move in together?” Sonny asked while you cuddled on his couch. You turned to look at him, and his face fell as he saw your expression. “…you don’t?”

You sighed. “It’s not like I don’t love you, Sonny, because I do. It’s just…I mean, we’re still in our mid-20s. I want a little more, uh, freedom before I settle down, you know?”

“I’ve known since we started dating in high school that I was in for the long term. I was thinking of maybe…I don’t know, getting married…having kids…. Now that we’ve settled into patrol, I thought it would be the perfect time to take the next step,” he muttered.

You sat in silence, debating. You loved Sonny, and you did want to marry him…someday. Not right now. You’ve barely lived any of your life; hell, you lived at home still. Sonny had his own apartment, but you didn’t want to go from living with your parents to living with him. You wanted space, time to figure out who you really were. And you didn’t think you could do that with Sonny. If he couldn’t give you your independence, if you both wanted different things, then you were going to have to break up with him, as much as it would break your heart to do it.

“Listen, Sonny, I need to live my own life for a little bit, discover myself. I-it’s nothing wrong with you, I promise—”

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked softly.

Hearing the words out loud made tears form in your eyes. “I…yes, I guess I am. At least until I find myself…. I’m so sorry, Sonny. I’ll always care about you. We can still be friends?”

“Y-yeah…okay, sure. I…yeah…” he trailed off, unwrapping his arms from around you. You both sat there awkwardly, and the tension was thick. You stood, moving to grab your jacket, and Sonny followed you to the front door.

“This isn’t…goodbye. I promise you, Sonny Carisi. It’s just—”

“See you later?” he finished.

You gave him a smile, and a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

*****************************

That was months ago now, and you had transferred out of Staten Island patrol, unable to see Sonny every day, those big, sad blue eyes trying to avoid your gaze. Now, you worked for Brooklyn, an officer in their Homicide department. You settled in quickly, and you found a cheap-ish apartment in Brooklyn.

It was nice living by yourself, and you highly enjoyed it. You missed Sonny dearly, but you thought it was too soon to reach out. Your heart still strained when you thought about the breakup, so you kept your distance. But it was getting easier and easier to let those feelings fade away in your new line of work. Brooklyn Homicide was a lot busier than Staten patrol, and you got along great with your partner, Drew Zimmer.

“We keep making these busts, and we’re gonna make detective in no time,” Drew said, grinning at you.

You smiled back as you shoved a cuffed perp in the backseat of your squad car. “Then we get paid halfway decently for doing much of the same as we are now.”

“Plus, normal clothes! Not this suffocating police uniform.”

You agreed, then moved to the front seat, Drew sliding in behind the steering wheel. You and Drew were close, but you never crossed a line. He was engaged to his high school sweetheart, something that made you slightly sad. Sonny was your high school sweetheart, and you wondered how different your life would’ve been if you moved in with him.

*************************

As Drew predicted, you both made detective later that year. You were officially the youngest detective, having moved up the ranks so quickly. You both went out for drinks to celebrate, and you had the wild impulse to invite Sonny. It had been almost a year since you broke up, and you could finally think about it without tearing up. But would he be okay with it? You fought the idea, putting your phone back in your pocket.

“Everything okay?” Drew asked, seeing the look on your face.

You shot him a fake smile. “Fine, fine. Just…thinking. Don’t worry about it.”

He gave you a hard, knowing look, as if he could read your mind. You had told him about Sonny, but you didn’t want to bring the celebration down. Instead, you took your glass and cheers him before taking a sip.

You jumped when your phone rang, and you pulled it out of your pocket. Your Captain’s name flashed across the screen, and you answered with a brisk voice. Drew watched and listened, then sighed when you said that you were both on your way.

“What do we got?” he asked, putting money on the table and standing.

You pulled your jacket on, heading for the door. “Body found in Prospect Heights. You okay to drive?”

“Sober as a fox.”

*************************

You both showed up quickly, seeing the officers who called in the body. Drew parked, and you made your way over. One of the officers started walking you both through the details when a gunshot rang out from down the alley that the body was in. Instinct took over as you hid behind a wall of the building, grabbing the closest officer to you and pulling them with you. Gunshots echoed in the alleyway as someone—or someones—unloaded on the entrance to the alley.

Drew was on the other side of the alleyway, and one of the officers was flat on their back, blood leaking from a bullet hole in their head. You ordered the officer next to you to call for backup, then waited until the gunfire stopped. Taking a chance, you snuck a quick peak. There were three individuals at the end of the alley, making their way quickly towards you.

You motioned to Drew, letting him know, before you reached your hand around the corner, firing blindly in an attempt to at least slow their advance. With the cover fire, Drew came halfway around the wall, actually aiming his gun as he fired.

“You got one of them,” he informed you. He got a few shots off before a bullet went through his neck, knocking him off his feet.

“Drew!” you screamed before whipping around the wall, shooting with deadly precision. There was only one man still standing—Drew must’ve got one before going down—and you shot him quickly. Then you dropped to your knees by Drew’s rasping form. You ripped off your jacket, pressing it to the bloody wound.

“Stay with me Drew, do you hear me? You have a fiancée to go home to,” you ordered, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. “Call a bus!” you yelled at the officer, who was staring in shock.

Drew reached up, grabbing your wrist. “T-tell Steph I—I love her…please,” he gasped, voice weak.

“You’re going to tell her yourself when you see her, okay?” you said, trying to smile at him.

He shook his head. “Tell her…please. I-I—” Drew let out a death rattle before laying still.

“No! No! Live, damn you! You can’t die on me, Drew! W-we’re partners!” you screamed. But he was gone. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you leaned over him.

Time meant nothing as you knelt there. You had no idea when the ambulance arrived, nor when your Captain showed up. You’re not sure who moved you away from Drew’s lifeless body, and you didn’t notice how you ended up at the hospital. You were still covered in Drew’s blood as the nurses ran tests, making sure you were uninjured. Your Captain ordered you to take time off, and you didn’t hear him, didn’t argue. You blinked and you were home, sitting on your couch, a bottle of whiskey in front of you.

***************************

IAB had been delayed by your Captain, but eventually, you had to face them. You couldn’t recall what they asked, or what you answered. The first emotion you felt in days was fleeting anger; the body that you had been called to investigate was left as bait. The men who shot at you, who killed your partner and an officer, were part of a gang, attempting to become cop killers. It was all a ruse to kill whichever cops arrived on the scene. Drew, one of the nicest, most genuine people you’ve known, was killed for street cred. But your anger soon disappeared, just like everything else.

***************************

It had been a week since Drew died in your arms. You visited his fiancée—she had already been informed of her love’s death—but you had to see her, pass on his final words. You held her as she cried, but you had no tears left. You felt nothing; you were just a shell. You stopped eating, stopped showering, stopped drinking, even water. You stopped sleeping; you just passed out nowadays, at any and all times of the day, wherever you happened to be laying. Your Captain called you a few times, trying to get you into therapy, but you never left your apartment.

One night, there was a knock on your door. You moved on phantom feet, unlocking and pulling your door open. You felt a dull punch to the gut as Sonny stood on your doorstep.

“H-hey doll…. I heard about your partner, and I thought I’d check up on you,” he said softly.

You nodded, not even attempting to fake a smile. “I’m fine,” you said in a monotone voice, ready to close the door on him. But Sonny was quicker.

“No, you’re not.” And with that, he pushed into your home. “When was the last time you’ve eaten? Washed? Brushed your teeth? Anything?”

You had no answer for him, and he quickly went to your kitchen, pulling open your fridge. Normally, you’d follow him, but instead, you went and collapsed on your couch, your legs unable to hold you up anymore.

Sonny came out with a glass of water. “Drink that,” he ordered, then stood there until you did. “Most of your food has gone bad; I’m going to run to the store. While I’m gone, I want you to shower, okay?”

You didn’t nod, made no indication that you had heard him. He ran a hand through his hair, hating seeing you like this.

“Okay…if you can shower, please do. Otherwise, just at least…drink another glass of water, okay?” He took the glass from your hand, refilled it, then came back and handed it to you. “I’ll be right back.”

You were unsure for how long he was gone; you dimly heard him come back. Sonny went to your kitchen with full grocery bags, and soon, the sounds and smells of cooking emanated from within. He came out soon after—or maybe it was longer, who knows?—with a plate of food.

When he noticed the full glass of water in your hand still, he shook his head, then sat next to you. You didn’t fight him as he fed you small bites, nor as he raised the glass of water to your lips. You tasted nothing as you ate half the plate. Sonny was afraid to make you sick with too much food at once, so he put the rest back in the kitchen. Then, he pulled you to the bathroom. He undressed you, then himself, before guiding you into the shower. The hot water brought you partly to your senses, just enough to feel Sonny’s hands washing your hair and body.

“You may have to get your hair cut short—it’s pretty damaged from lack of care,” he muttered, trying to work the knots out with his fingers. You nodded gently, letting him care for you. Once done, he wrapped you in a towel, patting you dry. Then, he took your toothbrush and put paste on it before handing it to you, lifting your hand to your mouth.

“Brush,” he softly ordered, and you did.

After finishing up in the bathroom, Sonny tugged you to your room, where he dressed you in your pajamas. Then he pushed you down into the bed.

“Sleep, okay? I’ll stay here with you until you fall asleep,” he promised.

You laid on the pillow, and fresh tears came to your eyes. “He died in my arms,” you muttered.

Sonny’s expression softened. “I heard, doll. There was nothing more you could’ve done. Just rest now.”

As promised, he sat next to you until you drifted off, your hand in his.

*******************************

Sonny practically moved in with you after that, just until you could take care of yourself. He took you to a therapist, and a hair salon. He made you meals and made sure you drank water. At first, he would shower with you and made sure you brushed your teeth; those were the two things you started doing yourself the quickest. It took you a few weeks to break out of the shock-induced disassociation you were experiencing. Eventually, you started helping Sonny cook in your kitchen, and doing small chores around your apartment.

“Thank you, Sonny, for everything,” you said one night while you were eating dinner.

He smiled at you. “Of course, doll. I care about you.”

“I care about you, too. I—I should’ve called you earlier. I was just afraid that it was too soon.”

His smile faltered slightly. “I understand. I…it’s probably still too soon….”

“What do you mean?”

Sonny put his fork down, looking everywhere but at you. “Look, I’ve…I thought that enough time had passed, especially when I heard about your partner—” you flinched at the mention of Drew— “but when you opened the door and I saw how much it affected you, I realized that…I still love you, have always loved you. You were literally wasting away, and I couldn’t stand by and watch.”

You froze, not in shock at him, but at yourself. Because hearing the words out loud, you knew that you loved him, too.

“I’m sorry; you don’t need this right now. The last thing you need on your mind is—”

“I love you, too, Sonny. God, I love you so much,” you replied, throwing your arms around him, and leaning against his side.

He hesitated a moment before he wrapped an arm around your back. “Are ya sure? You’re going through some pretty traumatic stuff right now. Your emotions going a little haywire.”

“I’m sure. I-I was afraid to call you because I couldn’t handle seeing you. Because I never got over you.”

Sonny nodded. “I never got over you, either. Look, if you still want your space, I can live with that, as long as I don’t lose you again. I never want to lose you again.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either. I love you; I want to marry you one day. Let’s just…see how it goes, okay? I’ve learned a lot just in the year we’ve been apart—”

He cut you off with a kiss, his lips soft against yours. He felt so familiar, so much like home, and you realized how much you had really missed him. You kissed him back, holding him to you. He leaned his forehead against yours, lips brushing over yours.

“We’ll figure out the details later. Right now, I just want to get to know you again,” he breathed.

You nodded. “Please, yes. I want to remember you, Dominick.”

He pulled you closer, promising his whole self to you in a searing kiss.

[mitthsyndic]

Here is my second attempt at writing Thrawn, much longer this time! Again if you have any criticisms or feedback then please feel free to share!

Read on AO3.

Summary: Lieutenant Thrawn meets the reader (gender neutral) at the Ascension Week celebrations on Coruscant, and she offers to show him around her art gallery. (Based roughly on the 2017 Thrawn book). 

Pairing: Thrawn x Reader (gender neutral, Thrawn is still a Lieutenant at this point).

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,715.

A Keen Eye

If you'd learned at least one thing from your meeting with Lieutenant Thrawn, it was that he was passionate about art. 

He wasn't simply an admirer or even a collector; he'd told you in detail about how he used an enemy's artwork in order to anticipate their tactics in battle, and ultimately defeat them. From what you could gather from his companions, this proved to be effective far more often than not. Your own companions scoffed dismissively at these claims, and not so politely ushered your group away from Thrawn towards more powerful, influential partygoers. 

However, you believed you could understand where Thrawn was coming from, and you felt compelled to see his analysis in action. After all, it wouldn’t exactly be an inconvenience to you, as he could simply meet you at your own art gallery here on Coruscant. Furthermore, it didn’t take a keen eye for art to notice Thrawn’s strikingly good looks; his dark blue skin and illuminating red eyes caused him to stand out among the other guests, and he was what drew you over here in the first place. If he didn’t appear to be interested in any romantic prospects, you figured you could at least have some fascinating discussions about the pieces in your gallery. 

"I had best follow my companions. However, Lieutenant Thrawn, I'd like to observe your analysis of artwork and the military conclusions you draw in person. Please, take my comm details and contact me to arrange a meeting at my gallery - that is, if you have any spare time." You smiled at him as you offered him your comlink.

His eyes flicked briefly between your face and the comlink, as though he was unsure how to proceed. You tried to read his face; it was unwavering and unreadable. Well, almost. You could have sworn you saw the corner of his mouth slightly upturn into a smile.

Taking your comlink and quickly inputting his details, he responded coolly, "That would be most pleasant. Allow me to check my schedule for my remaining days on Coruscant, and I shall respond with my availability." 

As he handed you back your comlink, your fingers brushed for a brief second. The fleeting contact was intoxicating, yet his expression remained unvarying. It was almost impossible to tell how he felt about the momentary brush of your hands, or if he could tell that your proposition was identical to that of a date. 

"Of course. It was delightful meeting the three of you, and I hope to see you again soon." Politely smiling at Ensign Vanto and Colonel Yularen, you reluctantly trailed after your friends, leaving you with the rest of the evening to reflect on your meeting with Lieutenant Thrawn.

**

It was late; with your thoughts consumed by your encounter with Thrawn, you had left the celebrations and gone to bed at your apartment on Coruscant. Awoken by the faint alert of your comlink, you drowsily sat up and picked it up, allowing the incoming transmission through. 

“Apologies if I woke you. This is Lieutenant Thrawn.” His smooth voice echoed out of the comlink. 

“No, not at all. And, please, there’s no need for titles when we’re alone.” You boldly suggested. From what you could gather, Thrawn was exceptionally good at reading body language and tone, so you tried to convey your desire for a more informal relationship, in case he hadn’t gathered the implications behind your invitation.

“Of course.” You were certain you could hear a smile behind his voice. “This may be of short notice, but I will only remain on Coruscant for another day. There is a lapse in my schedule tomorrow evening, and I leave the following morning. I would like to see the works in your gallery, and hopefully demonstrate my... abilities to you then.”

He was incredibly difficult to read -even more so when you couldn’t see him in person, but you were sure that you could detect a hint of flirtation in his tone.

“Tomorrow evening works for me. Allow me to send you its location. If you need any directions or your schedule suddenly changes, then feel free to contact me. I’ve got my comlink on me at all times.” 

“Thank you. I look forward to meeting you again soon.” Your comlink clicked off, and Thrawn was gone once again. 

You laid back down and allowed your mind to drift off to sleep, thoughts consumed by the mysterious Lieutenant Thrawn and your ‘date’ tomorrow. 

**

You’d spent all day debating on whether or not to close the gallery and give Thrawn a private tour, and, eventually, you decided against it. It was never busy at this time of night anyway, and you didn’t want to appear too forward if you had in fact misinterpreted his intentions, and he really was here to only demonstrate his analytical abilities. Then came the matter of your outfit; he’d provided a rough estimation of his time of arrival, so you couldn’t exactly run off and change into something more ‘date-worthy’ before he arrived, but if you dressed in your regular work clothes then Thrawn may believe that this meeting was strictly business. After much deliberation, you’d settled on an in between that appeared professional, yet a little flirtatious.

Once that was sorted, all you had to do was wait. Many admirers came and went, as did the occasional interested buyer, yet the minutes passed by slowly as you anxiously anticipated his arrival. Normally, you would consider yourself a fairly confident, collected individual, if somewhat an overthinker, but in comparison to Thrawn? You felt almost neurotic. 

Although he’d spent almost a full day now preoccupying your mind, all coherent thoughts dissipated out of your head once he finally stepped into your gallery. He was precisely on time, and wearing simple black garments that had presumably been issued to him by the Empire upon his admission into the academy. From what Colonel Yularen had said, Thrawn had been practically discovered by the Empire, as his home planet was not in a region familiar to you. He also hadn’t mentioned what species he was; at first guess he appeared to be Pantoran, yet his glowing red eyes suggested otherwise. You made a mental note to ask him at some point this evening. Furthermore, you realised he actually hadn’t told you his last name -or maybe he hadn’t told you his first name? As your lack of true knowledge about the man who stood in front of you became more and more apparent, it began to feel like an incredibly stupid idea to invite him here.

Though, it was too late to do anything about that now. I guess I’ll have to make sure I learn everything I didn’t think to ask, you thought as you approached him. His expression was indecipherable, as, you began to suspect, it always was.

“Welcome, Thrawn. May I call you that, or is that your surname? I didn’t think to ask yesterday.” You bit the bullet and chewed your way through the awkward question. 

“It is Mitth'raw'nuruodo. My native language is Cheunh, and Chiss is the name of my species.” He broke eye contact and looked around at the gallery, and you did the same. Currently, it was just the two of you in there. “May I ask how you came to acquire the gallery and its pieces?” 

Though, Thrawn didn’t appear to find it awkward at all. Your eyes locked, and that same small smile you identified the night before appeared on his face. “Yes, you may call me Thrawn. That is my core name, as Chiss names can be difficult for many species to pronounce.”

“Ah, I understand. May I hear it anyway? And, is Chiss the name of your language then?” You asked delicately, although Thrawn appeared unbothered by your questions. 

“Well, I’ve had a passion for art since I was very little, both painting and admiring it. I practiced as much as I could with every bit of free time I had, and I took any even remotely artistic jobs. If a neighbour wanted their walls painted, I’d do it for free and they’d let me keep any leftover paint afterwards. All of my money went towards buying canvases, sketchbooks, paint, brushes, even spray cans. Sometimes I’d even spray paint murals, though I think everyone else saw that as graffiti and vandalism rather than art.” You paused, and the two of you locked eyes again. He was listening intently, so you decided to continue on. “Anyway, as I got older I’d sell my paintings, but it didn’t provide enough money for me to live on, so I begged Zena, the old owner of the gallery, to give me a job here. I did small things at first, like sweeping floors and cleaning picture frames, but eventually I got to lead tours and meet with other artists. When she retired, she left the place to me, and here we are now.” 

Thrawn paused for a few moments, as though he was fully taking in and understanding your words. “How fascinating. Do you still paint now?” Thrawn began to walk slowly towards the closest painting on display.

“Yes, whenever I have any inspiration or time.” You followed close behind, intently watching his focused stare on the painting in front of him. 

He then turned back to you, and stopped just before the painting. “Is any on display? May I see it?” He questioned. 

“No, it’s all in the back in our studio. Plus, I’ve never fought any kind of battle in my life, so I doubt you’re going to be able to observe any military tactics from my paintings.” 

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Many do not realise exactly what their artwork can reveal about themselves or their culture as a whole. So, although you may have never fought before, I could look at your work and anticipate your possible movements and strategies if we were to engage in battle, whether that be in a ship or in hand to hand combat. I have demonstrated it in this particular way once previously with a friend.” 

He noticed the slightly apprehensive look on your face, and smiled. “Of course, we do not have to fight. That would not be very typical behaviour on a date, would it?”

[mcbenson25]

Birthday (Carisi X Reader)

Summary:  Another busy day in New York except that today is not just any normal day...

--------------------------------

Traffic in New York is a pain.

Everyone knew this and yet people still thought they could be on time during rush hour. Of course, that was a lie. Walking wasn't a very good idea either but it was better than traffic. With walking, you could only hope no one would run you over as you crossed the street.

Today was one of those days you had slept in. In any other normal city, you could easily rush to work with no obstacles. But it wasn't a normal city and there were obstacles. Welcome to New York.

"Great I'm going to be late. There is no way I can nake it on time," you thought as you tried to dress presentful without looking like someone who rolled out of bed. When you were satisfied with how you looked you grabbed your keys and left your apartment to work. As you walked outside your phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Morning Y/n," a cheerful voice answered.

You couldn't help but smile at the voice that belonged to Detective Carisi. It was no secret that you had an enormous crush on him. That is to anyone but him. The both of you were very close friends but you felt something more towards him. You were afraid to tell him because you weren't sure he felt the same way about you.

"Morning Carisi," you responded back with a smile.

"So Lui is wondering where you are 'cause we thought you were coming with us this morning for coffee."

Right. You were going to get coffee with them today.

"Oh um can you tell Liv I'm running a little late?" you asked him.

"Sure. Don't worry about it," Carisi told you.

"Okay, thanks. See you later."

"Bye."

After you hung up you yet again, debated on taking a taxi or walking. Traffic still didn't look friendly enough to be in a taxi so you walked.

On your way to the station, you decided to stop for coffee since you were not going to be able to catch up with the rest of the squad for coffee. As you ordered you spotted Barba sitting at a table with coffee. He glanced up and saw you and you approached him.

"Hey weren't you supposed to go out for coffee with them?" he asked you.

"Yeah I woke up a little late so I couldn't," you explained to him, pausing before saying, "Weren't you supposed to go too?"

"I couldn't because I had an errand to run this morning," he said simply before taking a drink of coffee.

"That's weird. Barba never misses coffee with us. Plus what errand did he have to get done so early in the morning? You thought to yourself. Probably some court stuff before work. You glanced at your watch realizing you needed to start heading towards the station if you wanted to get there at a decent time.

"Well I'll see you later then," you said to him getting ready to leave but as you turned around he grabbed your wrist.

"Actually Liv just texted me that there's a problem at the courthouse and she wants you to come with me," he said.

Confused you checked your phone to see if she had texted you but the screen was blank.

"Well she didn't-," you were cut off by Barba who grabbed your arm and said, "Come on we have to go."

"Okay Mr. Grabby I heard you, chillax with the grip," you said to him as you tried to pull out.

He chuckled as he let you go, "Just making sure your coming". As you both walked out you could have sworn that in the distance you saw Carisi with a huge red bundle walking towards the coffee shop but quickly dismissed it when Barba engaged you in conversation. ------------------------------------------------------ "Picking up some papers? That was the big emergency?" you asked frustrated as Barba received the papers he had requested.

"Not just any papers. They are case papers," he said.

"That you could have literally picked up by yourself."

"Well it wasn't my call it was-," he was cut off by the ring of his phone.

"Thank God you finally called I can't stand her any longer," he said pretending to be annoyed," Okay we're on our way".

"What's up?" you asked.

"We have to go to the station. There's a little surprise waiting for you."

------------------------------------------------------ "This better is worth all this running around," you say as you both walk into the station.

"SURPRISE!" the squad exclaims as they throw confetti at you which causes you to jump.

"Holy cow. You all scared me," you say as you clutch your chest recovering from the scare it gave you.

"We didn't mean to scare you!" Liv said as she pulled you into a hug.

"What is this all about?" you asked as Olivia let you out of her embrace, confused as to why they had planned this for you.

She looked at you confused. "Isn't it your birthday today?"

You were quiet for a moment as it dawned on you. You had been so busy lately you had completely forgotten about your own birthday.

"I forgot about my own birthday," you said quietly.

"That's what we're here for," Amanda said hitting your arm lightly, "to keep you on track and make sure you don't marry your job."

"That's so sweet of you guys. Thank you so much," you said happily.

Someone behind you cleared their throat making you turn around.

Standing there was Carisi holding a huge bunch of red roses.

"Happy Birthday to the most brilliant, beautiful woman ever," he said as he handed you the roses.

"Thank you so much," you said as you felt your cheeks heat up.

He smiled before saying, "I have one more present for you," he said as he enlaced his hand with yours, "Y/n I have had the honor of being with you for so long but I have felt something I have never felt before and the truth is that I love you more than anything in the word and I would love for you to be my girlfriend."

You stood there shocked not being able to believe what had just happened.

"You know, I think he's waiting for an answer," Barba said to you.

You glared at him before turning back to Carisi and saying, "Yes I would love that!"

He smiled as he pulled you into a hug as whispered so only you could hear, "I love you."

You pulled him for a kiss. This was by far the best birthday present ever.

[kiribaku-queen]

Secret Hero [5/10]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader, Ushijima x reader

Angst, Drama, AU

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: very Ushijima focused this chapter. I loved seeing all the guesses and everyone pretty much guessed right! Great detectives skills, loves! Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Summary:  After becoming the number 2 hero, Bakugou accomplished everything he ever wanted. He beat Deku in a few matches, even if he wasn’t the number 1 hero. He got all the fame, beat countless villains, was acknowledged by all his friends and family. But he wasn’t satisfied. He wasn’t happy. Bakugou realized that this wasn’t the life he wanted. So he left the life of a hero and decided to hide to live the rest of his life as a normal person.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

After lunch with your family, it was clear that you were not feeling the best. All those comments about your weight and your career and everything you were doing wrong was going to your head. You cut breakfast out of your daily routine, as well as lunch. Even if you did eat lunch, you ate very minimal. Dinner was a different story. You were eating a normal portion but never to the point where you were stuffed. Your days were very fatigued and you could feel yourself losing energy to perform simple tasks. But if that’s what you had to do to get skinny, then you would do it. Beauty is pain, as one would say.

But your mother couldn’t get the hint. Since you took up on her offer to meet the boy she wants you to meet oh so badly, she’s been bugging you nonstop to meet him and his mother for a nice lunch. And so here you were, standing in front of the restaurant your mother picked.

“Be on your best behavior, dear,” your mother warned. You knew she wanted this meeting to go well, but now you were starting to take back your words. You were nervous for sure. You had no idea who this guy was. You didn’t know what he looked like, what he did for a living, his hobbies, nothing. Your mom left it to be a surprise till the very end and the anticipation was killing you.

“I know, mother,” you say. Well, time to put your mask on. All you had to do was meet this guy for your mother’s sake and hope that after this, she will leave you alone. Or not. But you would worry about that later.

You enter the beautifully aesthetic restaurant. Colors of gold and white covered the walls and ceiling, a chandelier hung in the middle of the room. Each table was organized neatly with the correct silverware, napkin and plates. Bouquets of fresh flowers sat at each table which set the atmosphere nicely. The waitress took you two to a private area where you were to meet this boy. As you walked to your destination, you looked around the restaurant. Neat, organized, everything looked exactly the same. Someone who was not raised in this environment might think coming here was a treat and would be lucky to dine here. But no matter how beautiful everything might look, you felt it was suffocating. Like you always had to act a certain way because you lived in luxury. But that wasn’t you.

You and your mother arrived at the private room, your guests waiting patiently for you. As soon as you guys opened the door, the man and his mother stood up to greet you two. Your mother and the other woman happily greeted each other, giving each other a hug and a kiss on each cheek. The man you were meeting bowed to show his respect and softly introduced himself.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi,” you heard him say.

“Yes, and this is my daughter, (y/n),” your mother introduced you. But when she saw you still standing by the door, she clicked her tongue in disapproval, snapping you out of your daze. “Honey, come introduce yourself.” You bowed back at both of them and finally looked up to introduce yourself.

“(y/n), pleasure to meet you,” you say in your most fake voice. It took you years to perfect it and people believed it every time. You looked at the other mother and she came to embrace you in a hug.

“You are more gorgeous in real life than in your pictures,” she complimented you. Yikes, they’ve seen pictures of you? You bet that they just really want you two to be together, that’s why she’s complimenting you so graciously. Your gaze moves from the woman to the man you were supposed to meet. And boy oh boy were you in for a surprise. You tried not to show it, but your eyes widened slightly when you saw who you were meeting.

Tall. Stoic face. Olive brown hair. He was the guy who ran into you the other day! And didn’t apologize! Your mom wanted you to meet this guy? This was going to be an awkward lunch.

“Nice to meet you,” you say to Ushijima, despite starting to have petty feelings for him.

“Likewise,” he says back with his deep ass voice.

“Let’s order, shall we?” your mother clapped her hands, clearly very excited for this encounter to finally happen. Every is in agreeance and takes a seat at the table. But before you could sit down, Ushijima comes over to your side to pull out your chair for you. That made both women very excited.

“My, what a gentleman!” your mother in absolutely in love right now. You accept his offer with an awkward smile and sit down, Ushijima scooting your seat in at the same time. He goes back around to sit back in his seat, but is keeping eye contact with you the entire time. It makes you start having cold sweat. Does he recognize you? Does he remember how you acted and practically embarrassed yourself that day? You pray that that wasn’t the case.

“Tell us, Ushijima. How is your work life?” your mother started the conversation. If you knew any better, she was basically interviewing him.

“I just got promoted at my father’s company. So I am head of the new office in town that I believe (y/n) resides in,” Ushijima informs. Upon hearing your name, you look up at him only to find him already looking at you. That got you embarrassed and so you immediately looked back down.

“Ah, is it that new office that Momo works at?” your mother was starting to connect the dots.

“Momo Yaoyorozu? She is actually my secretary.” Oh perfect. He’s already come into contact with the gorgeous Momo. There’s no way he was falling for you now. You might as well stop trying because you already lost, again.

“I’d actually like to know what Miss (y/n) does for a living,” Ushijima turns his attention to you, waiting for your answer. You looked surprised, not expecting for him to take any interest in you.

“Oh, uhm. I’m a teacher,” you quietly say, a bit embarrassed that you had to say what your profession was. You were already put down by your family for that. You didn’t need to hear it again, especially from strangers that you just met and who don’t even know you.

“So you like kids?” he asks.

“Yeah, I do. I love being around them,” you started to get excited. You loved talking about your kids and how proud they made you. But you physically had to stop yourself. He probably wasn’t interested in hearing your stories anyway.

“I think that’s very admirable,” Ushijima compliments you, giving you an encouraging smile. And that threw you off guard. It actually made you more nervous. “Tell me more.” He insisted. You looked and your mother and then at Ushijima’s mother. They were both looking at you as if to say that they were interesting in hearing more from you.

So you gave a few stories about the kids in your classroom. How sometimes they can make your stomach hurt from laughter or how proud you were every time they learned something new. With each story, your eyes lightened up and Ushijima was silently listening to every word that you were saying. You were surprised that he didn’t interrupt one bit because you were just so excited to talk about something you were just so passionate in.

“You two fit so well. I think this is going to be a beautiful marriage,” Ushijima’s mother clapped her hands in satisfaction. Your mouth dropped and your eyes immediately went to your mother, who was actively avoiding you.

“Mother,” you harshly whispered her name. You simply just wanted to meet him, not get engaged with him. And she knew that, yet she just pulled you right into her trap.

“Why don’t you two take a walk in the garden. Get some alone time,” your mother was avoiding the situation. She looked pleadingly at Ushijima who got the hint. He stood up and made his way to you, sticking out his hand for you to take. You groan internally, taking a mental note to confront your mother later. You take his hand as he escorts you out into the garden. The mothers watch as their children walk away.

“They’ll be fine,” they reassured themselves, taking a sip of tea and starting their own conversations.

Ushijima takes you around the small garden they had in the back of the restaurant. Of course they had something like this. Flowers and plants engulfed you at every which angle. The beauty in front of you doesn’t distract you from what his mother just announced. An engagement?

“I’m so sorry. They must have forced you into this too,” you assumed, apologizing for this situation. But why were you even apologizing. You didn’t have anything to do with this. Just like him, you were also the victim.

“Just a little bit,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. “But, I’m willing to try if you are.” You stop in your tracks to snap your head to see if he was joking. It was hard to tell by the poker face he was wearing.

“You actually want to do this?” you question his mentality.

“Why not? We both can’t find someone, so why not do the alternative?” he shrugs it off like it was nothing. But you still couldn’t wrap your head around in.

“How do you know I can’t find someone?” you challenge him, feeling a bit insulted. You mean… it’s true but he didn’t have to call you out like that.

“Then why would your parents put you up to something like this,” he points out. Yeah, he had a point. But still! You didn’t want to admit that you couldn’t find someone in your life. But if this was the only way…

“Mhm, I can try. But I can’t guarantee that anything will happen,” you gave him a fair warning.

“That’s okay,” he says and moves so that he’s in front of you. “Because I want to make this work. And then I’m going to make you fall in love with me. And repropose when it’s the right time.” You stared into his olive brown eyes. He meant every word of it. And as sweet and romantic that may sound, your heart didn’t skip a beat. You wanted it to so badly, but it doesn’t.

 “Mother isn’t this a bit too soon?” you asked your mother on the phone. You were standing outside what you thought was an office building, but it instead wounded up to be a bridal boutique.

“Well if I told you, then you wouldn’t have gone! Hurry inside, your appointment should be starting soon,” and hung up soon after. You sighed, putting your phone away in your purse. You’ve only met your fiancé for a few weeks now and you’re already trying on wedding dresses so soon? Not only did you not feel confident, but you were discouraged because you were alone. You didn’t have anybody by your side, not even your mother. It was very tempting to leave and come back sometime later, but you could never go against your mother. If she found out that you missed your appointment, she would go ballistic on you. With a regretful sigh, you entered the boutique.

“Welcome!” the lady at the front desk greeted you.

“Uhm, hi. I have an appointment,” you say very softly.

“(y/n) right?” she asks, like she knew who you were already. You nodded your head, confused and shocked how she knew your name.

“Perfect, right this way!” her cheery voice rang in your ear. It was the same fake voice you used whenever you are with your family. Gross. She takes you over to a private room where many dresses are already laid out.

“Now, (y/n). What kind of dress are we looking for?” she asks. And it left you wondering. What did you want? The news of marriage was so sudden that you didn’t have time to think of what you wanted. You just assumed that the older adults would take care of it and you were just there for the ride.

“I’m actually not sure,” you say embarrassed. Your consultant was probably judging you by now.

“That’s okay! We can try on a few and decide what you like and don’t like and go from there.” The consultant smiled at you, not a single ounce of judgment on her face.

So you tried on many dresses. The big, poofy, traditional style wedding dresses looked horrendous on you. The fishtail was interesting but you didn’t like it. Lace looked old. You were starting to feel like finding a nice dress for you was hopeless.

“So, tell me about the groom,” your consultant started a conversation while fitting you into your next dress. Gosh, what do you say to that? Do you just confess and say that, oh it was an arranged marriage I don’t know this man at all?

“He’s very handsome and nice,” you decided to say. You weren’t wrong. Ushijima was very handsome and from those interaction that you did have with him, he was pretty nice. So technically, you weren’t lying.

“Are you excited for your wedding?” she asks another question.

“Not really,” you blurted out without even thinking. You realized your mistake, now having said too much and covered your mouth. She starts to laugh which throws your off guard.

“I can tell,” she says. It was like the information you told her didn’t surprise her at all.

“You can?”

“Of course. The look on your face as you came in today, the way you talked about your husband and the fact that you brought nobody with you? It was clear as day, honey. But we get those kinds of brides all the time. You may not love the man you’re about to marry, but you still deserve to look beautiful on your wedding day.” She advices, tightening up the last bit of the dress.

“Okay, how about this one?” your consultant backed away and you saw yourself in the mirror. It had a corset bodice that hugged your waist beautifully. Embroidered flowers covered the top, all the way down to half of the dress and slowly faded out. The skirt was flowy and had a long train. The dress was beyond gorgeous. And for once, you thought you looked really pretty. You couldn’t stop looking at yourself in the mirror.

“Wow,” you breathed. You looked completely different, like you haven’t seen this side of you before.

“I knew you’d like it. I’ll be right back. I’m going to bring a veil to bring the whole thing together,” she says and quickly runs out of the private dressing room to retrieve the item. You’re left mesmerized by the sight of you that you didn’t even notice someone come in.

“You look stunning,” a deep voice comes out of nowhere, scaring the living shit out of you. You turn around and Ushijima is standing there with his arms crossed, an amused look on his face.

“Ushijima!” you scream his name, covering your heart with your hand. “You scared me!” He laughs at your response, a chuckle coming from deep in his throat.

“Sorry,” he simply said, making his way to stand next to you. He looked like he just got out of work since he was wearing a suit. He looked clean and well put together. And when he stood next to you, it was like seeing you already at the wedding.

“Is this what we are going to look like at the wedding?” you joke. You thought it was funny how you two looked dressed for the occasion.

“No,” he said, wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. “Because you’re going to look even more gorgeous than you do now.” His low, deep voice tickled your ear, making you feel a little nervous. You get a glimpse of him in the mirror and you had to look away when you saw that he was staring right back at you.

“Okay, I think this one oh-” your consultant comes back in with the veil and is surprised to see that you have company. And it looks like she was ruining a special moment too. “I can just come back.” She says as she’s already backing out the door.

“Oh, no it’s fine,” you reassure her, slapping Ushijima’s hands away.

“We’ll take it,” he tells the consultant and gives her his credit card. She gladly accepts and is about to ring up the charge. While you were getting changed into your regular clothes, Ushijima was walking around the part of the shop where they sell other kinds of dresses. He comes across this one blue, off the shoulder dress and picks it up. Then he’s on his way back to the register with the dress in hand.

“This one as well,” he puts the dress on the counter. It might have been an impulse buy but he knew that it was going to look amazing on you at the party.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Starting from tomorrow, I will be releasing those requests every day until they are all out there. So look forward to much content from me this week. And as always, I’d love to hear what you have to say or what you think about the chapter :)

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @simpforeveryone @bakasbitch18 @sam-i-am-1025

[lils-writes-stuff]

All That Remains

Spencer Reid x reader

Best Years Season 2 part seven | part six | part five | part four | part three | part two | part one | season one

summary: it’s the readers first day back on the job and the case has a huge plot twist

warning: normal criminal minds things, angst, sadness, gore, fun stuff

A/N: based on season 8 episode episode 14

 “Oh my god, okay I know I’ve seen it before, but the ring is just so beautiful on you,” Penelope gushed as she held Y/N’s that adorned her new engagement ring. 

 The women of the BAU gathered around her on her first day back to admire the ring. Of course, JJ and Penelope had seen it at least once before, but it was a whole different experience seeing it on her hand.

 It had been a total of three weeks since Y/N was discharged from the hospital and she was so excited to get back to work. She couldn’t deal with leave again and since she was fine mentally, all she had to do was wait until she was fine physically. 

 Spencer tended to her needs every waking moment he was home, much to her detest. He even thought about having her call her mother to stay with her until she was completely healed, but he revoked his idea when she gave him a not-so-loving look. But she was grateful none the less for his love and care for her. She was concerned about him though, sure she was stabbed, but he was the one kidnapped. After Spencer’s psych evaluation, he was deemed fit to go back to work. Y/N was very jealous when he got to go back. 

 “Thank you,” Y/N blushed as her hand moved to Blake to look at the ring.

 “He really did a good job of picking it out,” she declared as she examined the ring. 

 “Who knew Spence had such good taste?” JJ remarked, making the other women laugh. 

  Spencer heard the last of the conversation and naturally gave his actual reasoning for his choice. “It actually has nothing to do with taste, I made a decision by averaging all of her jewelry together and using an equation to evaluate which rings--”

 JJ coughed making Spencer stop. “Spence, I was joking, you did a great job.”

 “Right,” Spencer smiled sheepishly. 

 “It’s okay, Bubs, I think it was really cool how you chose it,” Y/N reassured the man’s insecurities. 

 He smiled at the compliment and then turned to Rossi as his voice was heard coming down the steps. 

 “Okay, okay, I know I saw it at the hospital that day, but you have to let me see it again,” Rossi spoke quickly as he came over to look at the ring again.

 Y/N laughed and held out her hand for him to see. 

 “It’s very you, Y/N,” Rossi commented as he looked at the ring. “Congratulations you two, again.” 

 “Thanks Rossi,” Spencer smiled at the man gratefully. 

 “Hey, you know what we should do?” JJ asked, gaining the attention of the rest of them. “We should have an engagement party!” 

 “Oh my gosh that is a great idea!” Penelope exclaimed, bouncing on her toes happily. “We can have little cupcakes made with rings and all the fun stuff.”

 “And I’ll host it,” Rossi said happily, turning to the couple who were just watching the plan being made.

 “Oh, Rossi, you don’t have to-” 

 “No, no, I insist, it’ll be a great time!” Rossi cut Y/N off from her protest. 

 Y/N turned her head to look at Spencer, wanting his input on the idea. Spencer simply shrugged, muttering a ‘why not’. The both of them knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

 “Okay, sure, that’d be fun,” Y/N agreed with a smile. 

 “Excellent,” Rossi said with a nod. 

 “Guys,” Hotch said, nodding to the round table room.  

-------------

 “911 what’s your emergency?” The operator’s voice spook. 

 A pause then an inaudible mutter.

 “Hello? What’s your emergency?”

 “They’re gone,” The man on the other line responded. “My girls are gone. I need your help.”

 “When you say girls, do you mean your daughters?” 

 “Yes.” 

 “All right, I need you to stay on the line, sir. Please confirm where you’re calling from.”

 “1721 Hillcrest Drive, this can’t be happening.” 

 “What’s your name, sir?” 

 “Bruce. Bruce Morrison.”

 “How old are your daughters, Mr. Morrison?”

 “Thirteen and Seventeen.” 

 “When was the last time you saw them?”

 “They went to bed around 9:30. No, wait, it was Monday. Sarah has a study group, so it was more like 10:00.”

 “Sir, today is Wednesday. You haven’t seen them since Monday?”

 “No. No, that can’t be right.”

 “I’m sorry, sir, but it is. The police have been alerted, sir, and they’re on their way.” 

 “That call came in an hour ago,” Hotch said, stopping the recording. 

 The rest of the team sat in stunned silence as they listened to the message. 

 “How does a single father lose his teenage daughters for thirty-six hours?” JJ asked in disbelief. 

 “He doesn’t,” Rossi shook his head. 

 “His girls are gone,” Blake repeated the phrasing of Bruce on the phone. 

 “Yeah, that’s strange, he didn’t blame anyone,” Y/N pointed, agreeing with Blake’s silent question. 

 “And he doesn’t use any buzzwords first responders are trained to hear,” Derek added. “He never says missing, abducted, runaway.”

 “Maybe that’s what they did, though. Maybe they ran away,” Penelope perked up. She didn’t like to hear the call, let alone have this happening in the first place, she was hoping for a better outcome then what everyone was thinking. 

 “There’s no history of that,” Rossi argued sadly. 

 “The likelihood of a stranger abduction in a neighborhood like this is rare. I’ve counted seven turns from the entrance to their driveway,” Spencer announced as he looked down at the map on the table. “No one just stumbled onto the house.” 

 “And where’s the mother? Could this be a parental child abduction?” Y/N asked, turning her head from Spencer to Hotch. 

 “Uh, doubtful,” Hotch sighed. “Exactly one year ago today, he made this call.”

 With one click on the remote, another 911 call came up. The call was almost exactly the same as the one they had just listened to. Same phrasing, same tone, just replacing ‘girls’ with ‘wife’. 

 “She’d also been missing for two days before he contacted authorities, and she’s never been found,” Hotch said, stopping the recording. 

 “This man is either the victim of a serial offender, or he is one,” Rossi said. 

 “Please tell me this guy’s in custody?” Derek asked with irritation. 

 “The Salisbury police are at his home, and they’ve been there since the call came in,” Hotch answered.

 “There are hard copies and tablet copies of both case files on the plane,” Penelope announced. “It’s a short flight to the eastern shore. There’ll be more when you land.”

 The team gathered up all that they had on the round table and made their way to the plane.

-----------

 “Bruce and Judy Morrison were well-liked and active in the community,” Y/N said as she looked over the files they had received on the plane.  

 Spencer sat down beside her, placing a cup of tea on the table. 

 She smiled and mouthed a thank you which he replied doing the same thing. 

 “Yeah, all signs point to them living a quiet life,” JJ agreed as she flipped through her own file. 

 “He’s a writer and a professor, and it looks like she got into real estate a few years ago,” Derek added as his eyes scanned over a page. 

 “ ‘02, before the market crashed,” Rossi established as he looked at the date.

 “Well, ten years later, Judy had an affair with a co-worker. A Jeff Godwin?” JJ’s voice went off in question as she read the name. 

 “That was discovered in the investigation, but never made it in the papers,” Blake said, leaning in her chair so she could look at JJ. 

 “Bruce Morrison was a prime suspect, but they never found any evidence, and the affair wasn’t deemed enough of a motive,” Hotch clarified. “The university’s put him on sabbatical since then.”  

 “He’s been writing forever, and he’s been teaching since 1985,” JJ added, flipping through the pages of the file. “Transcript says he was grief-stricken and couldn’t handle the pressure.”

 “Not many people could,” Rossi bargained. “The odds of this event striking the same family on the same day must be a million to one.” 

 “Mm, close enough,” Spencer hummed, not arguing with the statistic. 

 “Judy inherited money from her family, and it’s in a trust fund for the girls,” Blake assessed. 

 “Oh, jeez, please don’t tell me he got rid of his wife for money,” Y/N shook her head. 

 “Uh, bank records indicate he hasn’t touched the funds, despite the depleting supplemental income from the university,” Spencer eased the worry. 

 “Yeah, but it could be a combo platter. Revenge and profit,” Rossi argued.

 “His wife cheated, and he retaliated in anger, that might not be a surprise, but that doesn’t explain why he would harm his own children,” Derek added, confusion evident in his voice. 

------------

 “The oldest daughter Sarah had a 4.0 GPA, but she didn’t apply to a single college back east,” Spencer began as he read from the page in the file in his lap. “She got accepted to Stanford early admission. Maybe her father saw going that far away as a form of betrayal.”

 “The second one in a year,” Rossi’s voice posed over the phone. “First his wife of twenty-seven years fools around and then probably threatens to end the marriage. A year later, the daughter can’t wait to leave.” 

 “Abandonment could be the common denominator,” Blake agreed from her seat beside Y/N in the back of the SUV with Derek and Spencer. 

 “There is another possibility,” Derek interrupted. “Maybe Bruce Morrison didn’t do it. Did the family have any enemies?”

 “The only person that could remotely be an enemy would be Jeff Godwin,” Y/N answered, her own mind forming possible theories. 

 “Mm, looks like he had a pretty solid alibi the night Judy went missing,” JJ’s voice said through the phone. “He was wining and dining with his own wife at a local restaurant.”

 “So the only viable suspect back then was the same one we have now,” Blake said.

 “All the answers are in that house,” Hotch said as they turned the final corner and came up to the house of the Morrisons. 

 The front yard was filled with locals as one SUV pulled into the driveway and the other pulled along the side of the street. The doors of the cars echoed shut as they exited the vehicles and walked up to the detective who was waiting for them on the front porch. 

 “Marty Friedman. Thanks for making the trip,” the detective said as Hotch and Rossi approached him first. “I’ve got search and rescue combing the woods and the Choptank and Wicomico rivers. We’re dredging all the way from here to the Chesapeake. I’m not letting this guy get away with this again.”

 “Has he said why he took a day to call?” Y/N posed the question everyone had been wondering. Her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her navy coat from the cool air.

 Friedman scoffed. “Claims he doesn’t remember,” he looked back to the window where Bruce was standing, inspecting the new visitors. “He’s been glued to his computer, maybe he needs new material for a novel.”

 “We’ll work alongside your team if that’s alright,” Hotch said to Friedman. 

 “Whatever you need,” he responded with a nod. 

 The team followed the detective into the house. Y/N looked at Bruce as he eyed down Hotch as they walked into the house. 

 “Everyone take a room,” Hotch ordered and the team split up and walked amongst the house. 

 “Looks like Katie stayed in a lot,” Spencer assessed as he and Y/N looked over the young girl’s room. “She has her schedule of when she was gonna try new recipes.” 

 Spencer flipped through the colorful pages of the book with different recipes and fun sketches. 

 “She seems like a really sweet girl,” Y/N sighed as she looked through a journal. She then turned to her desk and pointed out some of the things she noticed. “Her charger’s here, but her phone is not.” 

 “Maybe it’s with her?” Spencer posed.

 “Maybe, I’ll have Garcia track it,” Y/N said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. 

 “It’ll only work if it’s on,” Spencer reminded her.

 “It’s worth a try though,” Y/N looked up to Spencer with sad eyes. Of course, her first case back had to do with kids, just her luck.

 “If the girls had access to a phone and they were okay, they would have called for help by now,” Spencer said, giving her the same sad eyes she gave him. 

 Y/N’s thumb stopped typing, she knew he was right, but that guilty feeling in her didn’t want her to.

 “Y/N.” Spencer’s hands reached for hers that held her phone. “You okay?” 

 “Yeah, it’s just-” she let out a shaky breath with a groan- “it’s just my luck that my first case back has to do with kids.”

 Spencer looked down sadly, knowing the pain she was feeling. 

 “But it’s okay, it’s just because it’s the first case, ripping off the bandaid, you know? I’ll get back to being able to carpmentalizing it any second.” She shook her hands out after setting down her phone and the journal she was holding. 

 Spencer gave her the look. The look that said it’s okay to take a second, it’s okay to talk to me, it’s okay to not be ready all just yet. 

 “Stop that.”

 “Stop what?” 

 “Stop being so understanding,” she laughed and pointed her finger at him. “I’m fine, I really am, it’s just gonna take a sec to get into the swing of things again.” 

 “Okay,” he smiled, reaching for her hand,and pulling her into a loving hug that made her heart melt. 

-------------

 Y/N’s eyes scanned over the box in the basement of the Morrison house. Shelf after shelf filled with buckets and old memorabilia of Judy. 

 “Wow,” Spencer mused as he walked closer to Y/N from his side of the room. “She had a lot of hobbies before she started selling real estate.”

 “Yeah, family projects it looks like,” Y/N nodded. She turned to the shelf she had just been looking at boxes being held on it. “Devoted mom.” 

 On the boxes were dates written under the label ‘quilts’. The dates went all the way back to 1998, the years Sarah Morrison was born. 

 “You ready, Reid?” Derek’s voice called from up the stairs.

 “Yeah,” Spencer echoed back. “You good?” He asked, turning to Y/N. 

 She nodded and he turned to head up the stairs. 

Her eyes scanned over the boxes again, looking at the only one that was labeled with a name. On the box, it read; ‘Quilts, 1999-200, Katie’. Y/N made sure to keep that in mind for anything in the future and turned up the stairs to follow Spencer. 

---------

 “So what do you think?” Blake asked, turning to Y/N and Rossi, exiting Sarah’s room. The sobs of Bruce echoed down the hall after Hotch told him they had just found the body of Katie in a river. Sarah had still yet to be found. 

 “He’s sober, so this is raw emotion,” Rossi answered as the three walked down the hallway. “He lost his legs when Hotch told him.” 

 “The tears could be guilt as much as grief,” Y/N whispered as a reminder.

 “Because that’s what we’re supposed to do when given that news,” Blake said as they rounded the corner and filed down the stairs. “I don’t mean to sound so cynical, but the man writes fiction.” 

 Y/N and Rossi nodded as they came to the last set of stairs. At the bottom stood Hotch and JJ, who had just gotten off the phone with Derek and Spencer who were at the scene. 

 “Any sign of Sarah?” Y/N asked, hopeful for a good answer. 

 “Maybe she’s still out there,” JJ said, just as hopeful as Y/N for a good report from the people on the phone.

 “Doubtful, unless she’s found shelter,” Rossi acknowledged as they walked the final steps of the stairs. “It’s supposed to be in the twenties tonight.” 

 “Now that we’ve got Katie’s body, we should run scenarios for what really happened Monday night,” Blake said. 

 Hotch hung up his phone and looked up to the group around him. “That was the lab. Bruce definitely fired a gun at some point, there’s residue on the sheets and on the boots.”

 Y/N sighed, not wanting to hear that news. “We need to get him to the station.” 

 The five of them turned as they heard the creaking of the floorboards behind them. At the top of the stairs stood Bruce, hearing the whole conversation. 

-------------

 “Alright thanks, Spence,” Y/N said, hanging up her phone and turning to Hotch. “That was Reid. He said Katie had skin built up under her nails. They’re on their way back from the M.E. right now.” 

 “We need to look for defensive wounds on him,” Hotch nodded, leaving the bullpen and entering into the interrogation room. 

 Y/N walked closer to the one-way window and watched as Hotch entered the room. 

 “Mr. Morrison, I need to ask you to roll up your sleeves,” Hotch ordered Bruce. 

 “What?” Bruce asked, turning his head sharply to look at Hotch. 

 “Please.” 

 Bruce sighed and rolled up his sleeve on his right arm, revealing small but numerous cuts on his forearm.  

 “I saw these in the shower this morning when I woke up,” Bruce said sadly, not making eye contact with Hotch. “I have no idea how I got them.” 

 “Did they happen during the fight?” Hotch asked, referring to the fit a neighbor had told them he heard. 

 “It wasn’t a fight, it was just parenting,” Bruce tried to explain. “Did the detective tell you about Jeff Godwin? You should talk to him.” 

 Hotch raised a brow in question at the man. 

 “He still coaches Sarah’s soccer team, even though it’s ridiculous.” 

 “Every time I ask you a question, you have this habit of deflecting attention onto someone else,” Hotch remarked, making Bruce become quiet. 

 Y/N rolled her shoulders, standing up straight as she watched Bruce’s body language, trying to decipher his emotions and behavior. When he stayed unresponsive, Y/N took that as the end of the interview and walked out of the room into the break room. 

 “Wonder Woman,” Derek greeted the woman as she walked in. 

 She let out a huff as a greeting back, clearly annoyed with everything that Bruce was saying. “Bruce Morrison wants us to talk to Jeff Godwin.”

 “Convenient, since he just walked in,” Spencer said as he walked over to the two by the coffee station. 

 “Great just what he wanted,” Y/N sighed, moving into the spot next to Derek as he finished making his coffee. 

 As he moved over for Y/N to make her coffee, he picked up his phone that began to ring. 

 “Hey, Blake,” Derek answered as he stepped away from the coffee bar. 

 Y/N poured some creamer into the cup as she listened to Derek on the phone. 

 “Morgan, we need you to find Jeff Godwin,” Blake’s voice echoed through the phone. 

 “She isn’t the only one he thinks that,” Y/N sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. 

 “Uh, he just walked in,” Derek responded, turning to look through the window to Jeff Godwin who was standing in a room to the side of them.

 “He did?” Blake mused. 

 “Says he heard we found Katie, and he’s worried about Sarah,” Derek said, relaying the conversation that Y/N had not heard yet. 

 “He also texted Sarah the night she went missing and then deleted the text.” Blake’s information made the three’s faces contort in shock and look to Jeff. “It looks like they texted a lot.” 

 “Really?” Derek said, some anger boiling inside him as he watched Jeff. Without having Blake respond, he hung up the phone and nodded for Y/N to come with him. 

 “Mr. Godwin,” Y/N greeted as she and Derek entered the room he was in.

 “Mr. Godwin, why did you feel it was appropriate to regularly text a seventeen-year-old girl?” Derek asked, getting straight to the point. 

 “I-I’ve known those girls for a long time-” Jeff shook his head- “Way before anything happened between me and their mother.”

 Y/N and Derek’s faces stayed unresponsive, waiting for him to get to the actual intent of why he was texting a teen. 

 “Look, I coach Sarah.” 

 “And you didn’t think to request a different team, you know, considering the circumstances?” Y/N asked, her hand not holding her coffee gesturing as she spoke. 

 “No,” Jeff shrugged. “My daughter plays on that team.”

 Once again, Derek and Y/N stayed unresponsive. 

 “Look, Sarah reached out to me Monday night- God knows she needs a father figure--” 

 “Maybe the man her mother had an affair with…” Derek began taking a step closer to Jeff. 

 Y/N took a step also, becoming even with Derek. “Might not be the best person for that,” Y/N finished the statement. 

 Derek nodded in agreement. 

 “Look-” Jeff took a step of his own- “I just came in here because I had heard about Katie and I was worried about Sarah. Don’t treat me like a criminal.”

 “Sarah deleted texts that the two of you shared,” Y/N said, turning her head to the side. “The same day she disappeared. Now that’s a little suspicious, don’t you agree, Morgan?” 

 “Mm-hmm,” Derek hummed in response. 

 “Hey- wait, okay,” Jeff stumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “They’re all here. We agreed to meet in the parking lot of the convenience store on route 113.” 

 He turned his phone, showing the texts to Y/N and Derek. Derek took the phone from the man’s hand, putting it between the two of them so they could read it. 

 “Is this a regular thing for you?” Derek asked as he read the texts. 

 “Well, we’ve met there a couple of times recently, when she was really scared about what was happening with her and her dad,” Jeff responded. 

 “What was happening?” Y/N asked. 

 Jeff took in a deep breath, almost like he was afraid to tell them. “Bruce gets...violent when he drinks, and it’s been getting worse.”

 Derek and Y/N turned their heads, silently saying for him to elaborate more on the topic. 

 Jeff let out a breath through his nose. “Sarah had every reason to be terrified. I mean look what happened.” 

 Derek and Y/N nodded, handing Jeff his phone back and heading out of the room. When they walked out, they were greeted with the whole team now, including Penelope on a video call. 

 “Is everyone there?” Penelope asked prompting Hotch to nod. “Um, this call came in on Monday.”

 Before she continued, Hotch walked over to the door of the conference room and closed it. 

 “It was made on Katie’s cell, which is still M.I.A., the only 800 number she called was the local abuse hotline. She called there a few times in the last couple of months,” Penelope explained, pressing play on the recording. JJ turned up the TV volume. 

 “My name is Katie Morrison, I called last week,” Katie’s voice rang through the speaker. 

 “Yes, Katie, I remember you,” the operator on the other line responded. 

 “He’s at it again. He’s just going crazy. He’s really drunk.” 

 “Katie, are you safe?” 

 “Yes, hold on.”

 “Hi, it’s Sarah,” Sarah’s voice came into the call. “We’re okay. I can handle this.”

 “Girl’s open the door,” Bruce’s voice yelled next. “Katie, open the door.” 

 The sound of loud banging was heard next, making Y/N squeezing her eyes shut. 

 “I said open the door!” 

 When the recording stopped, Y/N opened her eyes and watched as Hotch asked to have the recording sent to his phone and took Rossi to the interrogation room holding Bruce. 

-----------

 Y/N watched through the glass as Bruce began to remember the night as the call was played to him. As it ended, he slammed his hand on the table, repeating the same words he said in the call. He looked up to the glass, on his side being a mirror so he was looking at himself. 

 He walked closer to it, his demeanor changing slightly as he looked at himself. 

 What surprised everyone behind the glass was what he said next. 

 “Oh my god, what a pathetic little cry baby.” 

 The rest of the team that was behind the glass looked at each other in confusion, continuing to listen to the man as he spoke. 

 “Ugh,” Bruce rubbed his eyes. “I was always right about you, huh?”

 He was still talking to himself in the mirror. He then turned around, a smug smirk playing on his face as he looked at Rossi and Hotch. 

 “So you got old Bruce-y in a cage, huh?” 

 Rossi and Hotch didn’t respond, still trying to decipher who this was and what was happening. 

 “You think that’s gonna help?” Bruce walked around the two agents and back over to his chair. “It’s only gonna make him hide longer.”

 When he reached the chair, he faced the two men again. “What do you wanna know?” 

 Rossi and Hotch stayed quiet again, not sure what to do. 

 When they didn’t give him a response, the man spoke again. “I’m gonna have to tell you ‘cause the baby’s got his pacifier.” 

 “Where’s Sarah?” Hotch finally asked a question. 

 “She’s learning a lesson,” the man responded with a shrug. 

 “What did you do to them?” Hotch asked. 

 In a mocking tone, the man responded, “What did you do to them?”

 Not amused, Hotch and Rossi glared at him. 

 “I scared them that’s all. They need it,” he sighed. 

 “Why?”

 “Because they’re spoiled, ungrateful little bitches who walk all over him any chance they get,” he responded. 

 “Wow,” Y/N whispered in amazement at the response. 

 “What happened to Bruce?” Hotch asked the question everyone had been wondering. 

 “He’s hiding, of course,” the man responded. “See… when he can’t handle it, I save his ass. Bruce’s problem is...he can’t handle anything.”

--------------

 “So Bruce said Katie baked cookies Monday night,” JJ said, turning away from the board as Rossi and Friedman entered the room. “We found them in the kitchen, so that’s true.”

 “And two of Sarah’s friends confirmed she never made it to her study group,” Blake continued, her voice slightly muffled from her cheek being pressed against her hand. 

 “And that’s because Jeff Godwin was in the parking lot with her from 8:15 to 9:30,” Derek added. 

 “And the girls called the hotline at 9:58,” Spencer finished the timeline. 

 “Detective, have your officers found either gun?” Hotch asked as detective Friedman walked up to the board to look at the post-it notes on it. 

 “No, but we’ve increased the search given where Katie’s body was found,” Friedman replied. 

 “Okay so, we’ve got residue, but we don’t know which gun or where it is now,” Derek said, his eyes trained on the floor. 

 “Okay, look,” Y/N said, raising her hands to stop anyone from talking. “Whoever that was in there said he wanted to scare them, not hurt them.”

 “Katie was beaten over the head in the middle of nowhere,” Blake reminded her. 

 “You’re right,” Y/N gestured to her. “The altar could have lost his temper, or it could have been a horrible accident.”

 “But getting the girls out of the house was planned. He said he wanted to scare them and had a gun to do it,” Rossi said. 

 “And then, he drove them somewhere,” Derek continued. “Bruce’s car had the same mud on the driver’s side floor that he had on his boots, but there wasn’t any in the backseat. SO three people drove somewhere, but only he came back.” 

 “And the DNA coming back from under Katie’s nails will tell us what we already know-- That Bruce Morrison did this. SO can I arrest him now?” Friedman said, antsy to put cuffs on the man he felt was responsible. 

 “Detective, you have sufficient evidence to make the arrest, but we still don’t have Sarah,” Hotch told him, eyes glaring at the man. 

 “Give us an hour, and maybe, he’ll tell us where she is,” Y/N said, an idea in her head forming. 

 “It's your call, but he could still help us,” Hotch said. 

 Friedman sighed. “Okay. One hour.”

 So the team began their work, and they had to work fast. 

 “There’s no way for us to confirm a D.I.D. diagnosis yet, but we do know he has chronic alcoholism, Which can and has gone hand in hand with it,” Spencer explained to the team that was scattered amongst the conference room. “The interesting thing is his liver and pancreas wouldn’t have survived thirty years of that kind of abuse, so there must have been years where he’s gotten help.” 

 “He was in a program,” Blake shrugged. 

 “Eh, it would have to be more than that,” Spencer replied then turned to Y/N who had Penelope on the line. “Garcia, has he ever been on medication to help curb his drinking?” 

 “All I’ve got is a yearly physical, and that is it,” Penelope replied. 

 “D.I.D. usually stems from a history of sexual abuse,” Blake said slowly, hoping to give something to Penelope to help her. 

 “Okay, well, I’ve got nothing like that,” Penelope said. “All I have on Bruce Morrison is that his mother died when he was ten-”

 “There’s your abandonment issue,” Rossi remarked. 

 “And he was raised by a single alcoholic father, and there’s no evidence of any prescriptions.”

 “I mean, they look like the perfect family,” Spencer said, opening the file with family photos in it. 

 “Yeah, but she would have had to know about his drinking before they got married,” Y/N said as she peered over at the photos Spencer was holding. “So maybe, she helped manage him and kept his problem a secret.” 

 “She could have been the one that got the prescription,” Spencer’s lightbulb went off. “Garcia, can you run her medical history?” 

 “Yeah, hold on…”

 They waited about twenty seconds before her voice was heard again. 

 “Okay, disulfiram. Am I saying that right? It’s for chronic alcoholism. She had a 90-day supply delivered four times a year for as long as I can tell. And it stopped coming a few months ago.”

 “It makes you just feel nauseous if you drink,” Spencer explained the effects of the medicine. 

 “But she isn’t the one who had the drinking problem, he is. Garcia, who canceled it?” Derek asked the woman on the phone. 

 “Please hold while I dig.” She hung up the phone.

 “Could that be the trigger? He goes after his daughters now that he’s off his meds?” Blake turned to look at Y/N and Spencer when she asked her questions. 

 Y/N’s eyes panned up to the TV that showed Hotch talking to Bruce. Then to Jeff Godwin in the other room. “That instability could work for us.” 

 She set her plan into action. Y/N had Derek get Jeff Godwin and bring him into the interrogation room with Bruce in it. 

 “Hey, I- I didn’t- Hey, look I didn’t agree to this,” Jeff stumbled as he came face to face with Bruce sitting in the interrogation room. 

 “Well, we’re looking for Sarah, and you’re the last ones to see her alive,” Y/N said, leaning on the metal table.

 “Look, like I told you guys earlier, I had nothing to do with this. And Sarah’s afraid of him.” He pointed at Bruce when he spoke of him. 

 “You wanna tell us about your relationship with Sarah?” Y/N asked, moving her hands in a circular motion as she spoke. 

 “I don’t have one,” Jeff replied, after a pregnant pause. 

 Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “Huh, that’s strange. Why do you text her all the time then?” 

 At her words, Bruce sat up straighter, jaw clenching as he looked at a frightened Jeff. 

 “Jeff, come on, it’s not that big of a leap,” Y/N spoke nonchalantly. “Couldn’t have Judy anymore so you thought... Why not? Sarah looks just like her mom.”  

 Her words angered Bruce just like she thought they would. He pushed himself out of his chair and leaped for Jeff, but Derek intercepted him before he could touch him. 

 “I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch!” Bruce exclaimed as Derek pushed him back. 

 “Get him out! Get him out now,” Derek commanded the guard in the room to take Jeff out. 

 Once Derek had calmed Bruce (now his altar) down, he walked out of the room, leaving Y/N there standing on the other side of the table. 

 “Judy was gonna leave my boy for that scumbag,” the altar said, pointing to the door Jeff had exited. 

 “What’s your name?” Y/N asked as she watched the altar's body language. 

 “What’s your name?”

 Y/N scoffed at his retort. “I’m Y/N, and you,” she nodded, her arms crossed as she stood tall. 

 “My name is Johnny, and I need a cigarette, Y/N,” Johnny placed his hands on his hips. 

 “Well, I might be able to help you out there, even though I don’t condone smoking, but I’m sure you’re stressed.” Y/N began to walk back and forth across the room. 

 “Oh, I’m not,” Johnny shook his head. “I just want a smoke.”

 “Johnny,” Y/N scolded at the lie. “Come on. I know these teenage girls stress you out, no matter what you say.”

 Johnny lifted his head up, a smug smirk as he looked at Y/N. 

 “How do you deal with it?” She continued her questions in hopes they would get him to tell her where Sarah was. “Do you like to, um...go out and shoot something?” 

 Johnny’s head cocked to the side and he shrugged. “Sometimes, but I don’t get much of a chance to do that.”

 Y/N raised her brows in fake surprise. “Oh! I thought you did have a chance recently?”

 Johnny chuckled and didn’t respond.

 Y/N smirked at his none response and let out her own chuckle. “I think you did.”

 Johnny’s head dropped as he continued to laugh. 

 “Now, you know, I’m just- I’m curious,” she laughed then pointed to the door with her thumb. “Then I’ll go get you a cancerous cigarette.”

 Johnny smiled and gestured towards Y/N. “I like you, Y/N.” 

 Oh, that’ll make Spencer’s blood pressure go up, Y/N thought to herself. 

 “So…” Y/N trailed off, walking back and forth again as she changed the subject. “You took the girls somewhere to scare them...somewhere quiet, isolated…” She watched his reactions to what she said carefully. “Near the water?” 

 That got him to respond. 

 “I didn’t do anything but scare ‘em.” 

 “Oh, of course not.” 

 Johnny crossed his arms and came closer to Y/N as she stood in a dominant stance across the room. 

 “Do you have a place by the river?” 

 Johnny ignored the question. “Mm, pretty, and smart.” 

 Y/N gave him daring eyes, demanding an actual answer to her question. 

 “It’s not my place,” Johnny shook his head. “It’s not anybody’s place anymore.” 

 Y/N turned her head for him to elaborate more. 

 “I’ve taken them out there before, but this time…” He leaned forward, closer to Y/N this time (almost in her face) and whispered, “I got their attention.”

 Y/N stepped back, nodding her head and nodded towards the guard to open the door. 

 “How about that cigarette now?” 

 “Not gonna let you pour cancer into Bruce’s lungs.”

 The door closed behind her after she spoke and she could hear the tantrum Johnny was having. When she entered the bullpen, she saw Spencer standing in front of the glass. Arms crossed and lips pursed. 

 “Bub,” she whispered, gaining his attention. “You good?” 

 “Mm-hm, yep,” he nodded turning to her. “Just uh, you know, it was a little difficult not jumping through the glass to strangle him when he looked at you.” 

 Y/N chucked, her head dropping as she took a step closer to him. 

 “Spence, you and I both know that he wouldn’t have walked out of that room if he got closer to me.”

 Spencer laughed as she pushed up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. He grabbed her left hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing the spot right beside her ring.

------------

 That night, in the pouring, freezing rain, JJ and Derek found Sarah in the woods. She had a black eye and some cuts but she was okay. 

 Y/N had gone to the hospital to talk to Sarah with JJ. Letting her know what she would have to do and it was okay to back out. 

 Sarah seemed like a genuinely sweet girl and she took a liking to Y/N as she cried. When the three of them entered the precinct, JJ took her into the interrogation room, while Y/N stayed in the bullpen with the rest of the team. 

 “I have a bad feeling,” Y/N whispered as her stomach turned, something was off. 

 “What about?” Spencer whispered back. 

 “I’m not sure yet…” 

 As Sarah sat down, her two hands clasped together reached across the table for Bruce’s. His cuffed wrists stayed together as he held her hands.

 “I’m so sorry,” Bruce said, eyes spilling with tears. 

 “Dad, you need help,” Sarah said softly.

 Bruce let out a breath and nodded. 

 His eyes went up to the cuts and bruises on Sarah’s face and sucked in a sharp breath. “Did I do that?” 

 Sarah nodded and let a few more tears slip.

 “I’m sorry,” Bruce apologized genuinely again. “I’m so sorry.” 

 Y/N stomach turned again, this time out of sadness. Instinctively, she reached for Spencer’s hand, needing a reassurement, and to know it would all be okay. He grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together for a second, and squeezed it. 

 “What can I do?” Bruce asked Sarah, pleading agony in his voice. 

 “They say that if you tell them where mom is, this will all just-” 

 “But I don’t know. You know I don’t know,” Bruce cut her off.

 “She didn’t just disappear, Dad,” Sarah sobbed. 

 When Bruce didn’t respond, only letting out a breathy sob, Sarah let out another crying accusation. 

 “Oh God, you killed her too didn’t you?” 

 “No, no, I didn’t,” Bruce shook his head.

 “How am I supposed to believe you?” Sarah sobbed and started pointing to the marking Bruce, or rather Johnny left. “This--this is what you’ve done.” 

 Bruce just looked at the injuries sadly. 

 “You have hurt us all for a long time,” Sarah continued, her voice giving out at the end. She stood up from the table and began to exit the room with JJ. 

 Bruce pleaded with her to not go, but she didn’t listen and just left the room. 

----------

 Y/N walked with Sarah into her home, the mood of the house much different now compared to earlier in the day. The rain had died down from earlier, but it was still falling on the roof hard enough so it could be heard in the house. Sarah had an FBI jacket wrapped around her and Y/N had her signature navy petticoat tied around her waist.

 “You cold?” Y/N asked, noting how Sarah wrapped her arms around herself. 

 “Yeah, a bit, the thermostats right there,” she pointed to the machine down the hall. 

 Y/N walked down the hall, turning up the temperature, and looked back to Sarah. “Should warm up soon.” 

 Sarah stood, staring at the floor as Y/N walked closer to her. 

 “You think you can sleep?” 

 “Yeah, I want to shower first,” Sarah pointed up the stairs. 

 Y/N nodded in surprise. “Okay. Uh… you sure you’ll be okay up there?” 

 The reason why Y/N asked this was because, after her brother died, she wouldn’t even enter that side of the house for months. So it confused her as to how she would be able to go upstairs and be okay. 

 “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Sarah said reassuringly. 

 Hesitantly, Y/N nodded, her bad gut feeling coming back. “Okay, um, I’m gonna make us some tea, that sound good?” 

 “That’d be really nice, thanks.” And with that, Sarah made her way up the stairs.

 Y/N nodded, letting her reassuring fake smile fall once Sarah was out of sight. Her eyes panned over to the table in the hall that adorned family photos. Behind it was a quilt she assumed their mother made. 

 The sound of her text messages startled her. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at the text from Spencer. 

 All good? 

 “Oh Spencer, you always know when somethings up,” Y/N whispered to herself and replied with ‘not sure’. 

 About five minutes later, after Y/N had finished with the tea, she made her way to the dining room and set the cups down. Her phone went off again, this time a call. 

 When she pulled it out of her pocket, Spencer’s name lit up the screen. 

 “Hey,” she answered, her voice hushed.

 “What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, worry clear in his voice. 

 Y/N sat down at the head of the table and let out a breath. “I don’t know, I’m not sure, but the feeling is back again. She’s just...too casual and almost cold since we got here.” 

 “It could be the shock,” Spencer replied.

 “Yeah, I know, but she’s composed at the same time,” Y/N said, trying to explain Sarah’s behavior. “She has not mentioned Katie to me even once since we got here. I couldn’t go to the side of the house that my brother stayed in after he died.” 

 “She does have a point,” JJ’s voice said through the phone. “When my sister died, I couldn’t even walk into my house, let alone past her room.”

 “Well, what do you think, Y/N, Sarah pulled it off?” Blake’s voice asked. 

 “It may be a possibility,” Y/N shrugged. 

 “It’s a very detailed plan,” Blake commented. 

 “What, she knew about her father’s condition and took advantage of it?” Spencer asked as his voice rushed as he spoke. 

 “She set up character witnesses like Jeff Godwin...to back up her fear,” Derek’s voice said, piecing together a theory. “She even got her little sister to make calls to a hotline. She manipulated us from the minute we found her.”

 “Her writing suggested no empathy and no real emotional connection to the family,” Blake said, recalling the writing she had read earlier that day. 

 “Psychopathic tendencies,” Spencer remarked. 

 “Her wounds are more than superficial, but they could be self-inflicted, right, Y/N?” JJ asked the woman on the phone. 

 Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N saw Sarah enter the room. 

 “Baby, I know, I’m sorry I can’t be there for the dinner tonight,” Y/N said, quickly coming up with a cover for why she was on the phone. “But London and Jackson are there until Friday and I promise I will make it up to you when I get back.”

 Y/N then turned to look at Sarah, acknowledging her presence. “You okay? I didn’t hear the shower.”

 “Yeah, I just wanted my tea,” Sarah pointed to the cup on the table.

 “Oh, I was gonna bring it to you, but it should be ready,” Y/N stood up and handed her the cup. 

 “Yeah, I’m still here,” she said, wanting to let them know she was okay. 

 “We’ll be right there, stay on the phone,” Spencer said quickly as Y/N assumed he was running out of the precinct. 

 “Baby, I gotta go,” she said and hung up the phone, watching as Sarah walked away. 

 When Y/N heard the water running, she walked down to the basement, remembering the tub she saw earlier. She took her flashlight connected to her holster out and walked down the stairs. When she reached the floor she walked straight over to the tubs of quilts, specifically the one with Katie’s name. 

 She pulled it off the shelf and moved it over to an empty table next to it. As she filed through all the blankets, she came across a real estate binder. When she opened it and flipped through the pages, she heard a gun click behind her. 

 “Why did you have to come down here?” 

 Sarah’s voice rang in the quiet of the basement. 

 Cautiously, Y/N turned around to look at her. In Sarah’s hand was the second gun they had been looking for. 

 “We’ve been looking for that.” 

 “It’s an old house, I know the best hiding places,” she shrugged. “But you, what do you think you know?” 

 “You put everything that went missing with your mother inside this box,” Y/N nodded to the box beside her. “1999.” 

 “Maybe my dad did it?” 

 “No,” Y/N spoke before she could even finish. “No, you chose this box because it’s the year Katie was born and everything changed.”

 Sarah’s face formed a snarl as Y/N spoke. 

 “She was your little sister.”

 “Katie ruined everything-” she took the last step so now she was level with Y/N- “and my mother let her.” 

 “Your mother loved you,” Y/N protested. 

 “Well, she loved Katie more,” Sarah seethed. 

 Y/N and Sarah stood in silence for a second. 

 “I should’ve cried for Katie,” Sarah scoffed. “I guess there are some things I just can’t fake.”

 Carefully, Y/N’s hand reached for the gun on her belt, something she really didn’t want to have to do. 

 “You won’t do it,” Sarah said, taking another step closer. 

 “You need to back up- now.” Y/N’s voice was stern as she commanded the young girl.

 “I can say my trauma kicked in,” Sarah explained. “PTSD.”

 Her face then formed into fear, “I saw you with the gun, and I didn’t know what else to do!”

 Then her face went back to normal. 

 Truly, Y/N was kinda impressed. “You thought of everything.”

 Then, by the grace of whatever is out there, footsteps were heard coming down the stairs. 

 “Sarah put the gun down,” Derek said softly as he came up behind her. 

 “No, no, you don’t understand. She has a gun, she was going to hurt me,” Sarah used her plea. 

 “No, no, Sarah, It’s okay,” Derek reassured her. As he put his gun down, Spencer lifted his up and pointed it at her.

 “Listen to me,” Derek said, holstering his gun. “I understand. It’s okay, Sarah. She wasn’t going to hurt you. I know you’ve been through enough. All right? I get it.” 

 Sarah let out a fake sob as Derek placed his hand on her shoulder. “Sarah, you’re safe now, okay?”

 Sarah nodded and turned to Derek. “Okay, thank you.”

 As soon as Derek pulled the gun out of Sarah’s hands, Spencer came up from behind her and cuffed her. 

 “What are you doing?!” She exclaimed as the cuffs came down on her wrists. 

 “You’re a smart girl, Sarah. Figure it out,” Derek said, taking Sarah out of Spencer's hands and led her up the stairs. 

 Sarah tried to plead as Derek took her up the stairs. 

 Y/N turned back to the book she had been looking at, opening to a page that held trophies from Sarah’s mom. 

 “February fourth, the day Judy went missing,” Y/N said as she read the date above the necklace. 

 “Trophies,” Spencer said as he got closer to Y/N. “If the detective Friedman had ever found it, she would have pinned it all on Bruce.”

 “Damn, it’s almost impressive,” Y/N whispered as she closed the boom and brought it up as evidence.

------------

 “The guests of honor!” Rossi exclaimed as Y/N and Spencer walked into his home.

 The two chuckled and walked closer to Rossi to hug him. Rossi grabbed each of their faces, kissing them both on the cheeks. 

 “Dave, thank you so much for this,” Y/N said, taking Spencer’s hand as she thanked the man. 

 “Well, it’s the least I could do,” Rossi smiled, then turned and pointed to the room holding his own personal bar. “And I heard that there’s a special someone here to see you, Y/N.” 

 Y/N raised a brow in confusion then looked to Spencer, who had a smirk on his face. 

 “Remember the other day when you had to cover on the phone, and said something about London and Jackson coming to visit,” he beamed at the smile that formed on Y/N’s face as she put the pieces together. 

 “Shut up!” She laughed and rushed into the room, her best friend standing with her own boyfriend next to Derek, laughing about something. “London!” 

 When she heard her name, the dark-headed woman turned around and saw Y/N. “Y/N!” 

 The two met in the middle and hugged tightly, having missed each other so much. 

 “Oh my god, let me see it,” London said, pulling away from the hug so she could look at Y/N’s ring. “Oh, it’s beautiful.” 

 “I know,” Y/N sighed as London held her hand still. 

 “Now I just wonder when Jackson will give me one of those,” London laughed as her boyfriend came up next to her. 

 “Okay, no need to be hostile,” the green-eyed man said as he wrapped an arm around London’s waist. “Congratulations, Y/N.” 

 “Thank you, Dr. Avery,” she responded diplomatically.

 “And to you too, Dr. Reid,” Jackson said, tipping his wine glass to Spencer as he walked up to the three, grabbing Y/N’s hand. 

 “Thank you,” Spencer smiled at the man.

 The four of them had all hung out before. After another case the team had in Seattle, Spencer and Y/N stayed an extra day to hang out with London and Jackson. Y/N and laughed, making a comment about how she was the only one in the group who wasn’t a doctor. 

 “So how was your last case?” London asked. She loved to hear about cases and she repeatedly told Y/N that the team was the real life Scooby-Doo gang. 

 “A plot twist to say the least,” Y/N laughed, not wanting to go into detail. “I’m just glad it’s the weekend, and I’m just keeping my fingers crossed we don’t get called in.” 

 “I know that feeling,” Jackson agreed with a laugh. 

 Then, Hotch’s phone ringing was heard from across the room. 

 “No, not tonight,” Y/N groaned, throwing her head back. “One night, can serial killers just chill out for one night.”

 Those who heard her comment laughed, but then Hotch reassured her worries. 

 “Don’t worry Y/N, that was Jessica, telling me Jack finished his homework.” 

 “Oh thank goodness.”

 The night went on, Rossi had hired a catering service so the dinner was all little finger foods. Due to the cold weather, Rossi had made a dance floor in the bar room. Clearing out the tables that were in the middle of the room and leaving room for everyone to dance. 

 There was laughter heard all night as everyone danced and sang obnoxiously loud to the 90’s rock. It was a perfect surreal moment that made Y/N so happy. As she danced with Spencer, she pulled herself closer to him and whispered to him. 

 “I wish every night was like this.” 

 “It will be,” Spencer whispered back, placing a kiss on the shell of her ear as he spoke. “This is how we’ll spend every night we’re married, dancing, singing, and laughing until we can’t breathe.” 

 Y/N smiled, turning her head to place her lips on his. This kiss was meant to be a peck, but Spencer held the small of her back closer and let their lips dance together longer. 

 She giggled as she pulled away from him as Derek yelled “Get a room!” as he danced with a very drunk Penelope. 

 “I think I like the idea of us dancing till sunrise.”

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):

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[plusultrachaos]

Chaos ensues when Kirishima and Izuku get hit with a quirk that causes them to keep swapping bodies over the course of a day. 1-A is confused, and maybe the two boys end up realizing there is more than just friendship feelings between them. (Idk if this makes sense, I’m tired but I thought of it and think it’s great lol)

okay so. this turned out way longer than i had anticipated it would, remy. like. wow. anyway. um i did end this a little early, so i may end up postina part two of this at some point, but this ended up to be 3.2k. this was not a drabble like i had hoped. um so have this. it was really fun to write.

The feeling is unlike anything else. It's an odd sort of out of body thing where Eijirou can feel something change. His body doesn't feel like his anymore. He can tell something is different.  His quirk doesn't feel the same—there is an energy flowing through him that is different than the regular feeling of Hardening. 

His view of the villain is different and he can't see Midoriya anymore. It's like he shifted to the left just a bit more than normal and shrank a few inches. Everything shifting to fit his new view point. 

That's when he looks to his right and sees him. He can see himself, face curled in confusion as he looks over at...him. He really needs to touch up his roots when he gets… back in his own body. 

He looks down at the body that's not his and sees the familiar costume of Midoriya's and suddenly he realizes what happens and he shoots his eyes at the villain again who is watching the two with a maniacal grin. He hopes Midoriya has caught up to what's going on so he's not just uselessly sprinting toward someone who switched their bodies and could probably do more damage to them. 

Or he was sprinting. Because he's now facing the ground after tripping, not used to the way that Midoriya's body moves and tripping within the first few steps. If he wasn't in the middle of a fight, he'd find it funny, but his natural clumsiness loses hilarity in times like these. He climbs back up to his feet and starts running again, charging toward the villain. He chances a look back and sees that Midoriya still hasn't moved from the spot he's standing in, Eijirou's body stuck in place and not moving. 

All in all, he doesn't expect the body he's in to keep moving, but he should have because he ends up running full force and tackling the villain to the ground. Despite the surprise, he still knows how to engage muscles and hold the villain to the ground until someone else is coming to help. 

As he's getting used to Midoriya's body and holding the villain down, he feels the same feeling from earlier. That same out of body feeling and suddenly he's back in his own body and sprinting in a familiar way toward Midoriya to help, finishing the job he'd started in the other body. 

"Midoriya, bud. We need to get this villain to Detective Tsukauchi. We can figure out what's going on with our bodies once we-" He doesn't finish his sentence because for the third time in five minutes he leaves the body he occupies. He's back to being in Midoriya's body and Midoriya in his. Eijirou looks up at Midoriya and together they apprehend the villain. They go back and forth a few times on the way to where the police are stationed. Aizawa waits for them there. 

They switch again and approach their teacher in their own bodies. Eijirou lets Midoriya explain, lets him ramble away about what is going on until they switch again, and Midoriya continues from Eijirou's mouth. The speaking pattern is enough for Aizawa to understand that it's still Midoriya speaking, just coming from Eijirou's body. 

Aizawa sighs, this probably just adding to the stress that he has to deal with. "The only thing we can do until we get back to the resources of the school is to wait. And even then, the quirk probably wears off with time." He raises a hand to wipe down his face, looking exhausted. With his other hand, Aizawa points to a clearing filled with a lot of their other classmates, all in varying degrees of issues. 

From where they are, Eijirou can clearly see Kaminari bothering an annoyed Bakugou who is holding an ice pack to his shoulder. Momo is going around offering a blanket to Todoroki who looks like he is facing quirk exhaustion, ice crystalizing on his right side. The rest of the class wanders around the area in similar, but varying situations. Eijirou is tempted to go over to Bakugou and their group of friends that surround him, and he can tell Midoriya is in the same boat, but the weightless feeling us back before he's in Midoriya's smaller body again. He can't go over to Bakugou as Midoriya without getting Midoriya's ass handed to him, and he would rather not be beaten up until he can protect himself against it. 

So he stops Midoriya before they get any closer. "Please tell me you are already trying to come up with something to tell the class, cause I have nothing." Eijirou can hear the panic that clearly shows in Midoriya's voice that isn't normally shown in his own. It's very weird to hear someone else's voice speak when he us, but it's not something he can't get used to. 

Midoriya worries his lip with his teeth before shooting a look to his own group of friends. Eijirou can tell he takes a moment to think and in that moment, Eijirou is sending his own gaze to his group and watching as Sero and Kaminari mess with Bakugou who looks seconds from exploding. Eijirou sighs, knowing it would probably be useless to send Midoriya over to solve that. 

Eijirou's voice startles him from his thoughts, Midoriya starting to ramble. "Well we could just go to the respective groups as is and explain—which could lead to an explosion of sorts on its own, but it might be the one with the least drawbacks." Eijirou listens intently, even as they switch again, Midoriya's voice going back to his own. "Or now that we've switched again, we could just go and be with our friends and if we keep, like, swapping bodies, we could just try to fill in? The first one seems the best, the second one might be easier though, just because we wouldn't have to deal with explaining."

Eijirou doesn't really have to think, so he blurts out the second option, just wanting the general comfort of his friends, even if they don't know what's going on. Midoriya cringes a bit but nods anyway. They both turn and run off in the different directions. Neither of them are ready to swap seconds before getting to the groups. 

Eijirou isn't quite used to the smaller body or the sudden swaps yet, and he trips again, landing right in front of Todoroki,  who stares at him for a few seconds before offering a hand and helping him up, albeit a little confused. Todoroki’s hand is freezing still, so Eijirou pulls Midoriya's hand away fast, not ignoring the way that Uraraka and Iida send each other lost looks. "Thank you, Todoroki." He nods with gratitude and looks at the others who send him looks that ask "what the fuck are you doing?" 

Eijirou is so confused, but he can't mention anything. Not without having to do a full explanation.  And looking back, maybe the first option might have gone down smoother, but it's not like he can really do anything now. He can't just run away. He's gotta face this situation head-on, like a man! 

"How'd everything go with you guys?" It's small talk and Eijirou is trying to break the tension that has built up, but he can't do it like he normally does so it feels awkward. He doesn't know how Midoriya usually does. The group around him just looks at each other before Uraraka shrugs and starts talking about the situation that her and Koda had found themselves in. 

Halfway through her telling, he's back in his body, shivering slightly at the change in temperatures—from Midoriya's fully covering costume back to his own revealing costume. It's mostly odd because he goes from a calm group where he heard yelling far in the distance to being right next to the yelling. 

Kaminari is freaking out about something that Midoriya had said while acting as Eijirou and Eijirou can't decipher the yelling so he just watches and laughs as Kami keeps freaking out. 

Instead of reacting to the things going on, Bakugou is watching Eijirou, squinting at him. Eijirou knows that look. It's his "I am going to glare until I understand" look and Eijirou panics for a moment before sending a smile at him. If anyone is bound to figure it out, it's Bakugou. He looks back at Kaminari who just zapped Mina's horns to see if he could get electricity to flow between them, and then past them to watch Midoriya's group. 

They were all talking about something, Midoriya's expression going wild. Eijirou worried for a second that Midoriya was telling what happened to them to his group for a second before realizing that Midoriya wouldn't do something like that. Not when he left the final decision in Eijirou's hands. Midoriya wasn't like that. 

Eijirou zoned back into what was going on, laughing at the way that Mina's hair looks and at the same tried to think of something to continue whatever story that Midoriya was telling. He knew that it was only going to be a small amount of time that they would be able to get away with this before the rest of the groups found out. 

Bakugou showed up next to him and Eijirou shot him a sweet smile and went to him. "Hey Bakubro. Thought I'd bring the treat to you. Since you're staring so much." And Bakugou shakes his head and looks at him. Like directly at him and it seems that however this quirk works, it hates him because right after he finishes the sentence, he is sent out of his body and is suddenly confronted by the Dekusquad staring at him, waiting for Midoroya to continue whatever story he was telling. 

Todoroki was staring the most intensely and almost felt gross to send the red and white haired boy the same grin he'd just given Bakugou, just with Midoriya's smile. 

"I um… I forgot where I was…" He said, smiling even wider in Todoroki’s direction. Eijirou could tell something was up between Midoriya and Todoroki. He was going to do his best to be a good wingman and he hoped that Midoriya got the same message about him and Bakugou. If not, that was fine, he just hoped that Modoroya was a good bro about this. 

After someone gave some clarifying clues to where Midoriya had left off in the story, Eijirou tried to continue the best he could. It was difficult, thenstory feeling patchy and he knew that Midorita friends weren't dumb, so they could see and hear a difference between the storytelling. He was glad when he was back to sitting next to Bakugou, blinking softly before smiling. 

It seemed like Midoriya, in place of Eijirou, was able to get Bakugou talking about some dish that sounded amazing. He listened with his full attention, growing hungry with every detailed sentence about how the dosh was supposed to taste. He admired the tiny smile that showed up on Bakugou's face. 

"You're going to make it for us one day, right, Bakubro? Like fuck, dude. That sounds so good." Eijirou leans against Bakugou just a little bit, nudging him gently.

There's a small thing of relief that peaks into Bakugou's eyes that only Eijirou would be able to pick out. "Okay, good. It’s you, Shitty Hair. What the fuck is going on with you and fucking Deku?" His voice is quiet, but Eijirou looks around them anyway, making sure that nobody was really listening. 

"Got hit with a quirk. We told Aizawa, but we didn't want to panic any-" Has Eijirou mentioned that he fucking hates this stupid quirk? Because it swaps them at the worst moment, and he knows that Bakugou won't take the half-explanation that he got. He's put into Midoriya's body when it seems that Iida is scolding Midoriya about something and he cringes a bit. 

He waits a little bit, the swap sending him back to his body and back to his friends. He notices Bakugou staring at him again and nods, Bakugou's eyes linger a little longer than necessary and he blushes. 

The switching happens all the way back to the dorms. Everybody is still shaky from the attack, quieter than the ride up, but there is still the restless energy of twenty teens. 

Eijirou and Midoriya sat together on the bus, not wanting to end up in the same position as before. Eijirou was a little surprised to find out that they had more in common than they first thought. Determined to be heroes to become like their idols, to save people when people can't save themselves. That and they both have crushes on their best friends. Midoriya's crush on Todoroki is deep, deep enough that he rambles most of the trip about the other boy.

And Midoriya hears more about Eijirou's thirst for Bakugou that he ever needed to hear about his childhood friend. 

By the time they get to the dorms, Eijirou has heard enough about Midoriya’s love for todoroki to be set on being Midoriya’s secret wingman. The body swapping may not be totally ideal, but until they know how to deal with it, why not make the most of the situation? 

Plus now, if they weren't before, they've both got a new friend. Midoriya is nice and though the rambling isn't something that Eijirou has had to grow used to happening all the time, it's something that he can get used to. Midoriya is a strong person and Eijirou is sure they'll make great friends.  

Midoriya is also extremely caring and kind and so driven. Eijirou can almost feel a crush forming, but he knows that Midoriya is set on fire and ice. That and Eijirou might develop crushes all the time, but they fade fairly quick, drowned out by the friendship between them. So he doesn't spend too much time thinking about what could be and starts planning how he could land Midoriya a boyfriend. 

He knows Todoroki’s personality, but he doesn’t know how Midoriya and Todoroki interact as friends, so he plans as well as one who knows nothing can.

Simple.

The next time that their bodies are switched, Eijirou starts with small flirts, a way to gauge how far he can get. It seems fairly successful with Todoroki’s left side lighting up with a blush, the smell of light smoldering filling the lounge of the dorms. 

He meets Midoriya’s—his own—gaze from across the lounge. Eijirou can see himchaking his head and getting ready to get up before Midoriya sends his own glance to Bakugou. And fuck. He can practically see Midoriya’s own plan form in his eyes. 

It's almost as if there is a challenge set between them after that, Midoriya doing anything he can to involve Bakugou while also complimenting him endlessly in a surprisingly similar way to how Eijirou does it. Somehow Eijirou finds himself flirting with Todoroki in ways that he didn't even think about when he had his own crush on him (let him live, Todoroki is incredibly manly and very powerful. Most of 1A has a crush on him). 

By the end of this “challenge”, they can both tell that the quirk is already starting to wear out. Eijirou assumes because of a time constraint, but when he mentions this to Midoriya, he can tell that Midoriya already has a different hypothesis to why it's already wearing off on the first day. 

“It feeds on our energy. This quirk works on how much energy the affected has. I assume it usually wears off within the first day, but with the criminal’s luck, the quirk would work better with someone like Kaminari, who will stay up due to too much energy flowing through his system. It’s downfall would be someone like Aizawa or Shinsou, people who can sleep all they want, but because of their own quirks, they never have actual energy to expend. It's pretty interesting.” The ramble is only a few seconds but it has Eijirou spinning in the same kind of way that one of Bakugou’s lectures would have him. 

“So…. we are back to just being in our own bodies tomorrow?” He doesn’t admit that he is confused right out, but he thinks that the small turn of his head and the furrow of his brows gives him away. He does try to figure out what Midoriya means and he gets somewhere, but nowhere all at the same time.

Midoriya nods, his face splitting into a small smile. Eijirou also nods. “Does that mean that we should try and do something that will, like, use up whatever energy we have-” He's broken off of his own sentence with a big yawn followed by the familiar feeling of them swapping again. This time it feels like all of his energy is sapped from him, draining him down like a phone on 30%. 

He yawns again and they switch bodies once again, robbing him of even more energy. He can feel his body moving sluggishly. There is a moment of panic that comes from the draining of energy, the knowledge that this quirk is making both of them incredibly tired and knowing that he can’t get to anyone safe enough to actually feel okay falling asleep so suddenly.  

So he can tell that he looks terrified the moment he and Midoriya pass out in the middle of the hallway. His body feels like an anvil dropping, only a tool for physics to abuse. Eijirou feels so bone deep tired, he can't even activate his quirk to save the landing from hurting him. 

He can't tell if what follows is a dream or not, the days events playing back at him. He can't tell because Midoriya is looking at him with big, panicked eyes that feel too real to be in a dream, screaming at him that something not normal is going on. The only thing that tells him it's not real is the fact that he can't say anything, his mouth opening with words he wants to yell, but nothing actually moving or leaving his throat. 

Instead of switching bodies, not being limited to his own being, he's now trapped forever, nothing of his reaching the outer world. He watches as his hands fade, the texture and feeling blending solidly into his skin tone. He watches as his legs transform into a plastic replica of themselves. 

Maybe the dream is another effect of the quirk. Maybe it's trying to tell him something, but he doesn't care if it is. He just wants out of it. He wants to be back to his life. He wants to hug Bakugou again and be forced off of him. He wants to be himself. 

He feels a sharp nudge in his arm. It's not much, just a small elbow jab, but it's enough for the color to be slammed back onto him. To start spreading over his skin. 

Soon enough, everything is back to how it was. He fits inside his body again. And he closes his eyes for one of the briefest moments before he's opening them to a dark room. A dark room that isn't his, but it feels safe. 

[libermachinae]

Fault Lines Under the Living Room

Part IV: Touch - Chapter 11: Ripple

Also on AO3 Summary: They’ve only just arrived at their destination when things start to go wrong. Word Count: 2193

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“Picking up some light readings,” Drift reported. “Limited tech, similar to Vitrious. You getting anything?”

“Just a massive, concentrated energy spike a few degrees northeast,” Rodimus said. “Recent exposure, Cybertronian markers.”

“When’s the last time you took that rig in for a tune-up?”

Ratchet hated having to repeat himself, but either Drift was incapable of recognizing the severity of his ship’s disrepair (unlikely) or he was being even more obstinate than normal. Exchanging their vessels’ specs had revealed the truly horrific condition the ship was in: fuel efficiency half of what it should have been, unreliable pressure seals, thrusters that should not have made it into the air, let alone off a planet. That he had survived transit was a—not a miracle, an insult to probability and reasonable calculation of—

Rodimus put a hand on his shoulder and tried to think calm thoughts. Drift had survived. It didn’t make sense, and maybe the luck would run out now that it had been acknowledged, but—

Ratchet halfheartedly swatted at his hand, more like a firm pat.

No wonder you liked him so much. Morale officer doesn’t suit you. He failed to dislodge Rodimus’ hand and didn’t bother trying again.

“Haven’t had the time.” The sound of flipping switches was followed by a hard smack from Drift’s end, rounded out by imprecise grumbling. Drift’s report had lacked any details on the state of his ship’s user interface, but the variety of language he had spoken to it with, impressive even by Ratchet’s standards, gave the sense that it was functioning at about the same level as everything else: barely.

“Still think it’s an outpost?” Rodimus asked.

“Lot of things it could be,” Drift said, voice accompanied by a few more mechanical noises. “We’d need more info to say for sure. Or a visual.”

Rodimus considered the readouts in front of him. There were more he hadn’t read out, but only because he didn’t know how. Ratchet translated what he could, but they were trying to keep his focus on piloting which meant Rodimus couldn’t spend too long wondering about the more mystifying aspects of his screen. Was that box in the top corner a map, or a graph? He didn’t know, and he had to look away before it overtook their other priorities.

“There are also stockpiles, energon plants, and decoys out there,” Drift went on. “Traps, if you’re really unlucky. Whole lot of empty shacks; lot of boltholes won’t have anyone living in them most of the time.”

“On the move a lot?” Rodimus asked.

“Sure. Only one in a dozen stellar systems will have a planet good for energon harvesting, and then there’s having to be vigilant about competition and enforcers. Sometimes needs will change or new opportunities will open up, and a crew will split up to deal with it.” He sounded annoyed at that, briefly breaking from his researcher-describing-mysterious-outgroup tone.

“Couple Decepticons on holiday accidentally give you the slip?” Rodimus asked, just to keep him there.

“More like an entire platoon,” Drift said, rising to it so quickly that they could only assume he’d been waiting for someone to complain about this to. “I tracked them to their covert thermal operation on a smelter of a planet, got all the way in, only to discover the one mech they’d left behind was their communications specialist—it was a mess. But, that’s the past now.” And just as quickly, the wall was back up. “If our intel’s good and Grit’s got a byte of sense, there should be someone here. Just no idea how many.”

“Sounds like there’s a good chance we’ll get this thing cleaned up quick,” Ratchet said. “So long as we stick together.”

Drift’s Hm’d agreement was more than either had expected. Maybe they were making progress.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Good to go,” Rodimus said, adjusting the items on his screen to focus on the ship’s status. “Defense and surveillance up, and we’re at about descent altitude. Just give us a head’s up when you start improvising, so we can get out of your way.”

He was not supposed to say that. He shot over a grin in response to Ratchet’s disapproval; what point was there in denying the inevitable?

Practicing being a good friend, remember? That means saying no to stupid ideas.

It also means being there to catch him instead of holding him back.

It was the kind of argument that couldn’t be solved with a few pointed thoughts or memories, the kind that they did not have time for now, as the visual feed showed Drift’s ship starting its descent. They set it aside in their own ways: Ratchet simply stopped thinking about it, while Rodimus let himself run through the myriad arguments he would have made simultaneously before reconnecting himself to the present. A moment later and they were ready, Ratchet punching in the commands to follow Drift down.

The planet’s cloudless atmosphere gave them a clear view of the terrain below, its massive, dramatic rock formations contoured by deep shadows. North of them, the average surface elevation increased and smoothed out into tall hills, but where they were going the difference between peaks and valleys created a network of shelves and tunnels that would be perfect to hide a secret base in. And stealth did seem to be one goal of whoever had set up shop down there: besides the sloppy energy output, there were no obvious signs of cyberforming on the planet’s surface. Rodimus was about to suggest that only those who came looking for Cybertronians would ever notice they were here, when a glint in one of the visual feeds caught his attention. He brought the feed to his station and zoomed in. Metal?

The word hit his vocoder as Ratchet shoved them into a dive.

“Turret!”

The energy beam was hot enough to ripple the air around it. Even though Ratchet got them turned away fast enough, the whole shuttle shuddered from the near-miss. Crates and containers rattled in their restraints, and Rodimus was too busy keeping up with Ratchet to think about the sounds of crashing down in the hold. They should have been at a safe distance to avoid detection; how had they been pinpointed so quickly?

“Pull up! Get out of here!” Drift shouted.

No time to wonder about it right now.

“Can’t,” Rodimus said while Ratchet wrestled with the controls. “I’ve got visual; they’re charging up for the next shot. Reversing momentum would have us hovering like an auto-skeet.” If the console would stop bombarding him with warnings, he might have been able to make better estimates about their next move, but a ship this size wasn’t designed to be flown by just two bots with half a processor each. Ratchet was demanding so much of their attention that even reading the words on the screen demanded resources they didn’t have, so he scrubbed the whole thing until all that was left was the visual feed, the twinkle that shone just before the storm. “Diving. Keep on our tail.”

“No, that’s—fine. Aim for cover.”

Ratchet switched off the reverse thrusters and the ship plummeted out of its gentle descent. The entire world rocked nauseatingly as the discordant visual feeds broadcast the tilting horizon and rising ground, and they startled as the second blast singed the air behind them, the crackle of Drift’s failing comms suite not enough to prevent their sparks from clenching down in panic. The rear cameras recovered from the overexposure, and there was the speeder, intact and keeping pace.

“What now?” Drift demanded.

“Evasive maneuvers,” Rodimus said, following the ticker tape of Ratchet’s intentions. “Triple Thunderclash!”

Ratchet twisted hard on the controls and sent the ship spiraling. Rodimus would have been flung across the bridge had they not been secured, but even then struggled to maintain focus as they were thrashed around, over and over. He couldn’t see Drift anymore, or the distant turret: everything was swirls of color, broken up for only a split second as the third blast went wide and passed them by.

Ratchet drew back and pulled them out of the spiral, then hastily steered them aside as the recovered visual feeds revealed an oncoming peak. Landing thrusters were engaged; slightly dazed, Rodimus picked out a promising valley for Ratchet to maneuver them into. Drift reappeared in the rear feed, keeping his distance in case they had to dart again. Not that there would be much room for it, as the canyon walls rose up and enveloped them.

Ratchet brought the shuttle to rest on a wide shelf and sat back, optics dim. The constant, pounding beat of his focus dispersed, and he sunk into pillowy relief, buoyed by Rodimus’ burst of Wow we made its and What kind of gun was thats and I’m alive Ratchet’s alive Drift’s alives. It had been hard, keeping that iron grip on himself while Ratchet put in the work of keeping them alive, but—

“Wouldn’t have seen that shot coming without you,” Ratchet said. Rodimus looked away as he flushed, warm with appreciation and embarrassment; sincerity was an intimacy he was never quite prepared for. He was grateful when Drift’s speeder landed alongside them.

“Everybody intact in there?” Ratchet asked. He thought Rodimus’ embarrassment was amusing, frag him, but was willing to set it aside out of concern for their friend. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t find a way to exploit it later, but for now, Rodimus was safe.

“We made it,” Drift said. “That was more more like a Double Thunderclash.”

“Ratchet was between Thunderclashes and I had to make a best guess.” Rodimus tried to mime the path of the two ships with his hands, twisting his arms as far as his joints would allow. “It’s a Triple Thunderclash because it’s three times cooler than a thing Clash did in some fight,” he explained, since he felt Ratchet wondering.

“Battle of Ambustus Major?” Ratchet asked. Rodimus shrugged and tried not to pout when Ratchet immediately brought up an old vid file of the maneuver.

“Is the ship stable here?” Drift asked, reminding them they were here with a purpose. In the aftermath of such a close call, it was natural to want to ease back for a moment, but Rodimus couldn’t fault Drift for wanting to stay on track. The stakes weren’t any lower just because they’d made it to the surface intact.

“Should be,” Ratchet said, leaning over so he didn’t have to keep relying on Rodimus to funnel through the ship’s readings. “Holding steady for now. We’d probably need to conduct a physical survey to be sure, but I’m not seeing anything troubling from here.” Ratchet wasn’t sure of the composition of this planet, but the lack of dust in the atmosphere suggested it was made of a lot of hard, compact stone, hopefully strong enough to support a spacefaring vessel. They just had to hope that whatever geologic event had formed this shelf hadn’t terribly weakened the wall it was anchored to.

“Good,” Drift said. “The good news from all this is that the turret gives us an idea of where they have their main base; it’d be a waste of fuel to have to drive back and forth a long way. Once I’ve scouted it out and located Grit, you can come in.”

“Okay, and one more time with a plan we’ll actually follow?” Ratchet’s edge emboldened Rodimus. If it had been just him out here, he might have let Drift make all the decisions out of guilt, but the strong presence beside his mind pulsed with gentle encouragement.

Drift sighed.

“Right. Give me a minute.”

Ratchet gave Rodimus a thumbs up. Progress.

Rodimus got up from the captain’s seat and walked to the bow of the bridge, where the narrow viewshield gave him a closer peek onto the planet. The impression he got: rocks. Though the surface was painted mainly by dull shades of brown, down here they started taking on more color, hints of red and green only noticeable against the stark homogeny of everything else.

Why had the Decepticons chosen this planet? Were there fuel reservoirs buried too far below the surface to show up on orbital scanners? How would they have known to come looking for them? If not, if this was just a backwater hideaway, why the powerful defense system? Who was hiding here? And for how long? He itched to pop the hatch open and start exploring, but Ratchet’s presence kept him in place. This world, with its unknown Cybertronian population, confronted them with a new variety of complexity and danger. Though they could be rash in their decision to help Drift, they couldn’t risk being stupid about it.

Ratchet gently nudged him away from that kind of thinking. No one here was stupid. Everyone was trying to do the right thing for the people of Vitrious, the universe at large, and each other.

Rodimus cast a small, grateful smile over his shoulder.

“Okay.” The comms came back to life with Drift’s voice. “I still think this is a bad idea. But I’ve got something.”