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boldlyvoid · 3 years ago

Text

Hypothetically | Chapter 1-5

summary: Reader and Spencer were friends in kindergarten, she watched him grow up and explore the world while she was still trying to catch up to him. now that they work together, they fall in love incredibly fast.

friends to lovers, case of the week style story

A/N: Set between seasons 4 and 6, not following canon. all original crimes based on real-life stories.

Warnings 18+: Murderers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Blood, Guns, mentions of autopsy, Fluff, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, bed-sharing, Riding, Unprotected Sex, Virgin Reader, Case of the Week, original crimes, Food mention, Smut, Oral Sex, Light BDSM, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Talk, obgyn appointments and info, Home Invasion, Past Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Emotional Manipulation, Grooming, Pedophilia mention, non-con oral (male receiving), Pregnant Sex, Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Homophobia, conversion therapy

Word Count: 15k

chapter 1

It took Y/N longer than she had hoped to finally catch up to him. He seemed to go from the cute little boy with a bow tie who sat beside her in her kindergarten class to working for the FBI by the time she graduated high school. It wasn’t fair that he happened to be smarter than anyone on earth, causing him to test out of elementary school before she even got to know him.

Spencer Reid had an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and the sweetest personality to match. Y/N saw him around as he grew up, coming home to see his mom often and minding his business as he wandered around in his free time.

He liked to sit on the swings at the abandoned park across the street from her house, it was a place he would go to at the most random hours of the day for years on end. Every time he was in the area, he visited the swing. And She’d watch him from her window seat in her bedroom. Pretending to read, but really she was watching him read.

It was years of watching, from the ages of 13 to 18 when he was coming back and forth from working on his second Ph.D., and she was still trying to make it through high school.

But she never walked out there and talked to him, she knew nothing real about him other than his name and that he was smart. The town told rumours about him being an alien or a government experiment because there was no way a kid could be so smart, but she never believed them. She liked to keep to the idea that he was sweet, smart, and special.

He stopped coming to the swing for a while after they turned 18, her mother had said something about Spencer Reid’s mother being admitted to the nursing home she worked at and y/n drew the conclusion that he’d finally left the small Nevada town she was seemingly trapped in.

Y/N kept tabs with him online, as weird as it felt to her she had a strange sense of pride when it came to Spencer’s achievements. That was the kid she sat beside in kindergarten out there working for the FBI, saving lives and changing the world. It inspired her.

So sure enough, when she moved to Virginia to join the FBI academy it was the perfect opportunity to finally be on an even playing field with him. An excuse to reach out to him and catch up, get to know him. She was technically older than him, by 10 months, and yet somehow he seemed to feel unreachable, wiser and more of an adult than she ever would be.

At 28 she finally bumps into him again. She’s carrying boxes into her new apartment with help from a moving company when he leaves the apartment across the hall from her.

“Oh my gosh, Spencer Reid?” she said with the biggest smile spreading across her face.

“Hi?” he says, not having any clue who she is.

“You might not remember me, I’m Y/N Y/L/N we were in kindergarten together in Nevada?”

He takes a moment to think, she watches his eyes flutter as he recalls the memory to his mind. She is mesmerized by how his brain works, like a filing cabinet he can just pull memories out. “Oh, yes we sat together the first day and you got in trouble later that afternoon for adding water to the sand because I had said it was too dry to build a model of the Pyramid of Giza.”

Her smile gets even bigger, “yes! I hope this isn’t weird but I’ve kept up with you over the years, I’ve always thought it was so amazing that someone from my town was off doing incredible things! I can’t believe I’m moving in across from you that makes it look so much worse oh god, I promise I’m not stalking you!” She rambled anxiously.

He laughed, “it’s okay I believe you! I’m surprised honestly that you remember me, we were what? 5? That’s a good memory you must have?”

She walked over to him and out of the way of the men moving her boxes into her apartment, that’s what she was paying them for anyway. She set the box down on the floor beside herself to free her arms, “I think your first ever friend would leave an impact on your memory.”

“We did have a good bond before I was transferred out,” he recalls with a smile.

“Well,” she smiled right back, “I also work with the FBI if you want to get coffee before work on Monday and catch up? See if there’s a possibility of being friends once again?”

“Yeah!” he answers abruptly, “I leave around 7:15 normally and I always go to the little cafe down the road, what department are you in?”

“VICAP,” she said, “just a floor above the BAU, surprised I’m only running into you now”

“You sure you’re not stalking me?” he joked.

She shook her head lightly, her cheeks hurting from smiling so hard. “Promise, just inspired by you, that’s all.”

He chuckled to himself, almost shocked that such a lovely person would be inspired by him. “Well, thank you. I’ll let you get back to moving in and I will see you on Monday Y/N.” he said with a small wave and walked down the corridor.

She sighed to herself, this was going to be amazing.

---

Y/N had barely unpacked anything by the time Monday had rolled around. She spent most of her time working on her bedroom organization, leaving a mess of boxes everywhere else. Going through her closet to find the best outfit for her first-morning commute with Spencer.

Her job didn’t require as much fieldwork as he did, so she could wear anything she wanted to the office as long as it was professional. She settled on black flared dress pants, a nice white turtleneck, the watch her family gave her when she graduated from the academy and her cute healed wedge boots.

She grabbed her purse and wallet, ensuring she had her keys and badge in there before unlocking her safe and clipping her gun to her belt. She grabbed her go bag and coat and draped them over one arm, holding her purse in the other.

With everything she needed, she walked to her front door, turning off her alarm just to change the setting to protect her empty apartment. She closed and locked the door behind herself just as Spencer walked out into the hallway.

“Good morning Spencer,” she said, cheerful as ever.

“You’re awfully cheerful for this time of day,” he yawned after speaking.

“Late night?” she asked, joining him as he walked towards the building entrance.

“We had an emergency case this weekend that kicked my ass, I’ve only been home for 15 hours. Hopefully, today is just a desk day,” he yawned again. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re tired as well, from moving this weekend.”

“Oh I’m exhausted, normally I don’t leave till quarter to 8, living farther away now is going to suck a bit.”

“At least our building is nice,” he adds.

“It seems wonderful so far.” He held the door for her as they walked into the parking lot, he dug her keys from her bag, “do you want to take my car?”

“Sure, seeing as I don’t have a car, I normally take the subway,” he said softly, walking to the passenger side and opening the door as he heard the door unlock.

“Well if you want a ride every morning I don’t mind, even If you need rides to emergency cases,” she smiled softly.

Spencer insisted on buying her coffee, saying it was only fair for driving him. But really it was because he wanted to spoil her, ever since she said she was inspired by him his mind hasn’t been able to stop playing that sentence on loop. He’s completely enamoured by her, willing to do whatever it takes to get on her good graces. Not realizing she’s willing to do the same for him.

In no time she’s pulling up to the main building, both of them showing their badges before being allowed access into the parking structure of their building. Y/N parked close to the main elevator, having impeccable luck with getting that spot in the garage.

“We still have time before we’re officially on the clock, if you wanted to come meet my team?” He offered, hitting the button in the elevator for floor 3. His floor.

“I’d love to meet the legend that is Penelope Garcia,” she smiled.

“She is wonderful,” he agreed with a smile.

The elevator dinged and she felt her heart drop into her stomach thinking of how Spencer was going to introduce her. He walked with her towards the glass doors, holding them open for her as she walked into the bullpen.

All eyes were suddenly on Spencer and Y/N, so many faces she’s never seen before, and 2 she knows too well from her research on the BAU. She smiled lightly as she walked towards them all. Spencer not far behind her.

“Good morning,” Spencer smiled a small pressed-lipped smile. “This is agent Y/N Y/L/N, she works up in VICAP, she was one of my best friends in elementary school.”

She smiled, so that’s how. “Hello!” She waved, “It’s so nice to meet you all,”

“Derek Morgan,” the tall dark and handsome one reached his hand out for yours.

“Oh, I don’t shake hands sorry,” she said, grabbing her right middle finger with her left hand and smiling lightly.

He laughed, “wow pretty boy, how come you never told us you have a twin?”

“Do you not shake hands either?” She asked him, “we really do have a lot of catching up to do Spence.”

“Emily Prentiss, it’s lovely to see Spence bring in new friends.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve always admired the BAU, I’ve actually compiled a few of the cases you’ve worked on this year, I’m pretty good at finding patterns even the system overlooks.”

“Oh yes, Y/N Y/L/N, I’ve seen your name on all the emails, thank you you’ve sent some of the best-connected cases to us, you’ve brought justice to people who we would have never connected to cases,” JJ said enthusiastically, “I was actually just about to tell Hotch about the newest one you sent me.”

“It’s horrible, isn’t it? I’ve been carefully looking over this case for 2 years now I knew you’d all be able to help with it. It’s right up your ally,” she nervously laughed.

“You sent in the files on the family annihilator that was going after people he believed to be decedents of Cain from the bible right?” David Rossi asked.

She nodded her head and sighed, “yeah everyone told me it was a stretch to catch onto but when I noticed all the men were from the same online ancestry family tree I knew you guys needed to see it.”

“That was specifically interesting, the death of his own brother led him to seek revenge on the father of murder,” Spencer agreed.

“So what’s this new one you’ve brought us?” Derek asked.

“Oh, would you like to pitch it to us? We’re all here we can meet you in the briefing room before your shift starts upstairs?” JJ offered.

“Oh sure,” she smiled, finally it was her time to show off.

Soon enough, Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia and Jenifer Jareau were all staring at you in the briefing room.

“In Wichita Kansas, there have been a string of murders over the last 6 years that have all been incredibly, creepily similar,” she started explaining as she handed out the case files to everyone.

“Each victim is female, 16 to 24, they’ve all been strangled with rope while completely naked, signs of brutal sexual assault, binding and torture. They’ve all been found wrapped in shower curtains and placed in various public locations. Clearly a sign of remorse with how he keeps them covered but still a taunt that we can’t find him even now that he’s 6 victims deep.”

“Clarise Richardson, victim number 1 was raped, strangled with rope and left by an underpass. She was found in 1998, the M.E said she was dead 16 hours when they found her, COD was asphyxiation. Her family reports she was last seen at least 73 hours before she was found. So he kept her for a while. There were fibres under her nails of green carpet, either she was held at someone's house or in a van with carpet like they had in the 70s and 80s.”

“Were there any fingerprints or DNA on the bodies?” Prentiss asked.

“Yes, there was a sperm sample retrieved on victim number 5, Sharon Flynn. Most likely he wore a condom for the rest of his rapes and he wasn’t in the system already. Either he never ejaculated in earlier rapes before he grew to murder or his victims never came forward before 1998.”

“which is highly likely, we saw in the EARs case in California how hard it was to get the men and women who were raped to even come forward. There were 4 confirmed cases in the news before more came forward with similar stories. It’s seen as a shameful thing when in reality it’s just giving them more power if they believe they’ll never be caught.” Spencer explained.

“Yes, it’s very hard to come forward when it happens to you,” she agreed before quickly hanging subject. “I’ve been searching for any rapes in the area with similar MO, choking, BDSM, ropes, vans with green carpet, and I’ve found 3 women who claimed to be raped by a man at festivals the late 70’s who had an orange van with green carpet who bonded them up in a very intricate form of bondage that tightened every time they squirmed to entice them not to move. And from my research, that's the same pattern of rope as the rope burn on the 6 bodies we have.”

“All 6 of them are fairly similar it’s just their dumpsites that sets them apart. He didn’t have one strict area that he stuck to, he seems to have no problem travelling to them.” Emily said, flipping through the files.

“I’m thinking he has a job the requires him to still use his van. Like a travelling plumber, a phone or computer tech, home surveillance or maybe even he’s with Jehovah's witness or the Mormon church. It would explain him being able to get into these women’s houses and neighbourhoods long enough to pick someone, learn their schedule and grab them.” Y/N explained.

“Garcia, can you look into those businesses, as well as independent contractors, satellite companies, mailmen, and anyone else who might have been on the job by the victim's houses on the dates and times they were last seen,” Hotch asked.

“Absolutely, I’ll also run the DNA samples in my other databases.”

“I was about to ask you to do that, I think he might have children. There is a very large gap between the rapes and the jump to rape and murder, if you could run the saliva sample from victim 3 that's on her neck with any foster system or genealogy company to see if he has a son or uncle we can trace his sample to?”

“That's a great idea, I’ve never thought to do that,” Garcia smiled. “I like you, you’re a smart cookie!”

“Looks like we’re headed to Wichita,” Hotch said. “Do you think VICAP would be mad if we stole you for a few days? You have more connections with the Wichita police than we do, they might cooperate more If they know a friendly face.”

“Absolutely, let me grab my go-bag from upstairs!” Y/N jumped up, “I’ll be right back down!”

“Wheels up in 30,” Hotch said, And with that, she was out the door.

“Reid if you don’t marry her I will,” Penelope said softly.

“Okay.” He blushed.

—

She took a seat beside Reid on the jet, the two of them chatting amongst themselves for a while before they were called for the second briefing.

“So local PD think they have a recent victim from this weekend they want us to check out,” Penelope said over video chat. “she’s a little different than the others. Katie Newton, 27 was found bound to her bed, already having passed and was being assaulted when her husband came home. He screamed at the guy who was only wearing a ski mask and “tight-y white-y’s” as the husband described. He grabbed his bag and clothes with him but he left her tied up with the little time he had to knock the husband out of the way and run out.”

“Did he get any other identification marks on the unsub?” Y/N asked.

“He said he was pasty white, 5’8 and he didn’t talk. He didn’t scream, nothing, he just grabbed his things and ran. He does however remember he had a very large brown birthmark on his chest covering the right nipple down to his stomach.”

“Okay that’s good to know, why do they think it’s our guy?” Rossi asked.

“Blood found on the rope she was tied up with can match back to 13 different women. 6 of the murders that Y/N brought to us, 1 of the rapes she found and 5 other break-in and rapes of other women in the area.”

“Holy shit,” Y/N whispered to herself.

“Well done on finding this one Y/N, this one is going to be big.” Morgan complimented her with a smile.

“Thanks,” she smiled back, “I didn’t expect any of this when I connected the 6 of them originally. This is insane.”

“have you ever been in fieldwork like this?” Hotch asked.

“At the academy, I was combat trained, I have all my clearances and I’m a great shot. I’m good on my feet and I tested perfectly on hostage talk down.” She tried not to brag but this was almost as important as a job interview.

“Well damn,” Morgan nodded in approval. “We might just have to seal you full time.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all!”

“Good,” hotch smiled, something he didn’t do often. “I’m going to send you and Reid to the M.E to see what else we can find out about these new break-in homicides. Prentiss and Rossi, I want you to travel to the last dumpsite and the latest crime scene to see what else could connect them. Morgan and JJ come with me to the station to set up communication with the local PD and media we don’t need them naming him like they did with BTK.”

“Garcia, would you also widen the search for anyone convicted of sexual misconduct, flashing, stalking, break-ins where underwear was stolen or and peeping toms? Go all the way back to the 70s. If any of them are now working for any businesses that have vans and require him to travel. This guy has to have a mistake somewhere that you will find.” Y/N asked one last time.

“Got it, genius girl, over and out.”

—-

The bureau had the funds for rooms for the main team, meaning Y/N had to double up with someone and she had to decide who once they landed and headed to the hotel.

“It wouldn’t be weird if we got a room with two queen beds right?” She asked Spencer, “it would give us a chance to catch up in our downtime like a sleepover we never had as kids.” She nervously rambled in the SUV as Reid drove.

“No I don’t mind, It would be fun if we get any sleep in this case. This one seems like it will be a bit of a brain rattler.” Reid agreed with a soft pressed-lipped smile.

They booked their rooms, dropped off their things and all headed their separate ways. The M.E’s office was close to the police station, the two of you in an SUV followed Hotch, JJ and Morgan in another down the road.

The bodies had all been cremated or buried shortly after being found, there wasn’t anything fresh enough to examine for them but they did have access to all the information on all the cases.

“I’ve been the medical examiner here for the last 30 years,” the nice old man said as he led them down the hall to the storage room. “These ones have all been some of the worst cases I’ve seen here. So much so that I keep them all in their own boxes just in case a day like today ever happens.”

“That is very helpful for us thank you so much!” She smiled at him as he held the storage door open.

“They’re all labelled by name and date. If you have any questions about tests or need me to run more with what we have left just give me a holler!” He said as he left the room.

Y/N sighed. “Why do I feel like this is going to take a million years?”

“I can read 20,000 words a minute, it will take me 3 hours to read everything in this room. Luckily we only need to read these few boxes.” Spencer pointed at the wall.

“Okay boy wonder, stop showing off,” she smiled, taking the Victim # 5 case box down first. “She was the first one I put into the system when I joined VICAP.”

“Is that why you sent this case to JJ?”

“Partly,” she sighed again. “There was the emotional attachment of this being my first case but there were just too many connections I knew you guys could bring justice to her family. She was so young.”

Spencer opened a box and she watched as his eyes darted across the pages as he flipped through them. She was mesmerized by how he could do that. But he was probably even smarter than god so it made sense.

“This is interesting. They found LSD in the system of the 3 rapes from back in the day which isn’t that uncommon for the time period or the places where they were abducted, but what’s strange is the amount. This is enough LSD to make someone go insane, no one in their right mind would willingly take this much LSD?” Spencer said.

“They were all found 2 days later dehydrated and alone in the middle of nowhere, there’s no way of knowing if more women didn’t have this happen and died where he left them.”

“He is probably in his 50’s now. How fit would he have to be to still be able to break into houses and rape and murder women?” Spencer asked.

“Well that might be just why he stopped dumping, he might have a bad back and can't lift the dead weight. He is more willing to get caught in someone's house so that he doesn’t have to do the dumping, he can just leave after. 5 of the 6 home invasions were with women who lived alone or husbands who worked night shifts. So they wouldn’t be home. He watched them long enough to know when he could successfully get away with this.” Y/N explained as she flipped through boxes.

“And the rope technique our last victim was found in is exactly the same as the rope burns as the others you’re correct,” Spencer complimented her. “He might have ex-girlfriends or even an ex-wife who he would have tried BDSM on and she didn’t like it, so now he feels like he has to do it this way. When we deliver the profile we should alarm the public about him to draw out any women who would have willingly tried something with our unsub.”

Y/N nodded as he spoke, agreeing with everything. “That could have even been the original stressor, all the women are pretty vanilla, I talked to the husbands over the phone and the original rape victims. They weren’t into trying anything like this in their free time. 2 of the rapes were also virgins. They all had good jobs and good grades, they were outstanding, low-risk members of the community. He might be getting revenge on the women who wouldn’t indulge in this fantasy.”

“He probably feels a lack of control in his personal life, maybe he even has a more dominating wife who he feels he can't stand up to so this is how he deals with it.” Spencer agreed.

“Let's go see Hotch, I think we should deliver the profile.”

—-

They walked into the police station, gliding through the doors like they owned the place. Emily and JJ watched as they walked over to hotch with the exact same energy. Both speaking with their hands and rambling about what they had found.

“So he’s a fit, early 50’s, white male. Married, probably with kids, works with or owns a van. He has a problem with authority in his own life, he feels like he is in a submissive role all day be it from a female boss who’s always on his ass or his wife. It’s possible he even has only daughters and no sons. He feels emasculated, surrounded by women, which is why he started taking these women originally to rape them with BDSM-like acts to finally have that control he lacks in his everyday life.” Y/N explained. “He wouldn’t be very handsome, he would have issues speaking with most women, he keeps to himself, he might have even failed out of jobs involving the police or security, he wants to be in a place of power but he has none of the social skills to accomplish what he wants. I would even look into local army cadets or boy scouts he could be a very old member or the father of someone in one of those groups. His affinity for binding them up and the types of ropes he used are very common BDSM ropes but the knots are reminiscent of ones my brothers would do in at Navy cadets.”

“You got all that from the M.E?” Derek said, shocked at how good she was at this.

“I’ve been staring at his work for 2 years, every time a case from this town came in I checked into it to tie it to this guy. I don’t know what it is but this one gets to me, like BTK or Ed Kemper, these men have specific vendettas against women, they need to dominate women because they have a strong mother or wife in their presence. I know the type of man he is and I want to see him rot in prison.”

Spencer walked over to another table, spreading out a map and beginning to look at the geographical profile. Making down the 3 rapes and their dumpsites, the 6 abducted women and their dumpsites as well as the 6 home invasion homicides. Narrowing down on the geographical profile to find his comfort zone.

Y/N stood beside him watching him draw perfect circles over the map, placing a dot right in the middle. “He either lives or works in this area. Everything is within 35 miles of this area.”

Hotch took out his phone and called Garcia, placing the phone on the table with the speaker on. “Hello my lovelies, what can I do for you?”

“Have you narrowed anything down?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, I have 117 orange vans originally bought in the late ’70s that are still registered to men in this area all between the ages of 45 and 60. 63 of them work in home security, 13 of those have a son in boy scouts and 4 of those have prior peeping tom allegations.” She explained.

“Any of the 4 look interesting?” Hotch asked.

“We have Travis Johnson, 55 he works for Acorn Security, he was doing service in each town that a murder took place the same week they went missing. He is married and has been since 1980 right when he stopped raping and his 5th and last daughter was born the same week that Clarice Richardson was murdered in 1998. They took in a foster child to give him a boy 3 years ago who is in boy scouts, and has all his badges in you guessed it, knot tying.”

“Do we have his home and work address?” Morgan asked.

“Yes of course I do chocolate thunder, they’ve been sent to you already. I’ve also sent a list of his appointments for today, he might be on the hunt.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan smiled at the phone.

“It's what they pay me the big bucks for.”

She hung up and hotch immediately started handing out bullet-proof vests. “Time to catch him.”

Spencer rested a hand on your back as he passed you, smiling as if to say 'good job'.

Y/n grabbed her vest and her go-bag and quickly changed into something more suited for chasing after a runner. It almost always came to that in her experience. She came back out in jeans and a white long sleeve shirt tucked in, her vest on and her hair up. She placed her earpiece in and straightened out her gun. Making sure the clip was full and adding an extra one to her vest.

“Ready?” She asked Spencer as he tightened his vest.

“Let’s do this.”

They split up, Prentiss Rossi and JJ went to his house while Reid, Morgan, Hotch and Y/L/N took a squad of local cops to where the unsub was supposedly doing his house calls.

They slowly drove through the neighbourhoods, lights off just paroling up and down the streets. They saw an orange van parked on the side of the street, they watched as the unsub got out of the driver's seat, grabbing a bag and walking up to a woman’s house. Slowly they all got out of the SUV, Morgan and Hotch taking the back while Reid and Y/L/N took the front door. They waited for confirmation that he wasn’t alone in this home, before going in.

They could hear a woman talking and then there was a scream, “I’m going in,” Y/L/N said, Kicking the door down before Reid took the lead, Y/N following behind him.

“Travis Johnson? FBI!” Spencer yelled.

The two of them cleared the main room, working their way to the hallway, Reid let her take the lead to the bedroom where they heard the struggle.

“Travis put down the rope and let her go,” Y/N said slowly as he walked into the room, gun pointed.

“And why should I?” He panicked, holding the woman against his chest, she was crying gripping onto the rope he was holding tightly around her throat.

“I’m a huge fan of your work!” Y/N said. “I work for VICAP, I’m the one who had to put each and every single one of your victims in the system. I know exactly how much you’re into control and BDSM, it’s honestly surprising that you have to force these women into it, why are women so against letting a big strong man control them anymore?” She said softly as she lowered the gun and her voice.

“You know, I’ve always thought BDSM was super sexy, I’d love to be tied up and taken control of, if you put down the rope how would you like to have a willing participant one day?” She teased him, getting closer and closer, she could see he was rock hard. He loosened the rope and pushed her to the side, stepping forward towards Y/N who quickly flipped him to the floor and cuffed him.

“Travis Johnson you are under arrest for the rape and murder of over 12 women. You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one will be appointed for you. If you chose to share anything without a lawyer present you have the right to stop at any time. Is that clear?”

She single handily lifted him to his feet and dragged him out of the room as the men in the hall just watched with awe.

“You’re a little bitch you know that?” The unsub said as he struggled in her grasp.

She slammed him against the hallway wall, pressing right up against his back, whispering in his ear “oh so now you have a big mouth huh, finally feel like you can talk to a woman who isn’t tied down? I’m in control here, you’re my little bitch you hear me? Only good boys get to speak to me.” She said as she pulled him back off the wall and handed him off to local PD. “Have fun being a little bitch in prison Travis.”

She stood there with her arms crossed catching her breath as the adrenalin shook through her body.

“Well done Y/L/N,” Hotch and Morgan put their fists out to give her props.

“How would you like to join the team for good?” Hotch asked? “we’ve been looking for an extra hand.”

“Absolutely!”

—

They were going to spend the night in Wichita, all agreeing to spend the night getting drinks at the local bar suggested by the PD. Piling into the SUV all together with Spencer offering to DD.

“How much time have you put into Travis?” Prentiss asked in the back seat beside Y/N.

“Sharon Flynn was the first case I ever put into my system 2 years ago. Her case looked so gruesome and evil it never left my mind. So then when Alice Webster, number 6 came in I did some more digging and found the 4 before Sharon and the 3 rapes, I knew it was cold for a while but something about him always stuck with me. And for some reason last week when I emailed the info to JJ out of the blue I had a gut feeling he was at it again.” Y/N explained.

“It’s a special talent to just feel when something is wrong.” JJ smiled back at them.

“I’ve always been, not fascinated, by serial killers but more interested in the chase of justice.” She explained, “if that makes sense. I love puzzles and finding answers and at least this way the end result is families finding peace.”

They pulled into the parking lot, all of them finding their way into the bar before the ladies went to the bathroom to freshen up.

“So Y/N,” Prentiss said, taking her phone out and calling Penelope. “The ladies of the BAU are very close, so welcome to our little group.”

“exactly.” Penelope said over the phone, “welcome to the group you’re going to fit right in!” She cheered.

“Thank you, VICAP was not a tight-knit group like y’all are. I’m extremely excited to get to know you all more.” Y/N smiled as she straightened her shirt out in the mirror.

“So you and Spencer?” JJ asked.

“We were in the same kindergarten class,” Y/N said with a small smile. “I thought he was going to be my best friend and then he took some test and was bumped into 4th grade. By the time I was in high school he had already finished his second Ph.D.”

“So you never kept up with each other?” Prentiss asked.

She shook her head. “I knew of him, my mom is the Activities Organizer at the home his mom is at, he used to go to the park across from my house, he now lives across the hall from me and works with me. I think we were always supposed to be friends but it wasn’t the right time till now.”

“Sounds like you have a crush,” Penelope teased through the phone.

“I do.” She smiled to herself. “I think I always have.”

“If pretty boy was here he’d say that there is a statistical likelihood that because you’ve been interested in him for longer than 3 years you’re most likely in love with him and you'll never not be.” Prentiss explained, “I heard him say that to Hotch once.”

She nodded along, “I guess I just need to get him to fall in love with me now.”

“It won't be that difficult.” JJ placed her hand on Y/N’s back and they all made their way out of the bathroom smiling.

The men were all sitting together at a table with everybody’s drinks already waiting.

“We didn’t know what you liked,” Spencer said as Y/N sat beside him. “So I said I’d go get whatever you want.”

“Or we can go up to the bar together.” She smiled.

The two of them got up and walked to the bar, the rest of the team watched them.

She leaned against the bar, ordering her drinks and pressing in close to Spencer. “It’s been so nice getting to spend time with you.” He said softly.

She was handed her drinks before she could even respond. Taking her tequila shot there and bringing her margarita back to the table as Spencer followed swiftly behind her.

They all drank and exchanged case stories from within and beyond the BAU, Spencer was able to add a lot of input but he was always cut off. Y/N leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “you can tell me all your facts later I really want to hear them.” She smiled so softly Spencer felt his heart about to burst in his chest.

Emily left the group to go flirt with the bartender, JJ was on FaceTime in the SUV with Will, Rossi had disappeared with a local woman and Hotch and Morgan were exchanging childhood stories over a beer in the corner.

The bar was playing old, slow music, almost everyone had filtered out but there were still older local couples hanging out and dancing in the middle of the room.

“Do you dance?” Y/N asked Spencer.

“I can try.”

She took his hand and led him to the floor. Drunk on the alcohol and his touch as she slipped his hands around to her back, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned her head on his chest. She felt his cheek rest on the top of her head as the two of them just swayed in a circle together.

“Do you have any other memories of me?” Y/N asked him softly.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You lived across the street from the park, and your mom works at the nursing home. You have 2 younger brothers who have always looked older than you. They would come and go when I was sitting on the lone swing and I’d always see you in the window reading. I knew you were my age but it still never felt right for me to talk to you when I was in university.”

“I watched you every time you were on the swings, you looked so peaceful. You read at least a book a day every time you were out there and it became so special to me seeing you there every weekend.” She explained.

“The world works in mysterious ways.” He explained.

She held him as close as she could. Never in her wildest dreams did she expect her day to go like this. She expected coffee and a weird goodbye in the elevator and staring at a computer screen all day. Somehow she ended up in Spencer's arms in a different state after having caught the serial killer that's haunted her dreams for years.

He rubbed his thumb lightly over her back, “do you want to go back to the hotel? We have an early flight.” He whispered.

“Yeah,” she smiled pulling back but reaching down to hold his hand as they walked over to Hotch and Morgan.

They drove home quietly, everyone in the back was happily drunk and tired. They parked and wandered up to their rooms, saying goodbye at their doors and disappearing into their rooms.

Spencer let her take the bathroom first, changing into her PJ’s and then he did the same. She laid in her bed, facing his as he sat up and read.

“Can I come lie beside you?” She asked, knowing exactly how needy she sounded.

He nodded, pulling the sheet back so she could slip right in. She laid on her side and just looked up at him. Absolutely astounded that she was with him.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Spencer asked, putting his book down and sliding down the bed to be on her level.

“Yeah?” She said nervously.

“Today you said it’s hard for people to come forward after they are assaulted, it sounded like personal experience and I wanted you to know if you need anyone, I’m always available for you.” He explained.

“Oh,” her face dropped. “I was 12, he was 15. You were in high school at the same time as him. I don’t know if you’d remember him, his name was Christopher.”

Spencer nodded along as she spoke. “When my mom finally went back to work she didn’t trust me watching my brothers alone so her friend offered to babysit us during the days. Her foster son took advantage of me the whole summer and when my parents finally found out he went into Sophomore year and told everyone that the nerdy girl who looks like bugs bunny was obsessed with him, that I stalked him and that anything I said about him wasn’t real.”

“I’m so sorry.” He rubbed his hand over her shoulder to soothe her.

“It’s okay, they used to call me bugs bunny because of my overbite. I used to rest my front teeth on my front lip and they would throw carrots at me,” she explained further.

“It all makes sense now,” he said softly.

“What does?”

“When I was 13 the seniors had a cheerleader invite me onto the football field and convinced me to strip down to my underwear, she was about to kiss me when all the football guys ran out and beat me up, they tied me to the goal post and the one said ‘we should really hook you up with bugs bunny, you losers would be perfect together.’ And they left me there all night long.”

“Oh Spencer I am so sorry,” she cuddled in close to him, placing her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “I think we went through our traumas separately all these years because something bigger than us knew we’d need each other one day.”

“When we get back to Virginia, would you like to go on a date with me?” Spencer asked.

“I would want nothing more.” She hugged him a bit tighter.

They stayed like that for a while until Spencer felt Y/N slip into the night's slumber. He quietly reached for the lamp, turning it off and readjusting himself under Y/N’s grasp.

He fell asleep not so long after. Both sleeping soundly for the first time in a long time.

Chapter 2

They had 3 back to back cases once they arrived back at Quantico. They travelled from DC to California to North Carolina within 2 weeks of Y/N working with the BAU.

Meaning she had not yet gone on that date Spencer asked her out on.

“If we get another call as soon as I reach that elevator I am leaving and not coming back. I am exhausted,” Emily said as she packed her bag and all but sprinted for the door.

“I hope my car still runs, it’s been parked here for so long now,” Y/N added and she walked towards the door. “You coming Spence?”

“Yeah, I’ll meet you at the car,” he said with a smile as he waved her off.

Emily and Y/N waited for the elevator, Penelope and JJ quickly followed behind them with their bags in their hands. Penelope’s heels clicked as fast as they could against the floor as she tried to catch up.

“Girls night?” JJ asked, “Will said Henry is asleep and he’s about to go to bed too, so I’m free for a bit?”

“I have to go home, I’ve barely moved into my new apartment, I still have to unpack,” Y/N explained.

“How about we come have some wine and help you?” Emily offered.

“If I’m being honest, I kinda want some alone time with Spencer.” She blushed bright red.

“Oooooo,” Penelope and JJ teased.

“It’s about time someone gave Spencer the attention he deserves,” Emily laughed.

“Believe me he’s going to get too much attention now that I live across the hall from him, work with him and carpool with him,” she giggled right back. “Has he never had a girlfriend before?”

“Not that we know of,” JJ said, “he’s very quiet.”

“Have you?” Penelope asked, “dated before that is?”

“oh no, I’ve never dated anyone before, I haven’t even kissed anyone in years,” she said feeling bashful and embarrassed.

“I think that's what Spencer needs though,” Emily added, “He needs someone on the same level as him all ‘round, you two match in every sense it’s almost perfect.”

“He’s probably the only man who doesn’t make me feel scared like I want my first real love to be with someone I feel safe with, I don’t think I could do anything with like, Morgan or Hotch or any men like them. They’re nice, yeah but the aggressive authority side isn’t something I’m comfortable around outside of work.” She explained.

“Yeah, Spencer is a sweetheart. I think that’s why I didn’t end up with him honestly.” JJ said softly, “Gideon tried to hook us up years ago cause we were the youngest on the team, but I do crave that authority outside of work.”

“It’s probably because you’re in power here. You handle the media, you wear the pants and you get shit done,” Y/N said, “you want to go home and be taken care of by a man who knows how to run a household.”

“Exactly!” JJ laughed.

“I want to be taken care of, yes, but I rather be the caretaker at home. I just want someone who will do their own thing with me in the same room, to kiss me before we go to bed and make sure I know they love me.” Y/N said softly, only picturing a life with Spencer as she said it.

The elevator never moved the whole time they were in there, it dinged and opened to Spencer and Morgan waiting. “You guys are that tired you didn’t even make it to your cars?” Morgan teased.

“didn’t even push the button actually,” Y/N chimed in.

“We were having girl time,” Penelope smiled.

“well let’s go home finally,” Morgan and Spencer walked in, pressing the button to the garage and riding down in silence.

Spencer waited for Y/N to exit the elevator last before walking with her to her car. She unlocked it and got in, watching and waving as her new friends pulled out of the garage.

“Ready?” She asked, pulling out as soon as she saw Spencer nod his head with his cute little pressed-lip smile.

They drove home in silence, enjoying the peace and quiet for the first time in weeks. The drive was quick, 30 minutes in the cold, dark, Virginia wilderness.

She parked in their parking lot, yawning as she turned the car off. She grabbed her purse from the back seat and made her way inside with Spencer.

“You going to sleep?” She asked him when they reached her door.

“Probably not, my brain is still too caught up in the cases,” he said honestly.

“Would you like to come in for some tea? To calm down before bed?” She offered as she unlocked her door.

She stepped inside, unlocking the alarm with the 4 digit code. Spencer tried his best not to listen but he failed, he’ll remember the sound of the code forever now.

She flicked on the light and looked around at the mess she left in her living room. “God I forgot it’s a mess in here,” she groaned.

Spencer followed her inside, following her lead and dropping his bag on the floor. He watched as Y/N walked around the house with her hand on her gun, clearing each room to make sure it was still safe.

“Sorry, I live alone, I don’t take any chances,” she said as she came back into the room.

She unlocked her safe and placed her work gun inside, closing it and spinning the lock right after. She let out a deep sigh, stretching her arms out over her head. “It’s so nice to be back in this mess.”

“I can help you unpack this weekend?” Spencer offers.

“If you want to that would be nice, I’ll order us some take out too.”

She picked up the boxes on her couch and moved them to the floor, she cleared off her coffee table and took the lamps out of the box in the corner. She plugged them into the wall and set them on the end tables. Luckily her furniture was in place all she had to do was put out all her little trinkets, books and photos.

Spencer took a seat on her couch, opening a box with mugs and cups, taking them all out of their bubble wrapping and setting them on the coffee table.

Y/N managed to find her kettle, as well as the box of random food she brought from her old cupboard. She set out a variety of teas and digestive biscuits.

Spencer slowly brought the mugs over, placing them in the cupboard of Y/N’s choosing, making sure he left 2 mugs out for them.

“Can I have a green tea?” Spencer asked softly.

“Of course, is it your favourite?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I would like some caffeine but I’m not interested in having a coffee, so this is a good middle ground.”

“I’m not a fan of most hot drinks, that's why I drink ice coffee in the mornings,” Y/N poured the hot water into both cups, leaving room for milk in both mugs just in case. “But, Orange Pekoe is my favourite.”

She placed a tea bag in each mug and handed Spencers to him.

She watched him add a little sugar to his mug before picking it up and returning to the sofa. She followed him shortly after adding milk and sugar to her own, as well as a plate of cookies.

She sighed as she settled in to the couch. “Going to try my hardest to manifest a full weekend off, with no cases, if my spirit guides loved me they will listen.” She jokes.

“You’re spiritual?” He asks.

“A little?” She shrugs, “I’m very into natural medicine, lunar cycles, manifesting and affirmations. Basically what would be considered a witch back in the day.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I had a pretty invasive surgery when I was 17, and because of the body trauma, I developed fibromyalgia. And there really aren’t any answers or explanations for it so I had to turn to something to bring me peace and pain relief.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through that.”

“It’s okay, eating right, taking my supplements, sleeping and exercise help. Basically, if I take care of myself my body will thank me,” she huffed out a small laugh. “It’s annoying waking up in pain randomly for no reason. I rather wake up sore from taking down an unsub, at least then, the pain is more like a reward, you know?”

Spencer nodded along and smiled softly, “I’m glad you found something that helps you.”

“How about you? I’m guessing you’re a science-only man?”

He laughed, “yes.”

“So do you believe in soulmates?” She asked on a whim.

“In the scientific sense of the word yes. I believe when the big bang happened, all the atoms, electrons and particles that split to make the universe as we know it, still exist in us today. Who’s to say that they don’t pull back to each other, causing a cosmic connection,” Spencer explained softly, his voice low as he explained himself.

Y/N set her drink down, moving in closer to him on the couch. “And how do you know when you’ve met your other half?” She asked. Her voice was just as low.

Spencer set his mug down as well, he placed his warm hand on her cheek, “I think everything would just make sense with them. They’d orbit each other's lives for so long, observing and acknowledging one another and finally one day they’ll connect.”

He leaned in and pressed his perfectly soft lips against hers. She reached her hand around the back of his neck and held him into the kiss. Breathing in deeply through her nose, trying to keep the moment forever.

She pulled back, her breathing was deep as she opened her eyes to look into his. “If you weren’t just explaining the big bang to me, I’d think that was it.”

He laughed at her joke, making both of their hearts soar. She pressed him back against the sofa, adjusting themselves so that she was lying partially on top of him as they cuddled in her crowded living room.

They could hear the sound of the world going on around them. The subtle hum of the subway below them. The distant car horns, someone upstairs was walking around in their apartment.

They were completely quiet then, just cuddled up in their own world without any distractions. The two of them let their hands wander each other as they laid there.

Y/N slowly sat up, peeling herself out of Spencer's grip. “Do you want to spend the night here?”

“I’m just going to run across the hall and get ready for bed, I can lock up when I come back?” He said softly.

“Okay, the button with the person inside the house is the one you hold down on the alarm system after you lock both locks,” she explained before standing up and walking into her bedroom.

She changed into a pair of shorts, a sports bra, and a tank top. She brushed her teeth and hair, throwing it up in a little bun. She took out her contacts, replacing them with her glasses. She washed her face, watered her plants and sat down in her bed finally.

She had her hand on her night side drawer, where she keeps her other gun, just in case the person coming into her house wasn’t Spencer. But then she heard the alarm system arm, both locks clicked, the sound of dishes being placed in the sink and finally the sound of a lamp being clicked off.

Spencer slipper clad feet against the hardwood floor is all she heard as he walked into her room. He took the right side of the bed, wearing his PJ bottoms and a regular t-shirt. It was really the first time she was him so dressed down.

She settled down into the bed, she put her glasses on her side table, plugged in her phones and turned out the light. Spencer spooned into her, cuddling in tight and holding her against his chest.

“Goodnight, Spencer.” She whispered.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

She didn’t fall asleep right away. She basked in the glory that was Spencer Reid’s warm embrace. The feeling of his breath against her neck and his hand on her stomach.

“I love you.” Was the last thing she thinks she heard before she finally fell asleep.

—

She woke up to her phone ringing. She reached over to the nightstand and clicked talk. “SSA Y/L/N,” she said.

“Hey, it’s Penelope.”

“What’s up?”

“Not a case don’t worry, I was just wondering if I could stop by with some iced coffee and breakfast sandwiches to help you unpack?” She asked way too cheerfully for whatever time it was.

“Uh yeah just give us a chance to wake up, can you come by in 30?” She said as she rubbed her eyes, waking up.

“Us?”

“Uh, yeah, Spencer came in for tea and slept on the couch,” she lied.

“No I didn’t,” he groggily chimed in from where he was cuddled into the crook of Y/N’s neck.

“Right okay, so I’ll bring Spencer some breakfast too then,” she said before hanging up.

Y/N placed the phone back on her night table, settling back into Spencer’s embrace.

“Why’d you lie?” He asked.

“Didn’t know if I had your consent to tell her about us yet,” she whispered into his hair as she placed kisses on his head.

“Morgan told me if I didn’t kiss you last night, he’d make me do another round of physical evaluations,” he smiled against her skin. “He wanted to win the bet everyone set to see who would kiss who first.”

“So you just helped the guys win?”

“Prentiss, Morgan and Hotch were betting for me to kiss you first,” he admitted.

“Well, that means Rossi, Garcia and JJ think I’m the one wearing the pants here. Good to know,” she giggled.

“You can wear the pants,” he said as he shifted his weight to look up at her, “as long as I get to take them off later.”

“Well, Dr. Reid, I never thought you’d have it in you,” she was pleasantly surprised.

“When I get comfortable around someone I’m a lot different than I am at work,” he explained, “I heard what you said about needing someone to take care of who still wants to take care of you.”

She blushed, “of course you did.”

He leaned down to kiss her jaw and down her neck. “I think we can work something out,” he whispered.

Her breathing hitched. She couldn’t believe the complete 180º his personality just took, and she wasn’t complaining. All the moisture left her mouth as she just nodded her head in agreement.

“We should get up before she gets here,” he said, kissing her one last time before crawling out of bed.

She laid there staring up at the ceiling, shocked, flabbergasted, enamoured, basically every single word that essentially meant ‘what the fuck just happened.'

She got up, turned off the alarm and waited to use the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and replaced her tank top with a sweater. Spencer slipped across the hall to change into jeans and a button-down shirt, almost like he couldn’t be in anything else around his friends.

Penelope was a hugger, she made sure to give Y/N a good squeeze as she walked into her apartment. “It’s literally the same as Reid’s just backwards,” was the first thing she said.

“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t been over there yet,” Y/N smiled, taking the coffees out of Penelope’s hands and setting them on the counter.

“JJ and Emily said they’d love to come help later too if you want them to, but it doesn’t look too bad for just the 3 of us,” she said looking around.

“Everything is labelled, my room is all done so you don’t need to worry about it, set up however you see fit, honestly, I’m at a bit of a loss figuring out how to make this place feel more like me with what I have.”

“Alright, well,” she started, looking for the box with the cleaning supplies. “First we clean the kitchen then we put everything where it has to go.”

So that's what they did, they spent a few hours wiping down every surface in the house, disinfecting the floors, the walls, door handles, nobs, everything. Then Penelope got out all her pots and pans, hanging them on the rack above the kitchen island.

Spencer took all the plates out, stacking them neatly in the cabinet. Y/N stacked her cups and glasses, placing them on the shelf with the glass door. They organized her utensils, baking equipment, cookbooks and aprons, asking all about how much she baked.

She offered to make cookies for the team soon, that was a Sunday night with Spencer activity for sure.

In the living space, there weren’t many things. Spencer unpacked the books and placed them on her shelves in library-coded order. While Penelope and Y/N unboxed all her albums and records, cheering and singing along to their favourites.

Y/N had never quite had friends like this before, people who just fit into her life so easily. This was really the best family in the FBI, they knew how to make someone feel completely and wholly loved.

“I need to get some art and stuff,” Y/N said staring at the one empty wall.

“What are you going to do on the fireplace mantle?” Spencer asked, noticing it was still empty.

“Probably some of my spiritual stuff, like my crystals and candles and incense,” she smiled.

“oh, I do that too!” Another thing they had in common.

The day blew past them. They finished unpacking and breaking down all the boxes by 2 pm, finally sitting down altogether, exhausted. Ready to order a few pizzas and chill for the rest of the afternoon.

—

“I really appreciate the help today,” she said as she hugged Penelope. Penelope’s hugs were more comforting than her own mother’s, she thought. Holding her tightly and taking it all in. “I’m so blessed I ran into Spencer and now I get to be your friend.”

“I will cry,” she joked as she hugged y/n tighter. “I’m very blessed to have met you as well.”

She hugged Spencer on her way out as well, forcing herself to leave or else she would have stayed and talked for hours.

As soon as Spencer closed the door behind her, he set the alarm the way Y/N liked it. She smiled at him, seeing him remember how she likes to feel completely safe.

She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in. “Would you like to make out with me on my bed?”

“Like horny teenagers?” He giggled, dropping his forehead to rest on hers.

“We never really got the horny teenage experience,” she said softly.

“Are you-?” He cut himself off before he could say the word.

She looked up at him, her eyes big and innocent, she nodded. “technically.”

“Technically?” He repeated softly.

“I don’t want to count my sexual assault as my first,” she whispered. “I’ve never let anyone touch me since.”

His arms wrapped tighter around her, pulling her in closer to be right against his chest. He kissed her cheeks, her chin, forehead, nose, and finally her lips. “I’m going to try my best to never hurt you.”

She kissed him deeper, her hand on the back of his neck, never wanting to part from him. But when she did, she whispered, out of breath. “Promise to only hurt me if I ask you to?”

He saw the way his breath hitched and the way his grip changed. His face went red as he nodded feverishly.

“Are you a virgin Dr. Reid?” She teased.

“No,” he whispered. “I uh had sex in college, just to get it out of the way.”

She broke out of his grasp, taking his hand and pulling him into her bedroom. She closed the door behind them flicking on her fairy lights and lighting a couple of candles. He sat patiently on her bed as he watched her nervously organize things that had no reason to be organized in that moment.

But he let her calm down until she was fully ready, or she changed her mind. Either way, he was going to hang out with her all night long, however she wanted him.

“Close your eyes,” she asked softly. “Lay back against the bed and don’t look at me yet.” She ordered him and he listened.

He pressed his eyes closed and scooted up the bed till his head was on a pillow, laying back with his hands over his eyes. He listened closely to the sound of her taking her clothes off. She tried to steady her breath as she pulled off her sweater and sports bra and replace it with something cute.

She put on her only pair of matching underwear, ones she got on sale at some department store that she only wore for herself so far. She crawled up the bed, sitting directly on Spencer's hips.

She took his hands off his eyes, noticing they were still closed, she smiled. She placed his hands on her bare hips. “Open them.”

He opened his eyes to the most stunning image he’s ever seen in his life. Blinking a few times as his mind burned the image into the back of his eyelids for the rest of time. “Fuck,” he whispered.

She smiled to herself, “thought you’d like it.”

She leaned down, arching her back and kissed his neck. His hands travelled from her thighs to her perched ass as she kissed up his jaw to his ear. He was nothing but breathy moans and thank you’s as she explored him.

She ground herself down on his growing erection, smirking against his skin. She sat back on his hips, wiggling as she undid each of his shirt buttons, way too slow.

She took her time, pulling the front of his shirt out of his jeans and finally spreading the shirt open. Her hands ran over his chest before she used her nails to scrape her way down to his jean buttons.

He reached for her hands then. Stopping her and looking up into her eyes. “Before we start, I need to know what will trigger you,” he said softly.

“Oh,” her face dropped a little, she was a little overwhelmed with the fact he was asking, but she knew he truly cared. “I can’t do blowjobs yet, I will probably have a panic attack.”

“I can live without them,” he smirked, “look at everything else you do, fuck you’re amazing.” His hands roamed her skin the whole time.

She tucked her ankles under his knees and in one swift moment flipped them from laying on his side of the bed to the middle. He was on top of her now, absolutely amazed that she could do that.

“Told you I was combat trained,” she giggled.

Spencer sat up on the bed, ripping his shirt off and pushing himself out of both his jeans and underwear at the same time. Her mouth couldn’t help but fall open and the sight of his perfect cock bouncing free.

He sat back, trying to tug his jeans off of his ankles when he fell back and landed on the hardwood floor, “Spencer!” She couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from her.

He huffed, clearly embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she quickly bit her lip to try and stop laughing.

“When you said horny teenager phase I didn’t think you meant the awkward part too,” he smiled, standing completely naked in front of her.

“Get back here,” she giggled.

He got right back on top of her, between her legs that she wrapped immediately around him. Locking him in place. “How would you like it?” He asked.

“Well hypothetically,” she began with a smirk, “I think I would like to ride you, sitting up, tits in your face, the whole shebang.”

He forgot how to breathe, the most beautiful girl in the world just laid out how she wants to be fucked like it was a science experiment.

He was in love with her.

She flipped him again, “you have to stop doing that!” He gasped.

She laughed as she sat up, getting off him enough so he could sit up against the headboard. She shimmied out of her underwear before sitting down on him again, their most intimate parts just resting close to one another. She shivered at the feel of his hot skin against hers. She’d never been this close to another human before.

“Do you have a condom?” He asked, suddenly shy.

“If you want one yeah but I have an IUD in case I get,” she stopped herself, “you know, in the field.”

“Yeah that's smart,” he was so nervous.

She leaned in and kissed him. Holding his cheeks in her hands as his hands reached behind her back to undo her bra. She opened her mouth to let him explore with his tongue as she felt the straps of her bra slip down her shoulders.

She let go of his face one hand at a time and peeled the bra from her skin. Flinging it across the room without looking and pressing her breasts against his chest.

She gets on her knees without breaking the kiss, reaching between them she grips the base of his cock. His breath hitches in his throat and she can feel his pulse in his shaft.

She drags the head through her folds, she breaks the kiss to breathe in his ear, “you know, you’re just a bit bigger than what I'm used to.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

She lines him up with her and slowly pushes down on him, pulling up and back down again, each time getting his cock a little wetter on her juices so he can slip in easier. “I think it was called the emerald stud, he’s in a box over there,” she whispers in his ear as she bottoms out.

She sits back, her arms around his shoulders, she rocks on his cock. His eyes slip shut as he dips his head back against her crossed wrists. “Fuck,” he breathes.

She shifts again, bouncing more on him when she’s used to his size. His hands are on her ass again, helping her bounce as he moved to kiss her neck and collarbones.

He’s all noises, hot breath against her chest and sloppy kisses. She reaches between them to rub her clit before he pushes her hand out of the way to rub her himself. Feeling how swollen she is, he squeezes her clit lightly.

She moans out a high pitches squeak that she had no idea she could make, covering her mouth as she bounced a little harder on his cock. “Fuck Spencer,” she whispered into his hair.

He kissed her ear again, “you want me to cum in you?” He asks.

“God yeah, fill me up,” she replies without thinking, tossing her head back and grinding down ever so provocatively on him.

She presses her front against him more, causing the friction from his index finger on her clit to get more intense as she bucks her hips faster and faster against him.

He’s gone. Absolutely destroyed. He cants even worn her that he’s about to cum he just tips his head back and fucks up into her, gripping her ass so tight that he knows she’s going to have 5 deep, finger-shaped, purple bruises around each ass cheek.

Her orgasm rips through her, losing balance with her shaking thighs she gasps for air, falling into him with her face in the crook of his neck. She is breathing so hard as she comes down, she drools on his neck a little.

He pulls his hand out from between them, flicking her clit on last time. Sending a tremor through her body. She twitches against him, tensing up and tightening around the cock still inside her.

He moans once more, and she feels the tiniest trickle of cum slip out of her as he lifts her off him.

They don’t talk. They just hold onto one another, breathing and rubbing their hands over each other's skin.

“Wow,” Spencer finally says.

“Yeah,” she agrees.

“Hypothetically,” he says with a smile, “I think the outcome we reached was the intended goal?” Only Spencer Reid would make a joke like that after sex.

She laughed and kissed his neck, “very successful, I would be willing to switch techniques next time to see if we can repeat this outcome.”

“Sounds like a date.”

chapter 3

They worked together perfectly. Every morning he’d head across the hall to his own apartment to get ready, coming back to a slice of toast and coffee in his travel mug ready to go.

She looked gorgeous every morning. She put time and effort into what she wore to work, just to chase psychopaths all day. He was in love with her, its the only thing he knew for sure when he looked at her. He was never going to recover from falling for her.

He’d hold all her things while she sets the alarm and locks the door. She would drive them to work each morning and even then he’d carry all her things up to the office.

Everyone noticed how Spencer changed around Y/N, he was always smiling, he was basically glowing from being in love, and having sex. Derek teased him constantly, but in all honesty, he was really proud of his little bro.

They had a slow day, which meant all the ladies filed into Penny’s office to shoot the shit when they were really supposed to be writing reports.

“So?” Penelope looked at Y/N with an arched eyebrow. “How is he?”

She shook her head and giggled to herself. “Really good.”

“Really?” Emily pried?

“He has this other personality that comes out when we, you know,” she was afraid to say fuck inside the walls of Penelope’s office. “I’m addicted, I was so afraid to have sex and now I’m like having an internal battle of is it really worth getting caught in the filing room for a quicky!”

They all burst into laughter, sharing stories of all the times each of them has fucked at work, “you won't get caught if you let us help you?” JJ said with a smirk.

“You’re kidding?” Y/N tilted her head, not believing her.

“I can ask Morgan and the team to lunch while you stay here, text Spencer saying to stay back to get work done but he can meet you in here.” Penelope planned the whole thing.

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think I’m comfortable enough for that yet.” She was being completely honest.

“We need a code word for when you choose to use this plan,” Emily said. “Like you group text us the word ‘switch’ and we will keep everyone busy for you and Spence.”

“Why do you want me to fuck him here so bad?”

They all laughed, “because we’re not used to Spence getting this kind of love!” JJ said. “Emily and Penelope covered for me literally when me and Will made Henry.”

“having a hand in making my godson gave me a god complex,” Penelope joked.

They got along fabulously, laughing and working all afternoon before the boys came to get them.

“We got something.”

Y/N walked out first joining Spencer in the hall with a smile, standing close enough to him as they walked that their knuckles rubbed together. She sat beside him in the briefing room, opening the case file in front of her and flipping through the info.

“Wow,” she whispered to herself. “I know a few of the 13 women, I put them in the missing system.”

Spencer rubs his hand over her back softly, looking at the pages she’s flipping through.

Garcia wasn’t cheery anymore, she grabbed the remote for the tv and started her rundown.

“Over the last 6 days, police in Winnemucca Nevada have dug up 13 bodies of women who have gone missing in the last 10 years. He seems to kill sporadically without patterns. M.E has confirmed all 13 women, and de-comp shows they were all killed within 24 hours of going missing.”

“Cause?” Prentiss asked.

“All 13 were strangled with plastic shopping bags, that were left wrapped around their faces in the graves. They were all sexually assaulted antemortem, but not all of them died from asphyxiation. He also stabbed 9 of the 13 victims, 5 of which died from massive blood loss. But the real kicker was that all 13 of them had their wombs removed.” Penelope finished.

“Do we know if any of them were pregnant?” Y/N asked.

“Yes,” she said flipping through slides, “victim number 13, Traci Purcell was 17 and according to her autopsy, her HCG levels indicated she would have been 3 weeks along when she was murdered.”

“Are they able to see if the others were pregnant?” Hotch asked.

“They’re working on it, best bet will be for me to pull medical records and to ask the family.”

“Wheels up in 30,” Hotch nodded towards the door.

Slowly but surely they all filed into the plane, Y/N took a window seat, quickly burying her head in the file, looking at each and every victim carefully.

“Spence, would you help me place the geographical profile?” Y/N asked him softly as he got comfortable in the seat across from her.

“Once we take off we can spread out the map,” he smiled softly back at her. Even when dealing with the hard cases they managed to get caught up in each other's eyes.

“Okay love birds, can I sit here too or will I get more than air sickness?” Morgan said, pretending to feel sick as he sat beside Y/N.

She smacked his arm lightly.

“Speaking of,” Spencer said, stopping to swallow nervously. “Hotch I’m going to need 2 of the workplace fraternization forms when we get back.”

Everyone on the plane cheered at him, he got 3 high-fives and all the congratulations in the world. Y/N immediately felt her face warm up.

“Don’t worry, Garcia filed them for you that night she helped you unpack,” Hotch smiled into his paperwork.

“How did she even know?” Y/N’s voice went up 3 octaves as she panicked.

“At least we know when pretty boy lost his V card now,” Morgan smirked.

“No, just me.” Y/N corrected him. To which Spencer was given yet another high five.

Just then Spencer was handed $20 from Rossi, Hotch, and Morgan. Y/N raised an eyebrow, “why?”

“I bet them $20, years ago, that I am in fact not a virgin and they said they would and I quote ‘only pay me if a woman who has fucked me confirms it.’ So who’s going to tell Gideon to pay up?” He explains.

The team carried on like normal after all the excitement died down. Having side conversations, working on the case, sleeping. The trip from Quantico to Winnemucca was fairly quick.

Y/N sat with Spencer at the table, spreading out the map and watching him place where all 13 victims disappeared from as well as where they were found. They were spread over 3 subdivisions, all 35 miles at least away from the burial sites.

“The park,” Spencer said softly.

“Is that the middle ground?”

“Yeah there’s something significant with the park,” Spencer confirms.

—

Spencer and Y/N went to the M.E together, all 13 women were labelled and displayed under white sheets. They took their time looking over each skeleton and the bodies.

“Clean cuts on the stomach, I wonder why he didn’t stab her?” Spencer said as he looked at the 13th victim.

“She might have cooperated better, or and I hate to say it but, seeing as she was Asian there is a high chance she didn’t bear resemblance to the source of the unsubs rage meaning she got to go out a little easier,” Y/N suggested with a disgusted look on her face.

“The 5 who died of blood loss were all white, brown hair, green eyes. 3 were 26, 2 were 29. They might be exactly his type,” Spencer confirmed the theory.

“They were also murdered,” she flipped her notebook open to show a chart with 5 columns. “June, February, June, November, November. Could also mean something to him.”

“What is that?” Spencer asks.

“It’s a chart that has the name, their age, the missing date and last scene location, the estimated date of death, and the cause. So that I can easily refer to the most important info when making a connection,” She explained. “My brain works better if I can see everything, so I also have my own little hand-drawn map of the area on his page as well as all my ideas in case I don’t get a turn to speak.”

“That’s really smart,” he smiled.

“So June, November and February might be significant to him.”

“Let’s go tell Hotch.”

Spencer drove for once, Y/N sat in the passenger seat in the SUV, doodling into her notebook.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Spencer asked.

“I wrote down the first letter of each month,” she explained, showing him the notebook. “And I circled each of the 3 months that repeat, February, June and November.”

“Okay?” He followed along.

“From February to November it’s 10 months or 40 weeks which is the typical length of a pregnancy,” She explained further. “This whole thing is clearly about pregnancy seeing as he is taking wombs. It’s clearly not a woman seeking revenge because of the sexual assault so it has something to do with him seeking revenge for a pregnancy in his life.”

“Could even be his own, like he’s punishing women who look like his mother because he wishes he was never born,” Spencer ponders.

They pulled into the police station, she got out and walked in all with her head still in the notebook. “Find anything?” Hotch asked.

“Of course she did,” Spencer bragged about her.

—

They all took a break, going back to their hotels to get some rest. All agreeing that since the media hasn’t released anything about this case yet the killed has no idea. They take it in faith that he will stick to his 2 to 4 month waiting period.

They all returned the next morning, refreshed and ready to resume their findings. JJ and Emily spent most of the morning interviewing families of the victims, specifically asking if they knew the vic was pregnant as well as what significance the park played in or around their pregnancies.

Y/N sat in silence with a coffee, flipping through her notebook. Hotch and Morgan were running over ideas they all had with Garcia on the phone.

“Hey, Spence?” Y/N called boy wonder over from the map he had been staring at.

“Yes, my love?” He says softly.

“I think I have an idea, can you go over it with me before we tell the team?” She asked.

“Of course,” he took a seat beside her.

“Why do I have an IUD?” She asks him in a whisper.

“In case you get raped in the field,” he whispered back.

“More specifically.”

“So you don’t get pregnant as a result of a rape in the field.”

“The sexual assaults in his mind, are him getting these victims pregnant. But they’re already pregnant when he picks them right?” She explains, “So that when he removes the uterus postmortem it's his way of aborting the child.”

“So this is all about abortion?” Spencer confirms.

“More specifically to do with how you said he regrets being born,” she corrects.

“Do you think he’s the product of a failed abortion?”

She nodded her head, “yeah and that by taking the whole uterus, and the strangling, and the stabbing, both mother and baby are for sure dead.”

“Hotch!” Spencer called across the room. “Y/N figured it out.”

They waited for JJ and Prentiss to finish an interview before they all piled into an office to discuss Y/N’s idea.

“Is there even any way to know if someone is the product of a failed abortion?” Prentiss asked after Spencer and Y/N took turns explaining how they came to their conclusion.

“Probably the best way would be to search for babies born with the common disabilities that occur in babies of failed abortions, but make sure they were born in November,” Y/N explained.

“Why November?” Penelope asked over the phone.

Y/N took a whiteout marker and started writing on the whiteboard.

“The 5 victims that died from loss of blood were all exactly the same, they were murdered in June, February, June. November and November.” She explained.

Writing “J F M A M J J A S O N D” on the whiteboard. Circling February, June and November.

“February, conception. 10 months later, or 40 weeks, is November. June is 4 months along meaning that would be when the mother either had the abortion, be it medical or homemade,” Y/N explained.

“Last year alone 146 of the 164,045 abortions resulted as a failure. When this happens most women choose to have the second procedure, or a D and C. Or they can carry the baby the rest of the way to term,” Spencer explained. “Children brought to term from a first-trimester medical abortion failure often have limb or digit abnormalities while infants born from non-medical approved abortions are more likely to have congenital problems.”

“However someone without a limb would not be able to do what our unsub is capable of. Digging graves, abducting, dragging dead bodies, it’s a lot of effort,” JJ added.

“Exactly, which is why I think our unsub probably has a mental disability.”

“Non-medical abortions, most often referred to as the poor person’s method, is taking a non-FDA approved ulcer treatment drug called Misoprostol, which is causing an epidemic of birth defects all along South America and parts of Asia,” Spencer added. “It induces contractions, causing women to deliver babies far too early to survive outside of the womb. If taken after the first trimester, and unsuccessful it can cut off oxygen to the brain long enough to permanently damage development in the frontal lobe.”

“Did the families mention anything about the park?” Y/N asked Prentiss and JJ.

“So far 4 of the victim's husbands say their wives announced they were pregnant on park benches, near the children swinging. They said it was the typical, ‘that could be us one day, that day came sooner than you thought’ moments from movies.” JJ confirmed.

“Let’s deliver the profile,” Hotch announced, following them all into the precinct.

—

They spent the next few hours looking for anyone with birth defects or mental disabilities that could be a potential suspect. Asking the other officers as well as anyone around the park about the type of man they were looking for.

Morgan and JJ patrolled the park while Rossi and Prentiss asked around on the street.

“Lynette Hayward,” Y/N whispered to herself, standing up and rushing through all the papers on the table in front of her.

“She was the only one who wasn’t pregnant, she was the only one who wasn’t reported missing, she was the oldest and in her youth, she had brown hair and green eyes. What if she’s his mother?” Y/N expressed to Spencer and Hotch who were watching her scramble around.

She pulled her phone out and called Garcia, “what’s cooking good lookin’?” Penelope answered.

“Can you help unscramble my egg brain?” She joked right back.

“Sure thing, whatcha got?”

“Lynette Hayward, does she have children, was she ever pregnant, or put someone up for adoption?”

“Let me check into it and I will call you right back!” Garcia said, hanging up and going right to work.

“Is there anyone here who knew Lynette Hayward about 30 years ago? She would have been 26 to 29, my height, brown hair, and green eyes?” Y/N announced to the whole Police Department.

“I did,” an officer said, standing up from the desk on the other side of the room.

She waved him over, pulling out a chair and asking him to sit.

“Was Lynette ever pregnant?” Y/N asked.

He thought for a moment, licking his lips and harkening all the way back to his 20’s. “There was a summer that no one saw her."

"When was this?" Spencer asked.

"From June to November, not a single person saw her. We thought maybe she was doing summer classes somewhere,” he explained.

“Were there any children dropped off at a fire hall or a hospital that November?” Spencer asked.

“There was a baby left in the park, poor little guy had been left out there in the cold,” he said.

Hotch, Spencer and Y/N all took a deep breath and looked at each other. “That’s him.”

Garcia called back then, “I found 1 baby left abandoned in the park in November of 1979, he was diagnosed with a cleft lip and palate, seizures, and later on he was diagnosed with diabetes, Crohn’s disease and Asperger's syndrome.”

“Name and address?” Spencer asked.

“That's the difficult part, he was born, operated on and handed over to the state and cared for by a foster family that named him Jake Alexander Ingrid. At the age of 6, he was adopted by them fully. When he was 12 he dropped out of the public school system due to bullying that left him in the hospital with a broken arm. After that, his trail goes cold.”

“How cold?” Y/N asked.

“If I didn't know better I'd say he was the one missing not Lynette,” Garcia confirmed.

“Does anyone live in Lynette’s house?” Hotch asked.

The sound of Garcia’s typing was all they heard over the phone, “her bills are being paid on time, someone is in her trailer. I’ve sent the address to your phones.”

“Let’s go.”

Hotch kicked the trailer door in, “FBI!”

He was asleep, startled awake in the bed that used to belong to his birth mother. He cried, overwhelmed with the 3 guns pointed in his face. Hotch sighed, cuffing him and reading him his rights.

“Why are the worst ones always the sadist?” Y/N asked Spencer as they watched forensics tore apart the trailer.

“Sad in what context?”

“His whole life was so fucked up, it sucks. All those women crossed paths with him and he took his fucked up life and ended theirs, as well as their babies,” Y/N couldn’t stop shaking her head as she spoke, disgusted with the whole situation.

Spencer wrapped her up in a hug, “if we spend all our time wondering why the world is like this we won't have enough time to bring justice to the victims.”

“which is the best outcome we can ask for,” Y/N agreed.

“Dr, Reid, agent Y/L/N?” An officer interrupted their hug and watched them awkwardly pull away from each other quickly.

“Yes?” Spencer answered.

“We found the wombs.”

The worst fucking sentence she had ever heard. “I can’t look at that.” She said, walking away to join JJ and Prentiss standing by the SUV.

“Good job kid,” Morgan said, wrapping his arm around her. “You’re almost as smart as boy wonder over there.”

“Just call me Mrs, boy wonder then,” she joked.

“Don’t tempt him!” Prentiss joked.

Y/N turned back to see Spencer walking out of the trailer, a shade of green spreading across his skin. “Excuse me,” she said walking towards the ambulance that was on standby.

“Dr. Reid looks like he might be sick,” she said, taking an EMT with her towards him.

Sure enough, Spencer leaned over the bushes and hurled before passing out into the EMT’s arms. Morgan and Hotch came running over to him, helping get him into an ambulance.

“What happened?” Morgan asked.

“He took a look at the recovered womb’s the forensic team found,” Y/N explained.

“That would do it,” Hotch agreed.

Y/N rubbed her hand along Spencer’s shoulder, “good catch,” the EMT complimented her as he took Spencer's vitals.

“I know him well.”

“Too well,” Morgan agreed. “You’d think you were cut from the same cloth.”

“No,” she said softly, gripping Spencer’s hand in her own as he started to stir a little. “We’re cosmically connected, made from the same space rock that split during the big bang.”

“I love you,” he whispered, awake the whole time she was speaking.

“Yeah, yeah,” she teased him, “I know, save your strength, you’re still all pasty white.”

“Gross,” Morgan smiled, turning away from the ambulance

chapter 4

Prentiss convinced Y/N and Spencer to take the weekend off in Nevada to go visit their parents. They agreed that it would be nice, seeing as neither of them thought to tell their moms that they met again let alone that they were together.

Y/N walked into the Nursing home first, looking for her mom in her office as Spencer walked in quickly to go find his mother.

“Hey mom,” Y/N smiled as she knocked on her mother's office door.

“Y/N!” She yelled, shocked to see her eldest baby standing in front of her for the first time since last Christmas. “What are you doing here?”

“Remember how I moved?” She started there.

“Yes?”

“Well, my new neighbour ended up being Spencer Reid, and he introduced me to the BAU and I helped them with a case, so they hired me, and now I work for them and we just finished a case in Winnemucca and me and Spencer are dating. He’s here too and we’re taking the weekend off to tell you and Diana,” she had never rambled so fast to her mother before in her life.

“Holy shit?” Her mother was shocked, “this all happened in the last 3 weeks? Is that why you’ve been too busy to text me?”

“I’ve been on 5 cases in the last 3 weeks, I was swamped,” she smiled, her eyes welling with tears.

Her mom walked over to her and wrapped her up in her arms, holding her close. “My baby, this is everything you wanted why are you crying?”

“I haven’t taken a moment to actually understand that this is all real,” she whispered.

Her mother pulled back, looking in her eyes with a stern look. “Is he good to you?”

She laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes. “He’s wonderful.”

“Diana is in the game room, let’s go see them,” she tucked her arm under Y/N’s and the two of them walked arm in arm towards the game room.

Diana stood up as she saw them walk in, “Debbie’s daughter?” She asked.

Spencer nodded with a large smile on his face. “This is Y/N Y/L/N, my partner.”

“I know you,” Diana said softly, reaching out to pull her into a hug. “You would read to me on Thursdays after Spencer left for CalTech.”

“Really?” Spencer asked.

“I knew you were here as often as you could be, and I felt bad she didn’t have any other children to come see her,” Y/N explained. “I know if my mom was here and my brother couldn’t visit I’d fill in.”

“It was lovely, I still have the book you gave me before you left for the academy,” Diana’s smile was as big and bright as Spencer’s.

They all sat together, sharing stories with each other. It seemed like their mothers enjoyed sharing embarrassing kid stories to make Spencer and Y/N blush back and forth.

Before they knew it, it was 3 pm and visiting hours were coming to an end and Debbie’s shift was about to end as well. “Where are you both staying?” She asked.

“At a hotel downtown,” Y/N explained.

“Nonsense, stay with me and your father!” Debbie insisted.

Y/N shook her head, “we can come to visit for dinner tomorrow, but we need some space.”

“You know how it feels to be in love especially this young Deb, I’m sure you understand,” Diana patted her on the shoulder.

“Go on, have fun. But tomorrow dinner starts at 6:15, Levi and Lizzie also home this weekend,” Debbie smiled, hugging both Spencer and Y/N before Diana.

“Would Diana be able to come to dinner at our place?” Y/N asked.

“I think I can pull some strings,” Debbie agreed, “have a good night tonight guys.”

“We will,” Spencer smiled, taking Y/N’s hand and walking with her to the parking lot.

They both sighed as they sat in their rental car. “That went well,” Y/N said softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you visited my mom?” Spencer asked, holding her hand again.

“I was going to, there’s so much I want to tell you but we haven’t had enough personal time to get through it all, every time we talk lately it’s about murder,” she replied.

“Let's go get a table at a nice restaurant and tell each other everything.”

“I have something to do first, can I drop you off at the hotel and meet you there?” She asked.

“absolutely.”

-—

She drove to her parent's place as fast as she could, they were all just sitting down in the living room when she walked in the door. “Hi sorry I can’t stay I just want to grab a dress from my closet.”

She kicked her shoes off and ran up the stairs to her bedroom just like she would have after school. Her room hadn’t changed much. Her desk was still in the corner, her bed was made, and her mom now used it for storage. There were boxes, lamps, pillows and a million folded blankets all resting on her bed and scattered along the floor.

She shuffled some things out of the way of her closet door and quickly looked through all the bagged dresses she had left here. Minoring in political science and volunteering with government organizations in college meant she had a dress for every occasion, times the 4 years she was there.

“Cocktail, dinner, black tie, prom, homecoming,” she flicked through them all, “funeral,” she said as she stopped. “Why is this here?”

She pulled out a black dress she wore to a democratic representatives fundraiser, it was an off-the-shoulder, 3/4 length sleeve, plunging neckline, skin-tight dress with a slit to show some leg. It was perfect.

She placed it on the edge of her bed and dug out the black heels that she originally bought to go with the dress. She found a strapless bra in her dresser, and a cute pair of underwear buried at the back of her drawer.

She closed her door and quickly changed, walking across the hall in her heels to fluff her hair in the mirror and figure out how the fuck she was going to do her makeup here.

Just then her brother's wife came walking up the stairs, “Y/N?” She knocked on the bathroom door before coming in.

“Hey Lizzie,” she smiled. “Do I look okay?” She asked.

Lizzie looked her up and down with a shocked look on her face, “yeah what’s the occasion? I didn’t even know you were home?”

“It’s a long story, my boyfriend and I were here on a case and we’re staying for the weekend, you get to meet him tomorrow!” She filled her in as she searched the bathroom drawers for makeup.

“What do you need?” She asked.

“Do you have your makeup kit here? We’re like the same shade right?”

Before she knew it, Lizzie was making her sit on the edge of the tub while she did Y/N’s makeup for her. “Remember when you did my prom makeup?” Lizzie asked.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “You and Levi looked so good together that night.”

“Not as good as you look right now, he’s going to eat you alive,” she hyped Y/N up.

“You think so?” Y/N asked, standing up to take a look in the mirror.

“Absolutely!!!”

She took a deep breath and shook the nerves out, “okay I have to go,” she said running back to her room for her phones, wallet and badge.

“Go get him, SSA Y/L/N,” Lizzie smiled as she watched y/n steadily run down the stairs in heels, clicking on the hardwood as she ran.

“Wait!” Her dad yelled from the table, “don’t I get to see you before you leave?”

She ran into the table room, quickly hugging her father at the head of the table and kissing him on his bald head. “I’m late for my date, I love you, I’ll be home tomorrow,” she said running back towards the front door and to her car.

She was like a mad chicken running around with her head cut off. She took a breather in the car before starting the engine and making her way back downtown.

She left her car out front with the valet, saying she would be back in a minute. She dug her phone out of her wallet and called Spencer. “I’m in the lobby.”

“I’ll be right there.”

She waited by the elevator, she pulled her boobs up into her bra and wiggled the wire till they looked okay, then she straightened her dress out. She never felt this nervous when she wore this dress the last time, she’s never felt this nervous period, actually.

Spencer Reid did something to her that she couldn’t quite describe. But if she had to, she’d say he makes her feel alive.

The elevator dinged and Spencer walked out in one of his best suits. He was looking down at his button as he stepped out not seeing her at first.

She smiled at him, waiting for him to look up. When he did his eyes grew three times their normal size and his mouth dropped. He stopped right in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders and lightly running his hands down her arms. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“Could say the same thing about you Dr. Reid,” Y/N teased as she pulled on his tie.

She pulled him down by his tie and pressed her lips against his. Never before had either of them been a big fan of PDA, but this was an exception.

She pulled back from him and tucked his tie back into his jacket. Smoothing out his sleeves before taking a step back and handing him the keys. “Lead the way doctor.”

He extended his arm to which she wrapped her arm around. He walked her to the front of the lobby, watching as the bellhop held the door for them.

Their car was still there, waiting with the valet who opened the door when he saw her return. She sat on the passenger side, fixing the slit of her dress to not show too much just yet.

Spencer joined her, sitting in the driver's seat he started the car and drove off.

He reached his hand over to place it on her thigh, where it belonged. He gripped her leg and felt down to where her holster was. She saw his eyebrow raise as he looked down, moving the side of her dress to see her gun strapped to her leg.

“Gonna shoot me if I’m not on my best behaviour tonight, agent?” He laughed.

“Nevada is a concealed carry state, and I don’t trust anyone,” she said. “Plus I look like this tonight, do you know what the crime rate is in Los Vegas-? Don’t answer that, of course, you do,” she teased him.

“It’s pretty hot,” he complimented her.

“What? The gun or my attitude?”

“The fact that you don’t take shit from anyone, you’re a badass and I never have to worry about you.”

“What if I want you to worry?”

“I’m always going to worry, I just mean you’re not a damsel in distress. I can go into every situation knowing you’re smarter on your feet than anyone on the team, and as long as you’re there we’re coming out alive,” he explained better.

“That’s the best compliment,” she felt bashful all of a sudden. She put her hand on his and squeezed it. “I love you, Spencer,” she finally told him.

“I love you too,” he smiled.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t said it back yet.”

He pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant they were going to, returning his focus fully to driving. He pulled into a parking spot and put the car in park.

“I knew you’d say it when you were ready, I’m in no rush to hear it,” he leaned over the centre console and kissed her on the lips.

He got out of the car and walked around to open her door, helping her out before extending an arm out for her once more.

He made a reservation while he was alone at the hotel, getting a table in the back away from everyone else. It was a round table with a booth stretching all the way around the table. The back of the chair tall enough to enclose them in their own little world for the time being.

They were at a cute little stake house, one where you got to pick the exact piece of meat you wanted and they did it however you asked. They ordered drinks and enough bread to make the waiter look at them differently.

“Tell me the most random fact about you,” Y/N asked as soon as the waiter left to tell the kitchen their order.

“When my mom’s schizophrenia started getting bad, she thought that the government used dryers to take our socks for DNA and clone us, so whenever one of my socks went missing she freaked out. After that, I started wearing mismatched socks all the time so that that way she would never notice which of the pairs were missing since I never wore them that way anyway.”

She smiled the whole time he talked, absolutely in love with him. He was her everything. “So that’s why I’ve got so many random socks around my house.”

“It’s worse at my apartment,” he smiled again. “Your turn.”

“The first time I ever rode a bike without training wheels was because I stole my neighbour's bike and took off with it down the road,” she laughed.

“Why?”

“I think my mom said I couldn’t take my own training wheels off yet, so I took matters into my own hands.”

“See?” He shook his head lightly. “Badass.”

“When was the last time you were in Vegas?” She asked.

“Earlier this year when we reopened the Riley Jenkins case,” he said softly.

“oh, my mom was telling me about that one! Your mom went off her meds to help remember if your dad was involved right?” Y/N recalled.

He nodded, “do you know what really happened?”

“I have the gist, Lou killed Gary in revenge for Riley.”

“That's not all of it,” he said lightly. “Gary was watching me, and my mom told Lou that the way he looked at me, he might have been the one who hurt Riley. And then she witnessed Lou kill Gary.”

“Holy shit Spence, I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “Did you know Gary was my neighbour?” ,

“No?”

“Yeah we were 4, my brother was 2 and my mom was pregnant again, and Gary kept taking photos of my brother through the fence. My dad threatened to kill him a few times and then we finally moved across town,” she explained.

“How is it that our lives were so intertwined, and yet it took 20 years for us to actually connect again?” He asked.

“The same thing happened to my parents.”

“What’s their story?” He asked.

She moved around the table to sit closer to him, taking his hand in hers. “My dad is 8 years older than my mom, they met when she was 17 and he was 26 and they became good friends like he was her older brother. They realized years later that my dad delivered newspapers to the town my mom lived in, and he saw her basically grow up playing in the yard. Then his best friend always invited him to his cabin and when he finally went, the lot across from them was my mom's family cabin. They were always so close but never knew each other till they were meant to. And now they’ve been happily married for 30 years.”

“There's an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to each other,” Spencer explained.

“It took 500 years of coincidences to bring us together,” she said softly. “Which kinda makes the 20 years of admiring you from afar not seem so long.”

“From here on out let’s make every moment count then,” Spencer suggested, “we’ve been barely dating for 3 weeks I’m not going to ask you to marry me right this instant, but I do intend to spend the rest of my life with you in whatever capacity I can. Because I think you’re it for me.”

She could bask in the feeling of her heart fluttering like this for the rest of her life, it was like butterflies but completely calm. True happiness at its finest.

“Let’s make a deal,” she said softly, “in 1 year we come back here, and if we feel the exact same way as we do right now, you can propose to me.”

He put his pinky out for her, she wrapped hers around his, before kissing each other's knuckles. “Promise.” Spencer and Y/N said at the same time.

—

Back in the hotel room, she didn’t even bat an eyelash before slamming Spencer against the door. She slid her thigh between both his legs and boxed him in.

She undid the single button of his suit jacket, shushing Spencer. She pushed it off his arms, knocking it to the floor. She loosened his tie, tossing it to the side, still around his neck, while she unbuttoned his shirt.

He was completely silent and still. She was in control.

She tossed his shirt to the ground next. Holding onto his tie as she pulled him down into a heated kiss.

“Take my dress off,” she breathed into his mouth, feeling his hands reach around her back for the zipper.

He pushed the sleeves down her arms, watching the dress gather at her ankles before she stepped out and kicked the fabric out of the way. She tugged him by his tie towards the bed.

“Strip,” she instructed him. “Not the tie.”

“Underwear too?” He asked as she dug through his suitcase.

“yes.”

She returned with 2 more ties. Looking at him, butt naked on the bed. She stepped out of her underwear and the uncomfortable strapless bra. She set her gun in the hotel safe with her badge and returned to the bed.

“Would you be willing to try something?” She asked.

“anything,” he said, overly eager.

“Would you tie my hands to the bedpost and blindfold me and just do whatever you want?”

“Hold on,” he got off the bed and opened his go-bag side pocket. “I have a blindfold for the plane.”

“So you want to?”

Actions speak louder than words, he would always say.

He dimmed the lights down, got on the bed and roughly picked her up laying her back against the pillows. He tied her left hand first, and then her right hand. He took a hair elastic off the bedside table and put her hair back as best he could before he rested the blindfold against her forehead.

He hovered over her. “Anything I want?” Spencer confirmed.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“Ground rules?”

“Yellow for slow down, red for stop?” She shrugged.

“You really mean anything?”

“I trust you, Spencer Reid, make me feel good,” she smiled.

He kissed her on the nose before coving her eyes with the blindfold.

She had always wanted to try this, it was a kink she had always been determined to try. She took a deep breath and tried her best to listen to him as he moved to sit between her spread legs.

He ran his hands up her thighs, over her hips before following the curve to her waist. He gripped her waist tightly and leaned forward, pressing his mouth to her stomach, breathing her in as he kissed.

She wasn’t embarrassed about her tummy, for the first time in her life she loved her body. She felt him kiss all over her chest, dragging his bottom lip along her skin. He licked a stripe between her breasts, dropping his chin to her chest then to blow lightly over the wet trail.

She felt her nipples harden, she could physically hear the smirk that spread across his face.

He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, cupping her breasts with his hands as he groped her lightly. She squirmed, trying her best to grind her hips against his.

He pushed her hips against the bed, “be patient.”

He disappeared then. She felt his weight shift and get off the bed. She let out a deep breath, knowing she told him he could do anything and that included punishing her. She literally asked for it.

“I picked something up after you dropped me off,” she heard him say from the other side of the room.

He walked around for a minute, taking something out of a hard plastic container. He struggled with ripping it, she heard papers fall the floor and something hard hit the floor. “Shit.”

She heard him walk towards the bathroom, she crossed her ankles and just waited.

He came back to the bed, moving her legs apart like they were when he left. “stay.”

He crawled between her legs once more, his hand brushed her thigh and it was cold and wet like he washed his hands.

“Can I touch you?” He asked softly. She nodded her head feverishly.

She heard a small buzzing, an all too failure sound. The first place she feels the vibration is in her belly button. Causing her to let out a shocked little giggle.

“Shhh,” he smiled.

He dragged the little bullet vibrator down her stomach, over her pelvis and finally, finally, against her clit. She let out a moan that sounded more like a sigh of relief.

All she wanted was for someone else to control her pleasure, surprise her, set the rhythm, the speed, everything. She spent so long pleasuring herself, she was so ready to sit back and just take it.

Spencer felt the same. He took his time, feeling every inch of her skin, kissing every single place he wanted to. He spent so much time just looking. Finding freckles and scars and kissing them. He was mesmerized by the fact she was real, that a beautiful woman would lay down in front of him, spread open like this and just let him explore. It felt like the best wet dream his brain could ever conjure.

She could feel him getting closer to her. His weight shifted and she felt his breath on her leg. She took a deep breath, sucking in her stomach in the anticipation of feeling a tongue on her for the first time ever.

He turned off the vibrator. Setting it to the side as he looped his arms around her thighs. Just admiring the view. Just then her whole body shivered as she anticipated the heat of his tongue.

He pressed a kiss to her clit first before flattening his tongue against her. “Sweet fucking Jesus Christ,” she gasped.

“I’ve never done this before,” he breathed against her.

“Explore away, sir,” she whispered.

He clearly did research, if he didn’t just say this was his first time eating someone out, she would think he was an expert. She regretted having her hands tied up at that moment. She squirmed, he held her hips down. She gripped the ties around her wrists wishing it was Spencer's hair.

She was never big into overstimulation or denial, never having the willpower to keep going after making herself cum once. Spencer, however, had the ability to bring her to the edge again and again without ever letting her spillover.

She didn’t beg, she didn’t complain, she sat there in the blissful feeling and waited. It was heavenly.

“Spence,” her breathing was heavy.

He hummed, letting her know he was listening. His tongue still wiggling back and forth on her clit.

“Can you please just fuck me now?”

He kissed his way back to her mouth. All up her stomach, over her breasts, her neck and jaw. She could taste herself on his lips, “untie me?” She asked softly.

He let one hand free, which she immediately used to grip his hair. The second hand was freed and she pushed the blindfold up and worked her way into a sitting position while he kneeled in front of her.

“Anything else you want to try?” She asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking into his eyes once again. She pushed his hair out of his face and just looked at him.

“Lie back and roll over,” he instructed.

He pulled her into a face-down, ass-up position and aligned himself with her. Pushing in little by little till he bottomed out. He reached around the bed for the vibrator and placed it in her one hand.

“You decide when you cum,” was all he said before he started fucking her.

She white-knuckled the pillow as he rammed into her, she was arched in the most perfect way for him to hit her g spot every time he rammed into her.

“My hair,” she gasped, wanting him to grab her by her ponytail as he fucked her.

With one hand on her hip to steady her and the other in her hair, he fucked into her like his life depended on it. Her legs were quaking, she felt like she was going to explode if she didn’t cum soon.

She flicked on the vibrator and pressed it against her own clit, feeling the familiar heat bubble in her stomach. “Fuck me, oh god,” she chanted.

Cuming with a shout, she dug her face into the pillow and all but screamed. Pushing back against Spencer as he bucked into her one last time and erupted inside of her.

His hips shook as he emptied his load before slowly pulling out and dropping down beside her.

She turned her head to look at him, eyeliner and mascara all smudged around her eyes, makeup all over the pillow. She was trying her hardest to catch her breath, staring at him with a smile on her face.

“If sex was an Olympic sport, I think we’d win,” she complimented him.

“you think?” He asked, his breath just as shaky as hers.

She rolled onto her back, letting him cuddle into her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. “Everyone told me that the first time I have sex it’ll be underwhelming and uneventful, and yet every time we fuck I feel like I’ve run a marathon and I should invest in a wheelchair.”

He laughed, “would you put that in writing and send it to everyone from our high school?”

She smacked his arm. “and then I’d have to swat women off you with a bat if I wanted any alone time, you’re mine now.” She wrapped her whole body around him and held him there.

“I love you,” Spencer smiled.

“I love you, more.”

chapter 5

They packed everything into their car just to go to her parents house. There was something in Y/N’s gut that told her there was a case coming.

Her parents lived 30 minutes out of the city, on the edge of a cul-de-sac that faced a park. They had lived there since she was 5, it was her mom’s dream home. It was the only place in the town she had good memories in.

Y/N’s mother brought Diana home with her after work. They were waiting in the kitchen for Spencer and Y/N when they arrived. Tonights guests included not just them but Y/N’s youngest brother Levi, his wife Lizzie and their 2 year-old Chloe.

“There’s my girl!” Her dad cheered, standing up and rushing to give her a real hug. “Did you get taller?”

“it’s the boots,” she laughed, holding onto him tightly.

“You look great! The FBI is treating you well,” her dad was always one to compliment her. He pulled back and looked at Spencer. More like glared at him.

“Nice to meet you Sir, I’m Doctor Spencer Reid,” he said, shockingly extending his hand to shake her father's.

The profiler in her knew he was breaking his comfort zone to appease her baby boomer, ex-cop, father.

Her dad always did this thing when he met new men where he squeezed their hands to see how much they could take. “Harrison Y/L/N Sr.” She watched Spencers hand shake as he squeezed right back.

“Strong shake.” Her father complimented him. “She must have warned you.”

“No, he just knows how to read people,” Y/N laughed.

“Well come sit down Doctor Spencer Reid,” he teased him. “Let me interrogate the profiler.”

“Here we go,” Y/N laughed, placing a hand on Spencer's back as she led him into the kitchen.

They sat down together, Spencers mom, Diana, just across from him at the table. They smiled and nodded at each other in a quiet little hello.

“I would ask you to tell me a bit about yourself, but Y/N has kept me all caught up with you over the years,” her dad said. “You went to CalTech at 13, somewhere in there you got a degree from MIT, she idolized you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she blushed.

“It’s very flattering, but if anything I’m now huge fan of her’s. In the last 3 weeks she has been the one to find the major break in 3 of our cases. She is amazing at what she does, you raised an incredible woman,” Spencer replied, praising her in a way that made her heart flutter.

“Go on then, tell us about these cases then,” her dad asked.

And with that they got lost in all things horrific. Spencer explained, verbatim, how each case went down and exactly what Y/N came up with to solve them. She answered little questions here and there but mostly it was Spencer showing off how much he loved his girlfriend.

Her mom passed out dinner plates in the middle of the talk, some how all of them were able to discuss cases and eat at the same time. Her mom made burgers and potato salad for dinner, just something simple for them all.

“Did you really offer to fuck a serial killer?” Her brother asked, disgusted.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I knew in his sick twisted mind he wouldn’t be able to refuse a woman willing to let him do what he wanted and as soon as the weapon was down, so was he.”

“I always told you she’d be able to kick your ass, Levi,” her dad said. “Ever since she was a kid I knew she had it in her to wrestle someone to the ground.”

“Yeah, Spence didn’t believe me that I’m combat trained.”

“No,” Spencer interjected, “It’s not that I didn’t believe you, I just didn’t ever think you’d be able to take me down.”

“And did you?” Her mom asked.

Her face turned bright red. “Yeah, I showed one of my combat maneuvers on him, we were all horsing around and I showed them how to go from being pinned to the ground to being the one on top.”

“How?” Her brother’s wife asked.

“Yeah demonstrate!” Her mom innocently cheered them on not knowing she was mid sex with him when she showed him how to do it.

“Um okay, Lizzie come with me,” she said, saving Spencer the awkwardness of having to straddle her in the middle of her family home.

She laid down on the floor, “you basically have to just pin me down how ever you see fit.”

Lizzie, sat on her, holding her shoulders down with one forearm. Y/N, quickly flipped her onto her back, making sure to catch her head as she did so. Not wanting her to smack it off the hardwood floor.

“Like that,” Y/N stood up and helped Lizzie to her feet. “Made sure all the girls knew how to do that.” She lied.

“As you should!” Her dad cheered, “nice to know your team all has each others backs.”

“How do they all feel about you two?” Diana asked. She had been mostly quiet all night, just enjoying time outside of where she was used to.

“They love it, they’ve been placing bets about us,” Y/N laughed.

“Like what?” Her dad asked.

“If he would kiss me first, if we’d tell the team ever, they even had one about who is most likely to say I love you first, they’re insufferable,” Y/N ranted.

“So what team one?” Her brother teased, just trying the embarrass her.

“He kissed me first, he told the team that we were together after like 10 hours and he was the first to say I love you,” Y/N blushed.

“Does she still have the I love you problem?” Her mom asked innocently but received a death glare from Y/N.

“Uh no, she says it to me too.” Spencer noticed the awkwardness.

“Any plans for baby number two?” Y/N asked Levi, changing the subject faster than ever.

She’d be lying if she said she was listening to the answer, her ears were ringing and all she cold focus on was Spencer’s hand on her back. Her mom was about to pass out cake when she excused herself to the bathroom, and ended up in her old bedroom.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, hearing the words her mother said over and over in her mind. “Does she still have the I love you problem?”

She rubbed her hands over her eyes and just breathed. She didn’t want him to know about that yet.

Spencer knocked on her door, opening it softly and peaking his head in. “Do you want company?”

She nodded.

He kneeled down on the floor in front of her, running his hands along her thighs. “Are you okay?”

“I told you about Christopher?” She said softly.

“yes.”

“In order to get me to do what he did, he would always say I had to because he loved me,” she explained. A tear dripped down her cheek and landed on his hand. “And so for 7 years after I never told anyone I knew that I loved them.”

“That’s okay, you went through trauma. You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he soothed her.

“I want to though because, before you, I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand love, I thought it was weird and forceful and something dependent on coercion,” her voice was so tiny, she didn’t want anyone else hearing her. “Loving you is light and fluffy and special and safe, I didn’t want you to think just now that I said it this weekend to get it over with or something because I truly do love you.

He pulled her into a kiss, “I love you, more.”

She laughed, “we’ll see about that.”

—

Y/N and Diana were doing the dishes as her mom packed the leftover food into Tupperware containers. Debbie was just about to ask who wanted coffee when Y/N’s phone started to ring.

She sighed, drying her hands on a dishtowel before answering the phone. “SSA Y/N Y/L/N.”

“There’s been an explosion at a mall in Los Angeles and reports of 4 more planned, how fast can you and Reid get to LA?” Hotch asked.

“Um, we’re about 45 minutes from the airport.”

“We’re 4 hours out, we want you and Reid there ASAP. Is there any way we could send a helicopter to get you?”

“Yes, there’s a soccer field across the street from my parent's house, Garcia knows the address she can direct them where to go, we’ll be ready.”

“Debrief has already been sent to your phones, I need you and Reid to go to the LA field office and start communication with Garcia on victimology.”

“Got it.” She said as she hung up. “Spence we have to go!”

“What’s wrong?” Diana asked.

“We have an emergency in LA, they need us there immediately. There’s a helicopter coming to get us,” Y/N explained as she walked around the room towards her go-bag.

She unzipped it, unfolding her bullet-proof vest and putting it on. She adjusted her gun and made sure she had everything she needed. Spencer did the same at the table beside her.

“You are a badass,” her dad complimented her, filming her getting her gear on. “This is my daughter! FBI superhero! Kickass tonight kid!” He had an affinity for embarrassing her, but an even bigger obsession with showing her off.

He was like that with all of his children, first with her brother Harrison in the army, then with her other brother Levi and his swat training. Now his daughter was catching serial killers like it was nothing.

“Okay, we gotta go, the helicopter will be landing in that field in 3 minutes. Dad are you okay to take the car back to the dealership if this takes a while? We will be back for our suitcases after the case, I love you guys.” She said. handing her father the car keys and moving to put her shoes on.

“Got everything?” Spencer asked.

“Yep,” she smiled.

They walked out the door and across the street. Most of the neighbourhood watched a helicopter land in the soccer field as the sun was setting. They ducked as they ran getting in the chopper and strapping in.

“Agent Valdez, Nevada PD!” the officer in the pilot seat introduced herself. “We have just over an hour till we land, use the headsets to communicate with me if you need to!”

And they were off. She looked down to see her family waving up at them from their houses as the neighbours she grew up around took photos and videos of them leaving.

“What’s going on?” Spencer asked.

Y/N took out her phone and read over the debrief, “tonight at The Grove in Los Angeles, a small bomb went off killing 6 people and injuring 31.”

“Where did it go off?” Reid asked.

“Inside a small dress store that has been renting the space for the last 7 years,” Y/N confirmed. “I’m sure Garcia is looking into everyone who was injured or killed as well as the current and former employees.”

“It says here that the person who called 911 before the bomb went off warned of 3 bombs to come. Saying; ‘4 bombs in total the first in clear, the next is where her checks would clear.’” Reid read from the phone.

“So we need to find a connection between the dress store and a bank in the area,” Y/N said. “We need to go over that call more, have Garcia look into every aspect of the sound.”

“Where did Hotch say he wants us?” Reid asked.

“At the LA field office, he wants us working behind the scenes in correspondence with Garcia.”

Spencer sighed, “well, our weekend was fun while it lasted.

9:42pm PST

By the time the rest of the team landed and Hotch and JJ arrived at the field office, another 2 bombs had gone off at a Liberty Bank downtown LA.

“Garcia, do we have any connection from the dress shop to the bank yet?” Hotch asked.

“Nothing Sir, I have dug and dug and there isn’t a single person with a connection to both the bank and the dress shop within the last few months, I'm widening back 2-5 years but still nothing,” Garcia panicked over the phone.

“Is there any possibility our unsub is female? This to me feels like a scorned lover, maybe her husband is paying someone under the table who is cashing checks at that exact ATM that exploded and then went and bought a dress,” Y/N suggests.

“Garcia run with that as far as you can and call us back,” Hotch ordered.

“On it!” She cheered before hanging up.

Spencer looked around at all the info he and Y/N brainstormed while waiting for the team. “a female unsub would make the most sense.”

“Did we get any more clues for where the next bomb will be?” JJ asked.

Agent Cunningham from the LA field office shook his head, “nothing at the scene or over 911, we’re on the lookout for any suspicious calls and tips currently.”

“If you were cheating on your wife, after going to the bank and the dress shop where does she go with you next?” Y/N asked Hotch.

“Uh,” he shook his head, clearly faithful to his wife. “Dinner and a hotel?”

“So those are possibly the next two targets,” Y/N said, “but finding out what restaurant and hotel in the entirety of LA is like finding a needle in a needle stack.”

“I hate to say it,” JJ sighed, “but we might need one more explosion before we get a breakthrough.”

“All we can do is hope for minimal damage,” Y/N shot a soft smile over to her, “till then, what kind of woman in the area could make the type of bombs that are being used?”

“Almost anyone,” Morgan said as he walked into the room. “I was just looking at the debris and shrapnel, it’s a fairly simple bomb that anyone with basic knowledge or internet access could make.”

Hotch called Garcia once more. “Can you start a search for women 35-55 who are married, ask the NSA if we can search through any women in the LA area googling how to make bombs in the last month.”

“Of course, I’ve also been looking at the past transactions of the specific ATMs that were targeted, 13 of the people depositing cash and cheques there, recently bought dresses from the store at The Grove.”

“Any of them look like they are partaking in an affair?” Y/N asked.

“2 of them are lesbian women, 3 are drag queens and the other 8 are girls in high school depositing birthday money,” Garcia explained.

“Well thanks for looking, hopefully, the NSA has some hits for us,” Hotch said as he hung up. “I guess we wait.”

11:56pm

“We’ve got reports of an explosion in an all-female dorm at UCLA,” one of the LA agents said as he burst through the door.

“Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi,” Hotch said, “go to the scene and find out everything.”

Y/N called Garcia, “as soon as we know what room the explosion was in I need you to go back 10 years of women who lived in that dorm room and their connections to older men. Sugar daddies, teachers, anyone.”

“The 911 call shortly after the bomb say it was heard on the first floor, possibly room 119 as that's where the blast was heard. Luckily the girl who was supposed to be in that room was with her friend down the hall so we currently have no casualties here,” Garcia explained.

“Thank god,” JJ exclaimed, placing her hand over her eyes.

“In the last 10 years, 6 different women have all had that room,” Garcia said as she narrowed down her search. “Okay, here we go this is the juicy stuff!”

“What is it?” Hotch asked.

“From 2000 to 2002 Maggie Burton was working on a science degree at UCLA. She was working part-time, both years, as the main Chemistry professor's teaching assistant, she was depositing money from him bi-weekly to Liberty Bank.”

“Okay, who was the professor?” Spencer asked.

“Michael Thompson, 56, but that would be too simple now wouldn’t it?” Penelope teased. “Thompson is gay and has been in a domestic partnership since 1998, his Partner Adam Pearson, however, is bisexual according to the sugar daddy website he’s on,” she explained further. “Whether Maggie knows it or not, she had been getting paid to be Thompson's TA, as well as his boyfriend sugar baby.”

“So our unsub is Michael Thompson?” Hotch confirmed.

“By the looks of it, yes. Maggie stopped being a TA when she graduated and now she works with a cosmetics developer downtown. Every week she deposits 500 cash to the ATM, which is the exact amount of cash Adam has been withdrawing for the last 7 years,” she kept explaining, they could hear her keyboard clicking as she kept digging. “Look’s like Adam is filing to remove the domestic partnership and he bought a ring last week.”

“There’s the trigger,” Spencer confirmed. “Do we have a home and work address as well as where the next bomb would be?”

“Adam checked into a Hilton hotel downtown, suite 613 which he has been booking once a month for the last 7 years,” Garcia confirmed. “Sending the locations now.”

“I need a bomb squad sent to the Hilton hotel, evacuations should be done floor by floor saving floor 6 for last, I need agents on floor 6 to evacuate all rooms, except for 613, quietly without making a scene.”

“Sir, suit 612 was booked only for tonight by Michael Thompson, using cash,” Garcia cut him off.

“All rooms but 612 and 613 are to be evacuated, I need a direct line on the scene to room 612 when we arrive,” Hotch ordered as they all hurried towards the elevator.

—

On the scene, Reid, Y/L/N and JJ were sent up with the bomb squad to floor 6. Red lights in the stairwell were flashing to alert that there was an evacuation taking place, but the building was silent.

There were 14 rooms on floor 6, 4 of them being rented that night. Rooms 601 and 608 were the only two they had to focus on to evacuate.

JJ quietly knocked on room 601, “Hi sir,” she whispered. “My name is Jennifer, I’m with the FBI. We need to quietly evacuate this floor, if you wouldn’t mind grabbing your necessities and any other guests in the room, an officer will escort you down the stairs. In the parking lot across the street, there are people issuing refunds and information about relocations for the night.”

The man nodded, he quickly grabbed his things and followed an officer down the hall.

Y/N knocked on 608 next, a young woman answered. “Hi, my name is Y/N, I’m with the FBI. We need to quietly evacuate this floor-“

“I have 2 kids with me,” she whispered.

“Okay, are they awake?” JJ asked.

“My daughter, she’s 2, she’s out cold. My son is watching TV, oh my god my husband isn’t here,” she quietly panicked.

“Ma’am it’s fine, we have officers here to assist you down the stairs and across the street, there are relocation preparations being made. If you don’t mind, I can help you carry your daughter down the stairs?” Spencer said softly.

“Yes, absolutely.” She said, running into the room to gather all her things.

Spencer lifted the little girl up softly, not waking her at all in the process. He held her against his chest softly while the mother grabbed their necessities and her 6-year-old son before followed Spencer down the stairs.

JJ and Y/N stood in the stairwell, Y/N picked up her radio and called down to Hotch. “All civilians on the 6th floor have been evacuated.”

“Any movement in 612?”

“Yes sir,” one of the bomb squad members said. “With our tech, we can see 2 bodies in 613 and 1 in 612, all alive.”

“Any idea how many bombs were talking about?” Hotch asked.

“Not yet, we need a clear look inside the room. Snipers on the building across the street say the blinds are closed,” he explained.

“Hotch, have you gotten in contact with him at all?” JJ asked.

“No, he won't pick up,” hotch confirmed.

“Would you like one of us to knock?” Y/N asked.

“Not yet, I want you both to come down. If we’re knocking on his door we need to have a full plan in place,” Hotch ordered.

“Over,” Y/N said. Following JJ back down the 6 flights of stairs.

Down at the base of operations, Spencer was still holding onto the 2-year-old as the mother called her husband. He shushed her and held her close with a blanket over her back as she slept.

“Hotch,” JJ got his attention. “I noticed each room has vents on the connected walls, is there any way to get into 611 and snake in a camera to see what we’re dealing with?”

“That was my next suggestion,” a SWAT office said as he shook her hand. “We’re prepping the equipment now.”

“Can we also spray a sleeping agent through the vents? If we knock out the unsub we can just drag him out and see what’s going on?” Y/N suggested.

“Yeah that would work,” the SWAT officer said, “we have a sleeping agent in a compressed gas form that we can spray through the vents.”

“Okay, just in 612,” Hotch confirmed. Y/N I want you and Morgan up there to assist in making sure Maggie and Adam are evacuated safely while the bomb squad looks at what we have going on.”

“On it,” she and Morgan said at the same time.

One of the SWAT officers pulled them aside, handing them protective gear for the gas that will erupt into the hallway. She waved to Spencer in the lot as she headed across the street with the SWAT team. They ran up the stairs, it was exhausting but Y/N pushed through, up the six flights. They quietly unlocked room 611 and filled the room with officers.

First, they snaked a small camera through the vent, the image showing on the screen right away, “you seeing this Hotch?” Morgan asked over the radio.

“Crystal.”

“It’s a wall of C4,” one of the Bomb Squad officers quietly confirmed. “Fairly simple to dismantle, it looks like it’s a manual switch. Wait till he crosses the room, and then spray the gas. We need officers to be in the room as it’s sprayed. He needs to hit the floor nowhere close to the detonator.”

Morgan quietly opened the door and assembled the team in the hall, making movements with his hands as he instructed the men. The door kicker was in place, the officers were ready to file in.

The swat agent deployed the gas, they watched on the monitor as the unsub turned to look at the hissing sound, inspecting it before hitting the ground.

“NOW!” Morgan yelled. The door was knocked in and the unsub was in handcuffs.

Y/N ran to 613, knocking on the door as hard as she could. “FBI OPEN UP!” She yelled.

A half-naked man opened the door, “what?” He yelled.

“We need to evacuate the building right now, cover-up and follow me.” She ordered as the two victims covered themselves and followed her down the stairs.

Halfway down, she got a call over the radio. “Bomb has been defused, all clear on floor 6.”

“Bomb?” The man questioned.

“Yes sir,” Y/N confirmed. “your partner, and your science teacher, Michael Thompson, has been bombing places around the city that you two have been to, and was planning to blow you up tonight.”

“What the fuck?” Maggie asked.

“He’s under arrest, you’ll have your chance to ask him questions in court,” Y/N confirmed as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

She held the door for them and watched as they were whisked away by EMTs. She waited for another set for the unsub before turning around and running all the way back up the 6 flights to Morgan.

Morgan was standing over the cuffed, unconscious, unsub in the hallway. “Good job pretty girl!” Morgan high-fived her.

“Thanks,” she smiled, “let's get this bastard down into the ambulance. The elevators should go back up in a minute.”

“What? No more stairs?” Morgan teased.

“I might not be able to feel my legs tomorrow, I’ve been up and down those too many times tonight!” She smacked him.

“Sure that’s why,” he laughed as they waited for the elevator.

—

Spencer and Y/N packed up that night and took a short trip back to Los Vegas. By the time they arrived back on her parent's doorstep it was 5:32 am. 12 hours since they were last there.

She sighed at the front door and called her parent's home phone. “Hello?” Her father's sleep-ridden voice answered.

“Hey dad, it’s Y/N can you come open the front door for me? Please.” She asked nicely.

“Yep.” He hung up.

She watched the hall light come on from the front door. Waiting for him to slowly make his way down the stairs to the front hallway. He unlocked the door and welcomed them in.

“Your mom cleaned off your bed in case this happened,” he whispered, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“5:30, go back up to bed, we’ll lock back up, thank you,” she hugged him and sent him on his way.

She sighed and sunk down to sit on the bottom step. She tugged her boots off and left them in the hallway. Spencer picked them up and moved them to be in order with the rest of the shoes. He locked her parent's front door and turned off the entryway light.

“You need water or anything before bed?” Y/N asked.

“No, come on,” he took her hand and walked with up the stairs to her bedroom.

She closed the door behind him, peeling out of her clothes and climbing into bed first. She got under the covers and moved the pillows around to make sure they were how she liked them.

Spencer crawled in beside her, wearing just his socks and underwear. He laid flat on his back while she cuddled into his side. He kissed the top of her head and let out a deep breath as he settled into relaxation finally.

“I love you,” she reminded him.

“I love you, more.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #hypothetically

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azucanela · 4 years ago

Note

Hehe sooo how about Hawks, Shinsou and Kirishims straddling the reader, keeping them held down, unable to move. Instead of doing anything, he just stares at her in wonder for a long time until she furiously blushes.

STRADDLING THEIR S/O HEADCANNONS [ft. keigo takami, kirishima ejirou, shinsou hitsohi]

SUMMARY: Y/N does not understand why they’re staring but it is causing a lot of feelings.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

WARNINGS: almost a curse word, flirting, kissing, hawks being hawks, mostly soft and cute, like zero angst

A/N: i see you anon akshdkajshd you didn’t specify scenarios or headcannons or both so i went ahead and did scenarios <3 also this is such an odd mix but i love it.

KEIGO TAKAMI | PRO HERO HAWKS

SCENARIO

As a Pro Hero, Y/N had always viewed training as something necessary. To ensure that her skills were sharp and she was prepared for every possible thing a villain could throw at her. This is why Y/N always incorporated at least one day of training into her week, though this didn’t just benefit her, as she always invited her fell Pro, Hawks.

Keigo had a very different outlook on training, one that Y/N thought would cost him his life one day if she was honest. This outlook being that training was pointless, especially since their jobs required them to work constantly, which Keigo viewed as a way of training since they both worked nearly daily as top heroes.

Now, other Pro Heroes had suggested training together in the past, Keigo had denied every single one of them. Of course, none of them were Y/N L/N, his partner in crime— more accurately heroism. His flirting had gotten him nowhere with the girl, probably because she was one of the most oblivious people he knew.

More likely because Y/N perceived his flirting as a joke.

This is how Pro Hero Hawks and Pro Hero Y/H/N ended up in the position they are in now. Keigo had managed to get the jump on her while they were sparring, and now he straddled her waist, hands holding her down by the wrists as their faces remained infinitely close.

Y/N could feel Keigo’s breath in her face as he spoke, a smirk dawning his face, “got you.”

She’s glaring at him, hands jolting in his grasp to try and get free to no success. Y/N notices his smirk fade as he tilts his head at her, eyes falling over her figure as he sits on top of her. She finds herself pausing her movement as she eyes him, cheeks warming at his piercing gaze.

“Now is not the time for another one of your jokes, Keigo.”

His eyes snap back onto hers as he raises a brow, allowing a breathy laugh to escape him. “Jokes?”

Y/N practically slams her head down onto the mat in annoyance, averting her eyes from his as she responds, “yes. Where you flirt with me-”

“You think that’s a joke, sweetheart?”

If her cheeks weren’t already burning, they certainly were now. “You just like to make me flustered, you pompous-”

“Before you finish that mean sentence.” Keigo mutters, using his free hand to grip Y/N by the chin and force her eyes to meet his, “I do like the fluster you. But I also happen to like you.”

Y/N lets out a small laugh at his words, “of course you like me, we’re friends.”

His eyes narrow at her as he releases her chin and moves his face impossibly closer to her own, “can I kiss you?” The breath practically leaves her lungs as Y/N’s mouth gapes open at his words, and she’s just about ready to tell him off until she sees the look in his eyes.

He’s serious.

Y/N finds herself nodding slowly, only for Keigo to tilt his head at her, “I wanna hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Kiss me before I change my mind you as-”

And then his lips are on hers.

KIRISHIMA EJIROU

SCENARIO

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her as she ran down the halls of the dorms, Kirishima close behind as she made her way to her own room. This wasn’t necessarily an uncommon occurrence. Even before they were dating, their friendship had a lot of moments like this.

Pushing her room door open, Y/N gasped as Kirishima practically tackled her to the ground from behind, twisting them to ensure he took the brunt of the fall, the redhead wasted no time taking advantage of Y/N’s shocked and flipping them over so that he could straddle her waist.

“I caught you!” He exclaimed with a toothy grin, hands pinning her arms down onto the carpet as he pressed a messy kiss to her neck and pulling a laugh from her once more.

They’re heaving as they try to catch their breaths, having run around the entire dorm. And a small silence overcomes them, Kirishima’s eyes trailing over her, a small crease forming between his brows as he does.

Y/N finds herself tilting her head at the action, confusion flooding her as she watches his mouth gape open slightly. She can’t help it when her cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment.

“What?” She mumbles, averting her eyes from his.

Kirishima blinks, once, twice, finally her words register in his mind and he breaks out into a smile once more as he replies, “you’re just so...” He releases her arms, “beautiful.”

Y/N brings her hands to her face, a weak attempt at hiding her embarrassment as Kirishima pries them away, “you say such cheesy things.”

“And you love it.”

Faking a pensive look, Y/N brings a hand to her chin as she hums, “do I?”

Kirishima scoffs hands coming to hold her face in place as he peppers kisses across the skin, “you don’t?”

Y/N swatted playfully at his chest, a pointless try to stop his pecks against her face before he finally pressed a kiss on her lips, one that she melted into. Bringing her hands around his shoulders loosely, she hummed into the kiss, pulling him closer.

“I love you.”

SHINSOU HITOSHI

SCENARIO

Shinsou had insisted on training with Y/N, top of her class, the very class that Shinsou would be transferring to the following semester. Aside from being the top of her class, Y/N was also Shinsou’s only friend, something she hoped would change in the upcoming semester, especially if she managed to get him to join her lovely little friend group in Class 1-A.

These sessions benefited the both of them, seeing as Bakugo wasn’t the only target of the League of Villains at the training camp. Thankfully, Y/N had managed to escape them, but given how many times they’d attacked UA, she couldn’t help but feel the need to protect herself now.

Not that Shinsou knew about it, and hopefully he would never know about that.

Swinging her leg at his head, a hit that Shinsou used to be incapable of dodging, Y/N found these thoughts emptying her mind as he swiftly knocked her to the ground, legs coming to straddle her hips. Though Shinsou ensured not to place his full weight on her as his hands came to grip her own press them down onto the mat they’d been sparring on.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his words, apologizing for besting her. He’d certainly earned it after months of training. Though Y/N couldn’t help but feel shocked as she shifted beneath him, “Shinsou that was amazing! I’m so proud.” She offers him a grin, only to realize he’s not necessarily paying attention.

“How many times do I have to tell you, call me Hitoshi.” There’s a small smile on his face as he nods, and his eyes are on her, and there’s a distant look in his eyes that leaves Y/N wondering what exactly is going on in his head as he stares down at her. A silence falling between them, Y/N can’t help but think back to all the times her friends had suggested he felt... something more for her.

These thoughts coupled with his piercing gaze cause her cheeks to begin burning as she inhales deeply, eyes meeting his with newfound determination. Y/N uses his distracted state to force them to switch positions, knocking his back onto the mat with a grunt, Y/N seats herself on his hips before bringing her hands to his face and pressing her lips to his.

This probably wasn’t the best plan she could’ve come up with.

He’s frozen for a moment, but Shinsou’s arms come to hold her hips as one of Y/N’s hands leaves his face to move through his hair, causing Shinsou’s fingers to dig into her hips.

Pulling away, Y/N’s cheeks warm as she mumbles, “so, Hitoshi...” She clears her throat, “we should probably discuss that.”

Shinsou’s head falls against the mat as a laugh escapes him, “I can’t believe I like you.”

Y/N swats at his chest, though she laughs alongside him, falling onto his chest to lay her head against it.

This was nice.

A/N: i got a lil carried away with keigos... oops. also if you read all my headcannons its basically following the same y/n and whichever character because i always do the same backstory akjsdhakjshdkjash everyone has just had a first kiss like 23479283749 times. also WHY IS KIRISHIMA SO HARD TO WRITE FOR I CAN’T DO IT thats why his is short im sorry kjashdkjahsdkjhs

TAGLISTS[lmk if you wanna be added or removed via asks or replies]

BNHA: @shawkneecaps @1-800-schmacked

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incorrectbatfam · 5 years ago

Note

Can I get headcanons for an au where Bruce adopted the kids when they /were/ babies, please?

Use the bathroom, get comfortable, and maybe have some tissues on hand.

For these headcanons, we’re gonna assume they were adopted in order of age, and that they’re all under 18. So Dick and Babs are 16 (with Babs being older), Harper is 14, Cass is 13, Jason is 12, Tim is 7, Steph and Duke are both 5 (with Steph being older), Carrie is 3, and Damian is 1. Yes, I’m aware that it diverges from canon age gaps but once you keep reading you’ll see why I did that.

Now for the headcanons (in no particular order):

Alfred is “Grandpa” and Bruce is anything from “Dad”, “Pops”, “Old man”, “Baba”, etc. All the other adults, like Kate or Clark, are aunts and uncles.

Steph and Duke compete over everything, like who can tie their shoes the fastest or learn to ride a bike first. Steph makes a point of letting everyone know she’s older, but Duke fires back with the fact that he’s taller. They’re both at the top of their kindergarten class and are known for butting heads, but God help anyone who decides to pick on one of them.

Harper got her first period at school while wearing white shorts. Thankfully, Dick and Babs came in clutch.

At school, Kon told Tim that he got ten dollars every time he lost a tooth. Tim tried to hack the system by pulling a bunch of teeth out at once (thankfully to no avail) until someone caught him.

Babs has a different secret handshake with each person.

When Damian first came along, everyone expected Carrie to be angry or jealous since she’d no longer be the baby of the family. And she was a little jealous at first. But the moment she saw him, her eyes went wide and she whispered, “He’s so tiny” and vowed to protect him with everything she had.

The last business trip Bruce took was when Cass was a baby, and the reason why it was his last one was that while he was abroad, Alfred sent him a video of Cass taking her first steps and he burst into tears in the middle of a meeting because he wasn’t there to witness it in person.

Dick once used Damian as a wingman to pick up girls. It worked so well that Jason tried the same thing, only to have it grossly backfire on him.

Whenever Bruce needs a break, Alfred will call everyone to the living room for one of his infamous spy stories.

Cass is the queen of April Fool’s.

Tim, Steph, and Duke regularly climb on each other’s shoulders to try to reach the cookie jar.

Harper is a pro at getting gum out of people’s hair. Tim is a pro at the exact opposite.

Bruce gives Dick “the talk”. Dick then gives it to Harper who gives it to Cass who gives it to Jason and by then it’s so misconstrued by then that Bruce has to re-give it to all the kids.

One time Jason lashed out at school and it led to the teachers referring him to a therapist. Bruce stayed with him during the first appointment and Jason admitted to feeling unwanted because of what some kids at school said. Meanwhile, back at home, all the other siblings were trying to get their names to be Damian’s first word, like a competition. None of them ended up winning because when the other two came home, Damian called out to Jason. (And Jason cried on the spot because it didn’t matter what people said at school, he was wanted by the right people).

Group outings with the Kents or the Allens are a normal occurrence.

Harper gave Bruce a heart attack when she DIYed her hair dye and piercings.

The first time Tim saw a shooting star, he was convinced that aliens had arrived to take over the world. His conspiracy-driven panic spread to his younger siblings and that’s how Alfred found them all hiding in a blanket fort wearing saucepans as helmets.

Steph once got lost at the mall and the first thing she did was buy ten Build-A-Bears.

Cass regularly carries her younger siblings like suitcases.

Bruce never rushed Dick into getting a license or helping out around the house.

Harper once snuck on a train to the next town without telling anyone because she wanted to ask Kate advice on coming out.

Nobody got any sleep for the forty-eight hours when Damian’s favorite stuffed animal went missing.

Duke is a LEGO kid. Carrie is a horse girl. Together they created the ultimate toy equine sanctuary.

Bruce can’t ground the kids. They’ve unionized.

Jason is no longer allowed to pick movies on account of the time he chose an R-rated slasher.

It’s an open secret that Cass accidentally left Tim at a haunted house once.

Alfred custom sews a ten-person "get along" shirt.

Duke once snuck Damian to school for Show And Tell. Steph ratted him out almost right away.

Jason tried to make his younger siblings reenact Shakespeare. It lasted a good thirty seconds before it dissolved into people hitting each other with props.

As a big mystery/conspiracy theory person, Tim was wholly convinced that Damian was an extraterrestrial because the first time he saw him, it was at the hospital where Damian was hooked up to a bunch of machines after he was born. It wasn’t until after three different people explained the concept of preemies to him did Tim finally get it.

Carrie loves to play dress-up and will rope in anyone in the vicinity.

Bruce’s favorite song to sing to someone when they’re upset is Lean On Me by Bill Withers

Cass taught everyone obscenities in sign language and it was all fine until someone caught Babs at school and she got detention

Alfred can’t remember the last time the house was not babyproofed.

Between birthdays, holidays, Gotcha Days, and other special days, there’s always a reason to celebrate at Wayne Manor.

Whenever they fly on the private jet Duke's in the cockpit insisting he knows more about airplanes than the pilots (Alfred or Kate) bc he watched the Planes movie.

Harper got matching leather jackets for all the sisters.

Bruce gives Tim "coffee" that's 90% milk and a splash of coffee for flavor.

Cass and Jason communicate solely in inhuman grunts.

Carrie can and will latch onto the first person she sees like a koala bear.

There's a running gag among friends on how many siblings Dick has because he tells stories without ever using names.

Bruce comes home after a long day of work and everyone drops what they're doing to dogpile on him.

Harper only got an after school job to pay for her Club Penguin membership.

They all make snowmen in descending size order with Bruce's being this huge towering one and Damian's being like three inches tall.

The girls have a "no boys (except the baby) allowed" zone.

Carrie can't pronounce the letters "R" or L".

When Damian learns to crawl suddenly all the other family members become a jungle gym.

Bruce doesn't notice when someone invites a friend over without permission because what's a few extra kids anyway?

Harper comes out and for a week people wouldn't stop making bi puns.

They try to do that thing where each family member puts a different colored handprint on the mailbox and they end up running out of space.

As the oldest Dick gets stuck with babysitting or he's forced to let Jason tag along when he goes out (bc all parents make their older kids do that) and he resents it but at the same time no one can talk trash about his siblings.

Damian's animal collection begins when he brings in a mouse from the yard. (Cue the hilarious siblings-helping-him-hide-new-pets montages.)

Someone beat Bruce for “World’s most attractive man”, but that’s okay because he was voted “World’s happiest man” instead.

#ask #headcanon #batfamily #batfam #batkids #batsiblings #batclan #batman family #dc comics #alternate universe #tw food mention #tw mental health mention #tw angst #tw just in case

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arhvste · 4 years ago

Text

❝atsumu, kuroo, tsukishima and bokuto playing acnh ❞

miya atsumu

→ first he called the game dumb but he eventually gave in because everyone and their aunts were playing it and he didn’t wanna be left out

→ mf tries so hard for raymond at first

→ he insists it’s just because he can sell him for a lot

→ he really just wants raymond because he lowkey reminds him of osamu

→ anyways this fool doesn’t get raymond but ya know who he does get?

→ pedro

→ atsumu was ✨disgusted✨

→ “a clown?! a fukn clown?! yer jokin me!”

→ “aw don’t cry he fits in so well on your island 😹”

→ “sHUT YER TRAP 😠😠😠”

→ he hated pedro at first and for what?

→ eventually he starts vibing with him though

→ he decides that perhaps... pedro isn’t a bad guy after all

→ so atsumu develops a soft spot for him and begins to favour him over the rest of his mediocre villagers whose names he can’t be bothered to remember

→ ya know whose name he can remeber though?

→ BELLA 😡😠😡😠😡😡😠

→ the name that sparks rage in him

→ atsumu hits his villagers with his net shouting “nice cut g!” as a joke

→ with bella he’s not joking 😐

→ he hits her repeatedly and grins maliciously when she gets angry eventually

→ LOVES shoving her into pitfalls for absolutely no reason

→ cusses her out under his breath

→ writes hate mail to her only to get fustrated when she sends a nice reply about the flowers she saw the other day that reminded her of him

→ honestly bella girl it ain’t worth it, pack your bags and get outta there sis 😔

→ he wants her to get tf off his island because he doesn’t like her but he also kinda wants her to stay because he loves annoying her and making her angry

→ literally goes out of his way to buy the ugliest clothes for her to wear

→ he also has all his villagers address him as “big dick man”

→ pedro is special though 😳

→ pedro is the chosen one who gets to call him “tsumu”

→ JUST PEDRO 😤😾😡

→ literally thinks it’s the funniest thing when his villagers say “hey big dick man! the weather sure is great today isn’t it!”

→ you can hear his cackling from down the hall

→ thinks it’s the peak of comedy

→ oh and you’re not allowed to visit his island on a saturday

→ saturdays are “for the boys”

→ and by that he means he’s just going to buy a ton of matching clothes for him and pedro and talk to him all day until he eventually annoys pedro by accident to which he genuinely gets upset about

→ he doesn’t really bother with the fishing tourneys or bug offs

→ does catch a few though just to make sure he beats bella earns nook miles

→ pretty average island, not too much effort put into it yet

→ atsumu prefers channeling his energy and game time into bullying bella interacting with his villagers

kuroo tetsurō

→ bangs. it. tf. out.

→ literally acts like he doesn’t care about the game but has 395+ hours game time

→ uses the excuse it’s to play with kenma but kuroo actually got into it before kenma had the chance to look at it properly

→ fishing tourney KING

→ has multiple gold trophy’s and built a whole extension just to show them off

→ also treats all his villagers equally

→ he was a bit picky and only wanted cats and dogs on his island though

→ if you’re anything but a cat or a dog, i’m sorry but kuroo will timeskip you tf off of his island

→ has a soft spot for lucky but doesn’t admit it

→ he likes to come across as a “fair dictator of the island”

→ just admit luckys your fav and go oh my god

→ his house is really nice too

→ pretty much paid off all his debt and is financially responsible 😼

→ he will send you money over a few times a week because he claims he’s a good boyfie virtually and realistically

→ LOVES opening the letters from ‘mom’

→ it’s a small detail in the game but it brings kuroo comfort when he opens the letters and sometimes receives gifts from his virtual ‘mom’ 🥺

→ keeps all the letters from her because that’s what he would do if his real mom ever wrote to him

→ he’s a shameless timeskipper

→ “tetsu?? where tf did you get all this the games only been out a week??”

→ “👁👁 idk what you’re talking about baby”

→ the thing that annoys him the most are the fossils

→ HATES the stupid little marks in the ground that appear every day

→ also HATES talking to blathers

→ “spit it out already! i have places to be and villagers to see!”

→ completely ignores blathers’ real name and refers to him as ‘bokuto’

→ because he’s an owl duh

→ and bokuto also talks a lot

→ you thought it was a cute friendship thing at first but took it back when you heard him muttering under his breath

→ “oh my god just analyse the fossils already you himbo bird!”

→ “did you just call blathers a himbo? 😳”

→ “...no? 😳👀”

→ all in all, kuroo’s pretty good at the game

→ you like visiting his island because he has a ton of extra stuff he just gives you

→ “i never want to hear you call me a bad boyfriend again 😐”

→ “okay fine...but oNLY if you give me an ironwood dresser 😏”

tsukishima kei

→ another one who bangs it out

→ doesn’t really care when you point it out though

→ “you’re just jealous your islands a dumping ground compared to mine 🥱”

→ “k-kei 😔”

→ also sprints near where you’re fishing to scare the fish off and be spiteful 💀

→ little shit KNOWS you only need oranges to complete all the fruits on your island

→ he also knows you’re out of nook miles tickets

→ “aw that’s a shame, maybe if you were a bit better at the game you’d find them quicker but good luck! 😀”

→ oranges are his native fruit 😐😑😐

→ eventually he gives you them because you’re relentless and his patience runs thin after a while

→ good at the bug offs

→ pretty good at scorpion/tarantula hunting too

→ convinced spike is in love with him after the amount of scorpions and tarantulas he’s donated to him

→ his fossil exhibition in the museum is completed already

→ when blathers tells him the facts about the dinosaurs he just rolls his eyes

→ “i knew that already you stupid bird 🙄”

→ why’s everyone bullying blathers damn 😿

→ now, he likes henry

→ one of the few villagers he doesn’t bully

→ tsukki doesnt particularly care for majority of his villagers

→ henry has a special place in his heart though

→ maybe it’s because henry isn’t overly perky or he isn’t rude like the cranky villagers which tsukishima doesn’t like

→ henry is just??? so??? nice????

→ he can’t hate him

→ all his villagers have catchphrases that are dumb af

→ tsukki thought he was being clever when he made them but he just looks mean when other people talk to his villagers

→ “good morning i am useless! i love your outfit!”

→ henry gets to call him tsukki though

→ only because he figured out that henry reminds him of yamaguchi

→ that’s the only reason henry’s the exception to his bullying

→ i feel like tsukki has a pretty nice house too

→ he makes a lot of bells from selling scorpions and tarantulas and spare fossils he’s dug up

→ doesn’t really care about the size but has very detailed rooms

→ like all the furniture in his rooms follow a scheme

→ mf never opens his mailbox

→ doesn’t care for what the other “peasants have to say for themselves”

→ terraforming isn’t really his thing tbh

→ doesn’t like how slow the process and be and kinda likes the natural flat land

→ he likes laying down paths though

→ cusses villagers out when they get in the way though

→ full on shoves them and will keep shoving them until they get annoyed just because they’ve annoyed him

→ tsukki doesnt put as much time into the game as kuroo but his island is still pretty good and aesthetically pleasing

→ he just won’t help you make yours look like that 💀

bokuto koutarō

→ weeds. everywhere.

→ get so confused when he’s told he has to pick them all

→ “really? why can’t i just let them grow though i kinda like them 🤩”

→ mf ✨struggles✨ at the first stages

→ “y/n, you know i love you, please give me 30 iron nuggets 🥺💖💞💗”

→ ofc you give them to him because you’re well ahead in the game and don’t need them as much as he does

→ praises you like royalty but then he’s back to begging for materials from you 💀

→ doesn’t pay his debts

→ you’re gonna have to help him out here

→ doesn’t like the idea of having to constantly pay them off

→ like?? he doesn’t want a bigger house so why is this damn raccoon always bothering him to upgrade like leave him and his 2 room house alone 😠

→ has a the same camp bed and lamp from when he first moved out the tent 💀

→ insists he doesn’t need another one because the furniture all functions the same

→ he has a point tbf but his house just isn’t aesthetically pleasing

→ he also hoards stuff

→ common butterfly? yeah bokuto has 37 sitting in his storage

→ doesn’t like letting the bugs go because he “caught them fair and square”

→ you show him how to pay his debts back and then he dedicates a whole room to his stupid bugs 💀

→ loves blathers and celeste just because they’re owls

→ doesn’t care about what they’re wittering on about he loves interacting with them just because they’re the only owls in the game 😐

→ his favourite villager is kid cat

→ literally follows him around and sprints circles around him

→ l o v e s the chaos outside the town hall

→ 2 of his villagers are singing, 3 are running around and 1 is just watching like 🧍🏻‍♀️

→ HYPES his singing villagers tf up

→ “yeah get it bianca! turn it up!!! 🥳🥳”

→ has to match his villagers clothes at least once a week

→ also makes them all refer to him as “the best ace”

→ it boosts his ego a little more each time they say it

→ bokuto actually got raymond out of luck but had no idea who tf he was and just how popular he was

→ lets that mf go without advertising that raymond’s in boxes

→ atsumu screeches when he finds this out eventually

→ bokuto doesn’t care what his villagers look like everyone’s welcome

→ bella should move to bokuto’s island and move from atsumu’s because bokuto will accept her with open arms rather than a net to the head everytime he sees her 😿

→ ALWAYS remembers birthdays for his villagers

→ and always shows up to their birthday parties insisting he’s the life of the party and they’d be bored without him 😹

→ which is true to a certain degree cause the party only really starts when the player arrives

→ bokuto is actually okay at terraforming

→ quickly changes his mind after an hour of building and digging and restarts it all over again

→ he can make his island look pretty good

→ theres just weeds and buried fossils everywhere though 👁👁

→ also forgets his turnips go bad

→ literally the least financially responsible out of them all

→ it’s okay though because you help him and he eventually gets the hang of it

general taglist → @atsumuwoah @bloody-bella @bbymilkbread @miracleboy420 @doggonudez @atsunakaashi @peteunderoos @saturnfarie @toffees-main @zumisace @boosyboo9206 @totorosleaff @27kei

please send an ask to be added / removed from my taglist

ALL CONTENT BELONGS TO @KUROOSKULT ON TUMBLR 2020 PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, CHANGE OR PLAGIARISE

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svu-ncis-criminalminds · 5 years ago

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5 times Hotch didn’t kiss you and 1 time he did

Request : Hotch x bau reader where the reader is in her 20s and has no clue that Hotch’s feelings for her are mutual?

I decided to write this in the format of 5+1 so here is 5 times Hotch didn’t kiss you and 1 time he did.

For once a case ended in the most favorable way possible and the mood was light on the flight back to Quantico. You sat across from Reid, a chessboard between you, and Reid sat beside Hotch, Rossi was across from him. JJ, Prentiss, and Morgan were sitting around the other table, talking and joking. You and Reid were arguing semantics, you were trying to cheat at chess.

Hotch watched you laugh and couldn’t help but smile slightly himself at your joy. It wasn’t often you all smiled, he was going to allow himself. To enjoy it.

“Chess isn’t about trying to find loopholes, Y/N.” Reid groaned and you laughed. “Rossi, tell her,” Rossi shook his head, flipping a page of the book he was reading.

“Fight amongst yourselves, don’t drag me into this.”

“I’m not trying to find loopholes,” You grinned. Your eyes lit up when you smiled like that and for once you actually look your age. “I’m just saying the rules aren’t clear. Maybe they’re intentionally vague.” Hotch chuckled and you turned your head, a smile still big to look at him. He found himself wishing you were sitting across from him instead of Reid. And perhaps you weren’t on a plane, but instead, a nice dinner sat between you. And you’d be smiling at his words like that.

You looked away from him back to the board in front of you. That was the first time Hotch ever thought about kissing your lips. He shook the thought from his head, that was inappropriate, you were his subordinate and you were so young. Hotch broke his eyes from you and looked ahead to Rossi who was already staring back at him with a knowing look.

The unsub was unhinged, gun in hand and a little girl held in his free arm, keeping her between Hotch and his torso. She was crying and he was ranting and raving, and Hotch was trying to talk him down in some capacity. The unsub, a mechanic and serial murderer named Paul Crossley was too frantic to pay attention to his back, and Hotch was as you and Morgan crept up behind him, guns up.

“Crossley put the gun down!” Morgan yelled out firmly. The next events happened too quickly. Crossley spun, scared to be taken from behind and dropped the girl he was holding, finger twitching involuntarily. One-shot rang out followed immediately by a second one and two people fell.

Hotch was running before he even knew if it was safe to run because it wasn’t Morgan whose body had collapsed. Hotch ran past the unsub who was now lying in a pool of his own blood, he even ran past the child he had tossed aside. He dropped to his knees beside Morgan who was already hovering over you. There was no blood.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” You spoke and Hotch felt relief flood him. “It hit my vest,” Then He was using his own hands to unclasp your bulletproof vest from you.

“Hotch,” Morgan warned slightly. But you were already struggling to sit, wanting out of it just as much. It’s amazing how something that could save your life could immediately become suffocating once it did it.

“Are you alright?” He finally allowed himself to ask, knelt beside you as you caught your breath. Hotch wanted to grab you and pull you to him and feel that you were solid, that you were alive and okay. But Morgan was right here, you were surrounded by a flurry of cops and he could. Instead, he settled for helping you to your feet and out of the building to the waiting ambulance.

That was the second time Aaron Hotchner wanted to kiss you.

JJ had insisted and insisted for close to two months prior. She wanted to spend Thanksgiving together on the closet date to Thanksgiving that your caseload would allow. That’s why three days after the holiday you were all going to JJ’s house for dinner.

Hotch knocked, holding his store-bought pie as he allowed himself a moment of discomfort before entering. He has grown to value this time with all of you, the time where you weren’t coworkers but a group of friends too. However, it was also these times where he felt most tempted by you and that made Aaron feel guilty. The door opened and Garcia grinned, adorned in some Thanksgiving-themed outfit. Hotch couldn’t help but laugh.

Garcia ushered him in and took the pie making a joke about the label and plastic container the pie was in.

“Don’t you own any casual clothes?” You asked, appearing in front of Hotch with a glass of wine in one hand and a glass of scotch being offered to him in the other. Hotch took the drink and shrugged slightly.

“Thanksgiving was always a formal event for my family.” He responded and you nodded sipping your wine. He looked at you, he wanted to tell you how nice you looked wearing jeans and a sweater rather than your usual work garb. You were casual and effortless.

Dinner was fun, though Aaron wouldn’t use that phrase out loud willingly. You sat beside him at the dinner table, drinking wine and laughing. Your face was slightly flushed and you were tipsy, making jokes with Reid and Garcia. JJ brought out a homemade apple pie along with the now pathetic looking supermarket pie Hotch had brought. He briefly felt embarrassed, first for his pie than for being embarrassed about something so trivial.

“Okay who wants apple,” Aaron watched as most of the table raised their hand, but not you.”

“I want pumpkin,” You spoke up, reaching across the table to snag the whipped cream, “It’s Thanksgiving, you have to have pumpkin.” Hotch smiled to himself. He knew you didn’t know how much that meant to him, and he felt ridiculous that it did.

“I’ll have pumpkin as well,” Hotch responded. The pie was passed out and Hotch allowed himself to watch you fondly as you covered your pie completely with whipped cream before passing it. You were cute, whipped cream dripping down your chin, you wiped it with your hand. You turned your head and caught Hotch’s eye and he almost blushed getting caught looking at you. But you smiled like always and continued to eat his store-bought pumpkin pie.

More much more than the third time Aaron wanted to grab you and kiss you, he wanted to spend many more Thanksgiving with you.

Hotch’s doorbell rang and he frowned, it was late and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He turned the burner off and left the kitchen going to his front door and peering through the peephole. You stood on his front stoop looking nervous, biting your nail as you waited for him to answer.

“Y/L/N?” Hotch asked, opening the door worried. You looked surprised and he frowned. “Y/N. What’s wrong?” Aaron wanted to grab you and pull you inside. He wanted to know what was doing this to you so he could go after it, instead, he waited in silence for you to talk. You stared ahead for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking up at Aaron with big sad eyes.

“Can I come in?” You finally asked and Hotch nodded stepping back and allowing you into his house. Aaron's house felt like an extension of him and you found it calming. “I’m sorry to come here like this, it’s late. I’m- I just..” You couldn’t find the right words but it didn’t matter you didn’t need them for Hotch to know.

“Sit,” Hotch’s voice was gentle, not his normal stern work voice. “Do you want a drink? Unfortunately, I think I only have water and coffee. Scotch if you want it.” You looked up at him then, tears welling in your eyes, and Hotch nodded, going to get the scotch bottle and two glasses. Hotch sat beside you on the sofa, placing a glass in front of you and pouring a few fingers worth of scotch. You sat and silence and drank for a moment before you signed and put the glass down, hands fidgeting.

“Talk to me, that’s why you came here.” He was right.

“Does it ever get better?” You asked, and Aaron found himself wishing you were here with almost every other question. Because while he lied to himself and you in proxy, every day about how he feels, he couldn’t lie about this.

“No.” You nodded your head looking back down at the glass in front of you.

“That’s what I was afraid you’d say.” You whispered. Hotch thought about it for a moment before placing a hand on your arm and squeezing.

“That doesn’t mean we stop.” Aaron whispered while taking a swig of his drink, “It doesn’t mean we stop, Y/N. We will never catch them all. But that doesn’t mean we give up before we can save the ones we can.” You nodded slightly, “And it won't get better, they will keep finding new ways to kill we cannot control that. The only thing we can control is how we process it.”

“What do you mean?”

“A man I respect very much once reminded me of the importance of having something to take us away from all of this. His was comedy, old Charlie Chaplin movies.” He paused to give you a small sad smile, “You have to find your thing, Y/N, your light in this and you need to let it help you heal. Because if the job ever stops hurting, it’s time to walk away.” You nodded your head blinking away one more stray tear. Hotch poured you each other drink, offering his glass out to you, you clinked yours against his.

“Cheers.” You smiled.

“Cheers,” Hotch replied, watching you take a sip. He felt sad. Maybe he should have said something else, told you that you were too young that you shouldn’t have to see the things you see on the regular. He wanted to tell you how he saw it weighing on you and he didn’t like that.

“Thank you,”

“Your welcome.” Hotch wanted to pull you to him and kiss away the pain on your face and the frown on your lips. But once again he didn’t, mentally citing to himself the exact passage in the FBI handbook that prevents him from dating subordinates.

“I want Reid here to help me with the Geographic profile, take Y/N to Greene to question Poplawski.” Rossi stopped briefly to throw a knowing look at Aaron, “It’s a 3-hour drive, think of it as a gift.”

“Don’t,” Hotch ordered, voice dark and brows furrowed. “I will call when we get there.” Hotch turned and walked swiftly from the room approaching you and Reid, “Y/N with me, were going to see Poplawski.”

“On death row?” You asked, surprised. Hotch nodded and you put the papers you were holding down and grabbing the Poplawski file before following him out of the police station you were working out of. Hotch led you to an unmarked state SUV getting in the driver's seat, and you got in on the passenger side. The first part of the ride was quiet, you were rereading the file and Hotch was alternating between keeping his eyes on the road and glancing at you in the mirror.

“How’s Jack?” The question was sudden and it took Hotch off guard.

“What?” You glanced up, shrugging slightly.

“Sorry if that’s inappropriate.” you shrugged slightly, “I saw he got new school pictures, you updated the one you keep on your desk I just-” You shrugged again, “Thought I’d ask.”

“He’s good.” Hotch replied, swallowing hard and trying to relax into the conversation, “doing very well in school this year, and he’s joined the soccer team at school.” Hotch didn’t talk about Jack much besides with his ex-wife. It was nice, he smiled.

“You must be proud, he’s a good kid.” You nodded, closing the file. You made other small talk on the drive, nothing particular, nothing deep. It was one of the most calming experiences Aaron had in a while. You were surprisingly easy to talk to, maybe it was because you were a good listener or because you were always honest with your words and spoke what was on your mind. Either way, Hotch loved talking to you. He looked at you in the mirror as you opened the file again, this time reading this aloud so you could come up with a game plan.

Hotch listened to you speak and watched you as the sunlight lit you up. It was moments like this Hotch wanted to say damn it all and pull the car to the side of the road just to kiss your lips. But right now people’s lives relied on you getting there promptly so once again he held himself back.

And the 1 where he does...

You’d gotten home early from your latest case, and JJ had yet to brief you on another one. While some of your co-workers took this as an opportunity to go home early and relax, you were doing the opposite. It was a quarter after 7 and you had spent the entire day catching up and trying to get ahead on what paperwork you could get ahead on. You’d seen Hotch once or twice so you knew he was still around somewhere.

When you were finished with your last paper you looked up to his office. The blinds were closed but the light was still on so you gathered your files and got up. You knocked on the door and waited for the familiar ‘come in’ before entering.

“Y/N, what are you doing here still, we got home hours ago.” You gestured with the big pile of folders in your heads.

“Catching up and getting head while I had the chance.” You smiled and Hotch reached his hand out to accept the papers. You walked to him handing it over before lingering in front of his desk. When you were around him it took a lot for you to pull yourself away and you always found yourself looking for excuses to be near your boss. It was terrible.

“Why are you still here?” You asked, arms crossing over your chest, Hotch leaned back in his chair looking at you.

“Paperwork as well,” Hotch gestured, “If I get behind it’s an impossible task to get caught up.” You nodded.

“We had a long week, you deserve an early night.” Hotch chuckled.

“I don’t get early nights, Y/N.” You shrugged and nodded shifting your weight on your feet. There was a moment of silence and you made eye contact with Hotch. He looked at you funny for a moment. You tilted your head.

“What?” Hotch stood up from behind your desk and you remained standing with your arms crossed, looking confused. He moved so he was standing in front of you, looking at you like that still. Your heart rate began to rise.

“May I..” He cleared his throat, “May I try something entirely inappropriate?” You didn’t need to be a profile to see Hotch’s eyes flicker between yours and your lips. Your breath caught and you nodded slightly. Aaron closed the distance placing his lips firmly on yours. You unfolded your arms and allowed your hands to rest on his chest. He deepened the kiss and you leaned closer as his hands gripped your waist. You broke the kiss but didn’t move away.

“I didn’t know you.. Felt like that?” You whispered and Aaron moved a hand up to push your hair behind your ear.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for a long time.” He murmured in return, lips brushing yours again, you smiled.

“Well now's your chance,” With that Aaron leaned in again, kissing you deeply and hoping his kiss could say what his words never could.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #5+1 fic #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch imagine #request

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 5 years ago

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With Cherries On Top

Chapter 2: The Proposal & The Deal

Summary/Author's Notes: Oh.my.god. the response from part one was fucking WILD. I love you guys so so so much! As always, dedicated to @rae-gar-targaryen. She’s had a bad week, yall, go show her some love. <3 ITS WHAT MAX WOULD DO.

Max explains himself and gets down on one knee to ask the big question. Your trust is tested as he tries to pull a fast one, but he makes you an offer you cannot refuse.

Pairing: Max Phillips x Reader (The Proposal AU) Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: Language, flirting, SEXUAL TENSION, Max Phillips is a bastard man, vampire themes

Chapters [1] [MASTERLIST]

Max finally caught up with you and convinced you to go with him to the immigration office. The entire cab ride across town you were seething. Neither of you spoke, and when the cab parked in front of the Federal Plaza building you got out. Glad to leave him to pay for the cab and top it off with slamming the car door in his face. You heard him growl his frustration but didn’t stop as you stormed into the building and he had to jog to keep up.

"Will you slow down?" He snarled and you ignored him.

How could he be this egregiously shameful? You knew Max was cunning. That he would do anything to make the sale, to close a deal, but this--this was a whole other level, even for him.

In hushed tones, in his office, as you threw your items in your purse, he had explained that he was being deported. That the government had caught him in a technicality of his after-life status versus his human one, and although you agreed it seemed to be a petty place to draw the line, his way of kicking you into the fire with him made you not want to help. Did he deserve to be sent back to Romania? Probably not. But forcing you into marriage? Or an even better term for it would be forcing you into fraud. The two of you were breaking the law and he didn’t even have the balls to ask you first.

The immigration office was jammed packed with multiple lines of people waiting for a free attendant and dozens of others waiting in chairs, looking over reading material and playing on their phones. This was going to take forever. Apparently, Max had other plans, as he grabbed your hand and pulled you both to the front of the line. No one stopped him, no one questioned him as you tried to make your face as apologetic as possible to the people already in line that were giving you dirty looks. He asked for the fiancee visa application and the next thing you knew the two of you were being led into a cramped office in the back and looking over the desk at a very stoic, older, government worker.

“Sorry about the wait, folks,” the older man said as he pulled out a file folder filled with papers. “Busy day.”

“Of course, of course,” Max nodded, crossing his ankle over his knee and giving the man his best smile. “We appreciate you meeting with us on such short notice.”

The older man looked Max up and down slowly and smirked--whatever Max was selling, he wasn’t buying and the realization made you want to lean over the chair and vomit on the floor. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Okay, so, I only have one question for you,” he continued to smirk as he closed your file and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Are you both committing fraud, in order to keep Mr. Phillips here from being deported back to Romania and losing his position as CFO at his company?”

“What!”

“Ridiculous!”

Max and you both scoffed at the same time and shook your heads as you waved your hands in front of you and he rolled his eyes, giving a good-hearted laugh.

“Mr.--” Max looked at the nameplate on the desk as he leaned forward and addressed the man. “Yates. That is an absurd assumption. We are just a couple that want to get married and I assure you, our case will be the easiest one you have all day. So, just tell us what we need to sign and we can get out of your hair.”

You wished more than anything you had the courage to grip Max’s leg and beg him to shut up. His normal bullshit was not going to get either of you any favors with this man and if he didn’t tread carefully, you both were about to be in a world of trouble. You knew you wouldn't last in jail, but Max really wouldn't last in jail. That mouth that never seemed to stop talking would get him stabbed...wait, maybe jail was a good idea after all.

"What makes you think we're lying, Mr. Yates?" You asked, crossing your ankles and moving your legs to the side comfortably.

"A tip that came in this afternoon from a concerned citizen--"

"His name wouldn't happen to be Evan, would it?" Max asked.

"As a matter of fact, it is."

"I knew it. He is nothing more than a very disgruntled employee who is out to get me." Max shook his head and waved it away as if that discredited the tip. "I fired him this morning."

The other man scribbled down a couple of notes and went back to pressing his fingertips together and leaning his elbows on the desk. He heaved a large sigh and suddenly looked very tired.

“Here’s what’s going to happen next, you two. I am going to schedule you an interview for next week. I am going to put you both in separate rooms. I am going to ask you a series of questions that real couples would know all of the answers to.” He said the term ‘real’ in a pointed way and looked directly at you, making your stomach fall to your feet. “And that’s the easy part--”

“Okay, seems fair.” Max started, but Mr. Yates ignored him.

“Then I am going to dig deeper. I’m going to check your phone records, your emails, talk to your friends and family--your coworkers. If anything, and I mean anything, seems out of order or does not match your story, you,” he pointed to Max. “Will be deported to Romania indefinitely. And you, young lady,” he turned and pointed to you. “Will be fined two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars with a minimum five year sentence in federal prison.”

You swallowed so hard it hurt as you felt your vision narrow, your body threatening you with the idea of passing out. You felt like you were sitting inside a vacuum, like a larger entity had sucked all of the air out of the already too small office space.

Prison. It wasn’t enough that you had been at his beck and call for the last five years. If this all went sideways, Max Phillips, in a last act of extreme selfishness was going to get you sent to prison.

“So, that being said, Ms. (y/l/n),” he smiled and crossed his arms as he addressed you. “Do you want to talk to me? Tell me what’s really going on here.”

“What’s really going on--” you started, your heart hammering in your ears so loudly that you were sure Mr. Yates could hear it.

You looked at Max and thoughtp about how you wanted to do this. Could you really throw him under the bus and let them ship him away from his home? Could you match his heartlessness and protect yourself above all else? No. Despite how much he deserved it, that wasn’t how you operated. He had insisted on dragging you into this mess and now it seemed, at least for the time being, you were going to have to play along. He looked at you with those soft, coffee colored eyes, so full of anticipation that you almost groaned. Instead you reached over the arm of his chair and patted his leg.

“What’s really going on is that Max and I are getting married,” you squeezed his knee and saw him give a full body sigh of relief out of the corner of your eye. “We just couldn’t tell anyone.”

“And why not?”

“Because he’s a vampire,” you shrugged. “And we were worried how my family would take it.”

“I see,” Mr. Yates leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms waiting for you to continue.

“And--” you, glanced at Max and back. “Because of the promotion.”

“Promotion?”

Both Max and the older man said at the same time and you steeled your resolve and continued.

“Yes, I am in line for a big promotion, and both of us felt if our relationship went public before that it would look unprofessional. Right, honey?” You looked at Max and although you were smiling, your eyes dared him to say otherwise.

“That’s...right, dear.” He nodded, putting his hand over yours on his knee.

Mr. Yates looked at the both of you for what felt like a very long time. You kept your smile even for so long, your cheeks started to ache. The hand you had on Max’s thigh offered a small amount of comfort and you allowed it to ground you, to center your mind as you did your best to look like the definition of truthfulness.

“Well,” he sighed and opened up a filing cabinet and pulled a very large binder full of papers for the two of you. “If that’s the story you’re sticking to. Here are the questions you could be asked, there are about three hundred of them--along with all of the forms that need to be filled out, references we will need, and copies of your identifications. As well as,” he paused and looked pointedly at the both of you. “The marriage certificate.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly as you leaned forward and took the binder from him.

“Have either one of you told your families about this, happy little arrangement?” he asked as he gestured between the two of you.

Max laughed and shook his head. “No, my parents are dead. Only child, too. It’s a real shame.”

Mr. Yates, chuckled dryly, not understanding how such information could be considered funny. “And what about you, Ms. (L/n)? Are all of your relatives dead as well?”

“Mine?” you put a hand to your chest. “No, no, they are alive--”

“We were actually going to tell them the news this weekend,” Max chimed in and you looked at him in surprise. “It’s grandma’s 85th birthday--we thought it would be a nice surprise.”

You stared at him like he had grown a second head. How did he know about your grandmother’s birthday? The idea that Max paid more attention to you than you thought was sitting uneasily in your stomach, but you continued to smile and nodded in agreement.

“We’re flying up to, (y/n)’s parents house.” Max took the binder as you handed it to him.

“And where is that?”

“Alaska.” You said simply, crossing your legs and adjusting the hem of your pencil skirt, reveling in the way Max’s entire face fell.

“Ah-ah-las-kah?" Max stuttered and glared at you. "Alaska." He cleared his throat and repeated.

You returned his intense look of malice with an overly satisfied smile. It felt good to ruffle those feathers, to catch him off guard and see him out of his element.

“Well, I wish you both a safe trip,” Mr. Yates stood up to show you the door and the both of you mirrored him. “I’ll call to schedule your visa interview after what I’m sure will be a lovely week.”

Leaving the federal office felt like you were walking in slow motion. You vaguely heard Max put his bluetooth on his ear and take a call, letting his boisterous voice echo in the too loud, too crowded lobby. Going out onto the street and feeling the cool air on your skin didn’t make breathing any easier as you thought about what just happened. In your trance you almost dropped the heavy glass door on Max’s face.

He hung up the call and started talking like everything was just a normal day back at the office, like the two of you hadn’t just been threatened with the American government absolutely ruining your lives.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said as he put his sunglasses on to protect him against the already very overcast autumn sky. “What’s going to happen is we are going to run up to your parent’s place, act like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend--we can stay in a hotel and that will make it easier to fake. Make sure you use the miles for the tickets--”

“Max…”

“I will pay to have you fly first class, but only, and I mean only if you use the miles. If I don’t get rewards, then we aren’t going.” He pulled his sleeve up slightly and looked at his watch. “Also, please confirm they offer vampire accommodations, because I swear if they put me next to some old hag like last time and I have to smell her O-positive, diabetic, dustiness for six hours--I’m. Going. To. Lose. It.”

“Max--”

He stopped as he realized he had walked quite a ways in front of you and he turned around. “Why aren’t you taking notes?”

Your jaw dropped and you stomped over to him and shoved the binder against his chest with enough force that he stumbled back a step. “I’m sorry! Were you not in that room with me just now? Were you not fucking listening??” You were almost screaming and he looked around quickly before stepping closer and towering over you.

“You look crazy, calm down--”

“Calm down? You have some neve, Max. Some. Fucking. Nerve.” With each word you poked your manicured finger into the middle of his chest, on top of his stupid, yellow tie. He grabbed your wrist to stop you but you yanked out of his grip. “Don’t touch me.”

“Listen,” he took a breath and spoke to you like the ticking time bomb that you were. “You did well back there. That thing about the promotion? That was genius. He really bought that.”

Evan’s words rang back through your head and you took a step back looking at Max. He's never going to promote you. You know that, right? Five years. For five years you had done everything for him. You had done the work of an executive level salesman and made a secretary's salary. And for what? To constantly be missing out on important things in your life? Friends. Family. Dating. You couldn't remember the last time you had actually been on a date with anyone. Everything seemed to revolve around the man in front of you--and you had reached your limit. All of this was asking too much of you.

When you finally spoke, your voice was flat and even. “I meant it. I want that promotion.”

“To what? Evan’s job?” He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I’m the one that is facing a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar fine, and jail time--that changes things. I want Evan’s old job and a thirty percent raise.” You crossed your arms and planted your feet as you held his gaze.

Max moved his bottom jaw from one side to the other, a tick you had often seen and come to realize meant he was mulling over his options. “Fifteen.”

“Forty.” You counter offered the wrong way and he gave a hard bark of laughter. “Okay, fine. I’m walking. You’re screwed. Goodbye, Max--have fun in Romania.”

No sooner did you turn around did Max lunge forward and grab you by the upper arm. “Okay! Okay. Fine.”

“Fine?”

He looked at you pointedly and pulled you into the front of his body. His eyes shimmered for a brief moment and his lips turned upward into a small grin. “Unless--you’ll take something else? Plus, ten percent of course, I’m not a monster.”

You felt as if a small breeze was whispering against the nape of your neck, and you fought the urge to bat at it like a fly. The press of his voice worked its way into your ear and you could almost feel it trying to go deeper. When you realized what he was doing, you gasped and slapped him across the face. “Did you just try and hypnotize me??”

“Ah, shit!” he released your arm and put his hand to his cheek. “Did it not work?!”

“Go to hell, Max!” You turned once again and started walking down the sidewalk, ignoring the faces of the people that were nosily watching your heated exchange.

“Why the fuck didn’t it work--” he mumbled, continuing to rub his cheek and coming to his senses once he saw you putting more distance between the two of you. “Hey!” He jogged quickly and passed you easily in your high heels, turning around so he could look you in the eye. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Typical,” you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“I can’t do this without you,” he held his hands up defensively and gave you an almost pleading look. “I’ll give you the promotion, and the raise. If I’m not at that company, they will get rid of you like that,” he snapped his fingers and you clenched your jaw. “I don’t want to go back to Romania. I didn’t have such a good trip the last time.” He smiled way too large, an action more for the purpose of pulling back his lips so he could gesture to his fangs. “So, will you do this?”

"I have a few conditions."

"Name them."

"We do this my way, and on my terms. This is my family that we are lying to, so we will tell them when I want, and how I want."

"Done. Next?"

"How did you know it was my grandmother's birthday?"

"You think I can't hear every time your family calls and begs you to quit? Even without superhuman hearing--you sit right next to my office." He made a gesture of his hand pantomiming a small distance.

"Fine."

"Fine." You both said one right after the other in shared stubbornness and mutual disdain. "Anything else?"

You crossed your arms under your breasts slowly and straightened your shoulders. “Ask me nicely.”

“Ask you what? I just--”

“Ask me to marry you.”

Max paused and leaned back a bit, rubbing a hand down his face and chuckling like your request was unbelievable. “Uh. Fine. Fine.” He nodded and cleared his throat. “Will you marry me?”

“Like you mean it,” you insisted. “On your knees.”

He gaped at you like a fish out of water. His large hand rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around embarrassed by the idea that any of the hundreds of people on the street could see what he was about to do. He looked at the ground to make sure there wasn't anything obviously sticky lurking on the pavement before slowly getting down on one knee.

"There. Happy?" He gestured to himself and you nodded.

"Oh, extremely."

He sighed and bit his tongue with what he really wanted to say as he looked up at you from his spot on the ground. "So, will you marry me?"

"I believe I said, ask me nicely. Sales. Is. Seduction. Right, Max?" You clenched your fists and brought them into your chest, mimicking his speech from earlier in a most obnoxious way. "Seduce me, then. Really sell it."

Max blew a heavy sigh in the form of a loud raspberry and cracked his neck. He shook out his arms in a dramatic display like he was getting ready to perform and finally looked up at you. His expression was genuine enough. His eyes were warm and his smile small, and he even took your hand and held it out in front of him lightly.

"Sweetheart--(y/n), beautiful, intelligent, decadent, sexy, vibrant--"

"Enough." You said with a frown. "Remember, I'm a person, not a dessert."

He continued as if you hadn't interrupted his string of praise. "Will you please, with cherries on top, marry me?"

You tapped your chin in mock contemplation and gave a single nod. "Okay. Yes. Although I don't appreciate the sarcasm." You let go of his hand and let it fall to his side as you adjusted your purse on your shoulder. "Get me a ring. If we break the news to my mother and there's no ring, she will go bezerk."

"Fair enough."

"See you at the airport, Max."

You walked passed him without another word, leaving the most powerful man you had ever met on his knees in the middle of the New York street.

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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

Text

On Track

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Minho

Genre: Married Life AU, Romance

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 11K

Summary: Despite her reputation, Y/N is considered one of the very best agents in the music industry. Of course, it doesn’t help that she married one of her clients---notoriously stubborn and arrogant Lee Minho AKA the extremely talented Lee Know whose silky voice and amazing choreographies appeal to an enormous fan-base. A pop singer who prefers to work alone, Y/N usually obliges Minho’s preferences...until her boss demands that he collaborate with the up-and-coming and multi-talented trio, 3racha.

Well, nobody ever said that married life is easy.

For: @hwngjn

There’s a certain decorum involved with the management of arrogant pop singers who think the entire world revolves around their singular existence. In my experience, if you want to tame these wild inclinations, then it’s best to do one of the three things: 1) leave the company ASAP with a two-week notice and a heartfelt plea for a good recommendation, 2) tolerate the existence of this pop singer and hope that he matures with age, or 3) marry this pop singer because you fell in love without understanding the fraternization clause of your contract.

Allow me to elaborate: options one and two will leave you with enough room to continue rising through the ranks without much conflict with upper management. You see, I have firsthand knowledge because I lived through the ensuing outcomes, leaving my first job at the tender age of 23 with very little knowledge and then arduously suffering at my next position with a female artist who insisted on testing my patience. But then again, if you choose to skip options one and two and pursue option three, then you better learn to live with the consequences because it will bring the most long-term effects.

Let me start from here because, for the most part, the consequences for me were fairly minimal. The record company was, of course, incensed when they found out about my unauthorized affair. Unfortunately, Minho liked to brag about the things he cherished, and he made no secret of our relationship outside of the company. I knew it was only a matter of time before the issue was brought to the attention of Mr. Park, the company’s CEO and head producer.

I can still remember sitting in his big office, ignoring the lingering smell of smoke, while Mr. Park shoved my management contract in my face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, to which I had no response other than my weakness for Minho’s cunning smile. “You’re done here,” he announced and my heart broke in my chest.

Fortunately, before I could finish packing my belongings on the same afternoon, Minho had appeared at my desk with a very unhappy Mr. Park trailing behind him with an intense scowl. “Tell her,” Minho growled.

“Y/N,” he sighed. “You’ve been reinstated. Mr. Lee made a convincing argument on your behalf. Apparently, he can’t possibly work here and renew his contract without you as his manager.”

I remember glaring at Minho for his intervention, since our impromptu marriage was entirely his fault. “Thank you, sir.”

Thereafter, I was determined to do the best job I could as famed singer Lee Know’s manager, even if it meant facing scrutiny from jealous fans or bowing my head when I faced another agent in the hallways. I suppose I could deal with their scrutiny because it was better than the alternative of finding myself lounging away in Minho’s expensive condo unemployed and ruined because of my reputation. Even so, I was walking on thin glass everyday, and Minho continued to make things hard by insisting that he didn’t need to follow the rules, especially since he insisted on some one-sided feud with Mr. Park.

For example, today Minho was scheduled for an interview with a very distinguished magazine, but my husband had decided to prioritize his never ceasing libido over regular responsibilities. “Hold still,” Minho said, smirking against the side of my neck while his hands made quick work of my skirt and panties, shoving them harshly down my legs to make room for his greedy touches. Inhibited access to the heat between my legs, presented to him in just the way he liked, meant that his fingers were currently teasing the swollen folds of my labia while I fell apart at the seams.

I could tell that Minho wanted to take his time, but one glance at my wristwatch told me that we weren’t allowed such liberties today. “No, sir,” I said, reaching behind me to scratch my nails along his forearm. “You have an interview in ten minutes!”

“Relax,” he said, kissing delicately down the individual knobs of my spine. “I missed you today.”

“How romantic,” I deadpanned. “Can you hurry before the agency sends someone to look for us?”

As I said before, Minho was never the type to follow clear instructions, and he didn’t like the fact that his agency was rather strict when it came to scheduling. He liked to spite the men upstairs whenever an opportunity arose, such as prolonging needless foreplay when I was already dripping down my thighs because of his ministrations. I reached behind me for his belt, attempting to undo the zipper and release the erection straining the material.

“What’s your hurry, sweetheart?” he purred, knocking away my hand.

“My job as your manager,” I returned, fervently trying to hasten our unexpected intimacy.

“Well, as your favorite client, I suggest you bend over for me so I can fuck this little pussy.”

His words went straight to the tight coil offering no resistance the longer Minho continued to speak dirty words into my ears. “Did you lock the door?”

“Why? Are you expecting someone?”

I frowned, ready to offer a snarky retort before the words were wiped clean from my head when I felt the tip of his cock sink into my awaiting heat. “What was that, sweetheart?” he asked and I moaned loudly because he was suddenly intense with his movements, leaving no room to gather my bearings before he was fucking at a harsh pace.

Actually, in hindsight, I should’ve seen this coming when I met Minho in my office for the very first time. He walked in wearing a loose-fitting tank top and tight skinny jeans like he was attending a fraternity party instead of a company meeting. Minho’s steps were completely assured, sunglasses framing his face perfectly and standing out against the smooth tone of his skin. “Y/N?” he asked with a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “The agency assigned you to my care.”

“Really?” Minho asked, cocksure and smiling bright as he made himself comfortable on my futon without permission. “Miss, you say?”

“We go by professional titles, Mr. Lee,” I said, glaring at him from behind my computer screen.

“Sure,” he dismissed, reaching for the flower vase on my coffee table. “How does this work exactly? You do whatever I ask, right?”

“Put the vase down and pay attention.”

Minho’s smile vanished at my tone. “What did you say?”

“Mr. Lee, the agency forewarned me about your...behavior. I must assure you that it won’t be tolerated because my job is to make sure that you do everything outlined in your contract. I’m sure you didn’t bother taking the time to read it, but there are certain things the company expects of you other than posting to your Twitter at 3:00 AM in the morning.”

I took a deep breath, satisfied that he appeared to be listening. “For example, the company expects your first album release this October. It’s my job to make sure you attend all recording sessions. Furthermore, promotions will be anticipated leading to the album’s delivery to applicable streaming platforms. That means interviews, photoshoots, award shows, and radio performances. Please understand that I’m one of the very best this agency has to offer, which means my clients demonstrate respect and high aptitude for their work and how it reflects on the company. From the moment you first stepped through that door, I knew that you lacked both of those capabilities.”

I stood up from my desk, walking around to the front to regard the man who suddenly found it difficult to look at me. “Here’s a warning, Mr. Lee. If you fail to adhere to my standards, then I won’t hesitate to ask the company to find you a new manager, understand?”

Minho scoffed, snatching his sunglasses away before nodding his head. “Fine.”

Satisfied, I reached behind me for the manila folder I prepared for his arrival. “Now, let’s review your schedule.”

Of course, that was two years ago and despite the whirlwind of mischievousness that encapsulated Minho, including several scandals, an endless barrage of paparazzi, and several intense arguments with upper management, I wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything else in the world. You see, I never counted on falling in love with an idol singer, but he managed to charm his way into my good graces with an irresistible smile and warm personality masked beneath his arrogant facade of indifference. He always brought a smile to my face, even in the midst of an intense orgasm bent over my desk as his cock hit deep inside.

He fingers wrapped around my wrist, dragging my watch into his line of vision. “Two minutes, Y/N.”

I groaned in complaint, wondering how someone who graduated college with a flawless 4.0 GPA continuously broke company rules on a daily basis.

The following morning, I found myself crushed between several executives for an undisclosed company meeting. “Everyone!” Mr. Park announced. “I have exciting news for this year’s Christmas theme.”

A chorus of groans greeted his words. “Sir, I thought we were leaving the decision for the talent?” another agent spoke up.

“Yes, but I think this will work better for our core demographics,” Mr. Park said. “Y/N!”

I sat up straighter, attempting to look more alert than I felt inside. Unfortunately, Minho had kept me up all night in the small recording studio he built in our shared condo, asking me for continuous feedback on his latest project. “Sir?”

“Mr. Lee gave us a very interesting demo last week for a recent project.”

“Oh?”

“I’d like to make it a collaboration effort with our talent,” Mr. Park said and my heart seized in my chest because I knew firsthand just how much Minho despised working with other people. “3racha have landed their first platinum album. We need to capitalize on their success!”

“You want a collaboration between 3racha and Minho?” I asked, swallowing hard at the idea of telling my husband.

“Exactly,” Mr. Park said with a smile. “For the music video, I was thinking we could also invite Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Felix to choreograph something for the project.”

“How...exciting?” I offered, cringing at my tone. Thankfully, Mr. Park was already addressing 3racha’s manager while I stared at my empty coffee mug and wondering if I would need more caffeine to survive.

Afterwards, Mr. Park adjourned our meeting and I returned to my office to find Minho waiting for me perched on the edge of my desk. “Sweetheart,” he greeted me, pulling me in by my waist to press a welcoming kiss to my pout. “You seem worried?”

I leaned back enough to meet his gaze. “You better promise me that you won’t get upset and scream.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “When have I ever done that?”

A million scenarios filtered through my mind before I decided to leave those memories in the past. “I just finished a company meeting.”

“Oh yeah?” he nodded, playing with the necklace resting against my collarbone. “What happened?”

I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Mr. Park had an... interesting suggestion.”

Minho glanced up and narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t sound good.”

“He wants a collaboration,” I said, deciding to go for the killing blow before I could lose any more of my fading confidence. “The new demo you played for the company. He wants you to work with 3racha.”

Minho was quiet for a moment before he chuckled. “Really? Well, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You know how I feel about those things.”

I released an unsteady exhale. “It might be an opportunity?”

He shook his head. “You just march your cute little ass back into Park’s office and tell him I’m not interested.”

I groaned, pulling out of Minho’s arms to walk around my desk. “I have no power to tell Mr. Park anything.”

“Why not? You’re my manager!”

“Yeah, but he’s the head producer and owner,” I remarked, offering him an unimpressed look as I sat down to unlock my computer. “Besides, I think it’s a cool idea for the fans.”

Minho frowned. “Fuck, if I’m collaborating with anyone, then it’s gonna be Sam Smith or Post Malone.”

“As likely as that sounds,” I started with a dramatic sigh, “I think you should start small and work your way to the top.”

“But 3racha?” Minho grimaced. “Those fucking guys think they’re the absolute shit around here.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Not funny,” Minho grumbled. “It’s my demo. I should be able to choose who I work with.”

“I think you’ve forgotten the fine print in your contract,” I said, reaching across the desk to offer his hand a gentle squeeze. “Please don’t make a big deal out of this. Can’t you make an exception...for me?”

Minho sighed, and I offered my absolute best pout in return.

“You’re lucky that I love you.”

Later that afternoon, I was surprised to meet Mr. Kim in the elevator on my way to the lobby. It was heavily rumored around the office that 3racha’s manager was notorious for locking himself away in the studio with his favorite clients. “Y/N,” he greeted me. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I said, holding up a folder. “I was bringing some files to Mr. Park.”

“Leave them with his secretary,” Mr. Kim insisted. “I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet my clients since we’ll be working together.”

“Minho is busy with an interview right now.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Mr Kim said. “Maybe it’s better if you talk to them first?”

I considered his offer, noting the disheveled appearance of his suit. “How long have you been trying to find me?”

“Does right now work for you?” he continued, pointedly ignoring my question.

“If you must insist,” I grumbled. “But they’ll have to meet at some point.”

“Yes, but I think we can delay the inevitable,” Mr. Kim said with a pointed look which I knew was directed at my husband.

“Fine.”

My easy agreement was met with a satisfied smirk to which I resisted the urge to remind Mr. Kim that I was only meeting his clients to make things easier for everyone involved in the collaboration. Of course, I had no room to talk down to my superiors and Mr. Kim’s credentials were practically golden compared to the minimal mark I had left on the company and its prolific talent. Instead, I let out a shaky exhale, wondering if it was too late to reconsider the fight I endured on a regular basis to keep my position with the company.

“Here we are,” Mr. Kim grinned. The elevator stopped on the top floor with a resounding alarm. “I think you’ll find my clients to be satisfactory.”

“In comparison to Minho, you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as Mr. Kim urged me to follow him down a narrow hallway. I vaguely recognized our destination, but I usually never lingered around the studios.

“Did I say that?”

“It was implied,” I sighed, crossing my arms.

“Well, that wasn’t my intention, Y/N. You, of course, understand that nothing between us is personal?”

“We’re colleagues, Mr. Kim,” I replied. “That defines our relationship.”

“In that case...” he trailed off, pausing outside one of the doors. “I’m excited to work together.”

I rolled my eyes when he turned his back, but held my tongue as he reached for my hand to drag me inside the room. Immediately, my eyes were drawn to the plethora of monitors and screens dragging the walls of the entertainment studio. It reminded me of my early time as an intern during college, overwhelmed by the inner workings of the record company I was privileged to support, learning everything about the business. There was also a time, however briefly, when I first entered my current company as nothing more than an executive assistant for Mr. Kim who enjoyed reminding me of the fact, especially when his clients continued to eclipse mine in popularity. And that included the three men who offered us polite smiles when we interrupted their session.

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim said, dragging me further into the room. “I thought it might be nice to formally offer introductions. I’d like you to meet Bang Chan, Han Jisung, and Seo Changbin.”

“I’m very excited,” I said, taking on a professional tone as I extended my hand to Chan. “My client is looking forward to your future collaboration.”

Chan accepted my outstretched hand, curling his fingers around mine. “Likewise.”

I withdrew my hand slowly, offering Jisung and Changbin a courteous nod. “Mr. Kim insisted that we meet today.”

“Yes,” Chan nodded. “But your client is noticeably absent.”

I swallowed hard as I met his gaze. “Minho is busy with an interview.”

“I see,” Chan remarked, taking a step back. “Well, 3racha is working until this evening. Perhaps Minho could join us here after his meeting.”

I turned around to look at Mr. Kim who only shrugged in response as if it hadn’t been his idea to keep Minho as far away as possible until necessary. I rolled my shoulders, schooling my expression as I gave Chan an airy laugh. “That only makes sense, doesn’t it? Let me send him a message.”

“In the meantime,” Changbin sighed from behind us. “We can continue with the recording.”

“Keep us updated, Y/N,” Chan said, returning to his work while I started on drafting a message for Minho.

To Minho: Tell me when your interview ends

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim cleared his throat. “I hope Minho’s schedule is cleared for tomorrow?

I raised one eyebrow in question. “Tomorrow?”

“We’d like to start the first recording session,” Chan replied. “Mr. Park played us some of Minho’s demo and we have some ideas for the track.”

“Oh,” I responded, completely out of my element when it came to the actual creation of music despite the many nights I spent with Minho in our home studio. “I’m sure we can make it work.”

“Perfect,” Mr. Kim declared, pulling out his cellphone with a grin. “I’ll make the arrangements on my end.”

Mr. Kim stepped out into the hallway, leaving me alone with his clients who were all watching me with barely concealed curiosity. “You know,” Chan started, “I’ve listened to Minho’s albums. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to write love songs.”

“He likes to experiment,” I said, blushing when I recalled the way he had intimately explained the meaning behind his new demo, but there was no way I was telling anyone that the song was about me.

“Is he...open to criticism?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the demo?”

“Of course not!” Jisung immediately corrected. “I just thought I’d ask because we have some cool suggestions to improve the overall quality. But I don’t know if Minho would listen.”

It was highly unlikely. “I’m sure he’s open for improvement,” I lied, wincing when I felt my phone vibrate from inside my pocket.

Minho: Call me.

“One second, gentlemen,” I said, cringing at my tone before escaping into the hallway. I held up my cell phone reluctantly, tapping on Minho’s contact name to place the call. He answered almost immediately. “Minho?”

“Sweetheart,” came his voice from the other end. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah,” I said with a heavy exhale. “I’m with 3racha.”

He was silent on the other end for an uncomfortable duration. “Why?”

“Mr. Kim caught me on the way to Mr. Park’s office,” I said. “He insisted we meet.”

“Really? Are you having fun?”

I inwardly groaned at Minho’s tone, recognizing it as the same one he reserved when he was feeling particularly annoyed. “They want to meet you too.”

I was met with another long silence and then- “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I paced outside the studio entrance, wondering if Minho had suddenly had a change of heart in the brief amount of time he had been notified of the collaboration project. After all, everything would be a lot easier if my husband wasn’t so stubborn, a perfectionist in every sense of the word who had trouble delegating work to other people, especially when he didn’t trust them. But for this to be successful, Minho would need to respect 3racha as capable artists who knew what they were doing when it came to creating hit singles.

“This feels more like an intervention,” Minho suddenly announced, trudging down the hallway and pulling me out of my foreboding thoughts.

“Then don’t give me a reason to be nervous,” I said, accepting his brief kiss before reaching out for the door handle. “Promise me you’ll behave?”

“I’ll try,” Minho grumbled, and that was the only confirmation I received before letting the literal beast into the jungle..

Chan was the first to realize Minho’s arrival, standing up from the couch to greet Minho with a professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Minho glared at Chan’s outstretched hand. “I’m not thrilled about this collaboration.”

I shook my head, resisting the urge to grab Minho’s hand and force him to feign politeness for once in his life. “Oh,” Chan said, retracting his arm. “I just thought we should get along since we’re working together.”

“A temporary arrangement,” Minho said, clicking his tongue as he turned around to look at me. “Y/N can handle the PR stuff.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I quipped, trying to lighten the air even though Minho had more or less successfully generated enough tension to last a lifetime.

“Mr. Lee, my clients were hoping to schedule a session tomorrow,” Mr. Kim said. “We’d like to start on the collaboration as soon as possible.”

“Sure,” Minho said, jaw clenching to betray that he wasn’t entirely happy. “I’d like to work quickly.”

A long, insufferable silence ensued while Minho took his time studying the three artists he was expected to share his newest creation. Finally, Mr. Kim interrupted the never-ending staring contest, flashing a forced smile. “Bring the demo with you, Mr. Lee, and anything else you’ve been working on.”

Minho nodded. “I’ve already finished most of the song.” I took a deep breath, waiting until Minho turned around to look at me. “I have something to do, so I’ll see you at home.”

I bowed my head, holding my tongue until the sound of the door closing broke whatever spell Minho had cast over our sullen group. “Pleasant isn’t he?” Changbin snorted.

“He’s just busy,” I tried to excuse, but the sentiment fell short and I suddenly had the desire to run down the hall with my arms flailing above my head.

I guess we can consider day one a complete and total failure.

Despite the awkward tension of Minho’s first meeting with 3racha, I was determined that the remainder of the collaboration would endure no further obstacles. Accordingly, I woke up early the next morning with every intention of playing the part of the mediator, which meant doing everything possible to improve Minho’s mood. For example, my husband was notorious for being intimidating at work, but he was nothing short of soft at home and I took advantage of his early-morning clinginess by surprising him with breakfast in bed and open arms without worrying about rushing through our usual routine.

“You want something,” Minho said, one arm pulling me close to his chest while his other hand made busy work of his breakfast.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“In general? Maybe it’s the fact that we’re already twenty minutes behind schedule and you aren’t losing your shit.”

I opened one eye, watching him as he swallowed down the remainder of his orange juice. “I’m comfortable.”

“Really?” Minho snickered, looking down with a knowing glance. “Sweetheart, you’re usually pushing me out the door right about now.”

“Well, things have been hectic at the company, so I thought it might be nice to treat ourselves.”

“I assume you’re talking about my required collaboration with the three idiots,” Minho said.

“I’m concerned,” I continued. “Minho, you hate working with the other artists, but this isn’t something we can just walk away from.”

“I understand,” Minho sighed. “I don’t want you to worry about me or the collaboration. I promise to be a good boy.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone. “That’s a great way to instill confidence.”

“They’re irritating,” Minho continued. “My inbox is full of messages and I hate email.”

“Welcome to the 21st century.”

“Are you sure Mr. Park wanted this?”

“Minho,” I said, slowly pulling myself out of his arms. “Stop thinking about the project like it’s some sort of punishment. Consider it an opportunity instead.”

“Please feel free to elaborate.”

“3racha are incredibly famous and they have a considerable fanbase,” I said. “When those fans hear your voice on the record, they might start paying more attention to your music.”

Minho exhaled, chest falling beneath my hands. “I see your point, but I don’t like it.”

“Nobody said you had to like it,” I reminded him. “Be nice to them.”

“What are you asking me to do?” my husband groaned, rolling over onto his stomach.

I quickly straddled his waist, working my fingers into the tense muscles of his shoulders. “I know you don’t like the collaboration, but it won’t last forever and then you can go back to working on your solo projects.”

“I guess, but only if you come to all the recording sessions.”

I grinned triumphantly, even if it was only one victory in a long history of tedious arguments with my stubborn husband.

Mr. Kim was a very impatient man, and I was only somewhat surprised to see him standing by the main entrance when we finally arrived at the company. “Minho, you needed to be in the recording studio...” he trailed off, glancing at his wristwatch with a frown. “Ten minutes ago.”

My husband scoffed. “I don’t work on your time, Mr. Kim.”

“We had a late start,” I intervened. “I’ll make sure he gets there soon, Mr. Kim.”

The older man grunted, clearly displeased with Minho’s behavior. Thankfully, Minho had the decency to wait until he was well out of hearing range before further disparaging Mr. Kim’s character. “Sweetheart, I’m doing this for you,” Minho said, glaring over my shoulder at Mr. Kim’s retreating form. “But I don’t appreciate being told what to do.”

“That’s how he is,” I said. “I used to work for him as an assistant. He was always keeping everyone busy. Time wasted is money lost.”

Minho snickered at my poor imitation of Mr. Kim’s accent. “I’d kick his skinny ass if I was any less patient.”

I resisted the urge to laugh at Minho’s “restraint” because my husband was notorious for acting without consideration for the consequences. “Don’t be late for your first recording session.”

Minho pouted, looking down at me with wide, brown eyes. “You aren’t coming?”

“I’ll be there soon,” I promised him with a quick kiss. “I have something to do first.”

Minho was hesitant to leave me behind, but I offered him another encouraging kiss before retreating in the opposite direction to my office. It seemed that I would need reinforcements for this particular occasion, and I knew there were only two men who I could force to help me. As such, I found Jeongin and Seungmin loitering around their desks, passing back and forth what appeared to be a paper airplane. “I wasn’t aware I made any prior aviation requests.”

Jeongin let out a small whine, quickly disposing of the distraction in the bin next to his desk. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Look, I’m actually in a hurry today and there’s too much going on for me to handle your hijinks,” I said, beckoning the interns to follow me into my office. “I have an important assignment for you.”

“Of course!” Seungmin agreed, walking ahead to grab the door. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee.”

“It’s about Minho.”

“Lee Minho?”

I turned around to glare at Jeongin. “Who else? Or did I receive notice of another client with the same name?”

Jeongin shook his head furiously. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lee. It’s just...”

“Minho has a history with interns,” Seungmin finished. “And maybe people in general.”

I laughed at their suggestions. “You’ll be with me the entire time, alright?”

They both visibly relaxed. “So we don’t have to help him?”

“Not directly,” I affirmed, moving around my desk. “Sit down, boys.” They both complied quickly, looking up at me with wide and innocent eyes that reminded me of my days in university. “Minho and 3racha have a recording session scheduled for this afternoon.”

Jeongin squealed from his chair. “The 3racha! I love their music! Oh, do you think it’d be too much to ask for an autograph?”

Upon seeing my glare, Jeongin quickly apologized. “Would it be too much to resist that urge, Mr. Yang?”

The younger boy sighed. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Anyway,” I continued, ignoring their antics. “I have your assignments.”

Seungmin leaned forward expectantly. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee!”

“Your job,” I said, glancing back and forth between Jeongin and Seungmin, “is to make sure that Minho doesn’t piss off 3racha.”

“How?” Jeongin asked with sad eyes that almost forced me to change my mind on the spot.

“Just make sure you’re at their recording sessions with me,” I said. “Intervene whenever it seems like they might argue.”

“Intervene?”

I sighed impatiently. “I don’t know, improvise or something, but nothing bad needs to happen or Mr. Park will chew my ass out for disrupting a perfectly good collaboration opportunity.”

Seungmin and Jeongin looked at each other before sighing in defeat. “Does this mean we’ll be getting a raise?”

Here’s the thing about my job: despite Minho’s insistence, he was not the only client I represented. For example, I was also currently working on the debut of a new boy group who were incredibly talented and highly charismatic. They were also obedient and respectful, doing whatever they could to make my job easier even though I never asked them to sacrifice their free-time to practice their dancing and singing. When I worked with their leader, I couldn’t help but think that my job was considerably easier in comparison to the extra effort sometimes required to fix Minho’s mistakes, like the time he showed up an hour late for an interview because I forgot to set the alarm in our bedroom. Nonetheless, it always seemed like I was doing something extra to remedy Minho’s abrasive nature, which explains why I was prepared to sacrifice two of the company’s interns for the betterment of the future.

“Are you ready?” I asked the younger boys, lingering by the doorway to the studio.

Seungmin managed a nod while Jeongin murmured something that I decided to interpret as his approval. I knocked on the door expectantly, slightly relieved when Minho greeted me on the other side. “There you are,” he said. “We couldn’t possibly start without you.”

I rolled my eyes, but followed him inside with my interns hot on my heels. Minho retired to the couch, hunched over his laptop as he worked with a frown. Meanwhile, Chan, Jisung, and Changbin were busy adjusting the sound equipment while Mr. Kim watched his clients with eager eyes.

“Stay here,” I said to my nervous interns before joining Minho on the couch. “Do you actually plan to help them?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N,” Minho said. “I’m not actually procrastinating...just putting the finishing touches on the initial demo.”

He lifted one of the earbuds, offering it to me with a grin. “Are you trying to ask me something?”

Minho scoffed. “Will you please listen to my finished demo?”

I snatched the earbud from him in response, plugging my right ear and blocking out the lingering noise from the studio. The soft cadence of the piano started to play from the computer, shortly followed by Minho’s familiar breathy vocals that never ceased to amaze me. My husband was gifted with a profoundly gorgeous voice that could reach high notes that even I would struggle to obtain.

“My voice sounds angelic, wouldn’t you agree?” Minho asked.

“I see your ego has somehow managed to grow overnight.”

Minho chuckled, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “Don’t worry, I don't intend to sabotage the collaboration...I worked too hard on this demo.”

“I guess we can start then,” I said, stretching my arms high above my head as I waited for Minho to eject his flash drive. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Jisung approaching the two of us with a hesitant smile. “Good morning, Jisung,” I said, nudging Minho when he continued to remain silent.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, holding up the flashdrive. “I prepared most of the song.”

“Really?” Jisung questioned, accepting the device from Minho. “I’d like to listen.”

Jisung returned to the sound booth and Chan accepted the flash drive with a brief glance over his shoulder at Minho. My husband remained silent while Chan opened the corresponding file on the computer and everyone listened with admirable concentration while Minho’s sweet music and tender voice filled the empty studio space.

“It’s good,” Changbin acknowledged at the end, even though his tone was somewhat reluctant.

“Good enough on its own,” Minho muttered and I shot him a warning look. “Fine,” he begrudged. “I have some ideas on the arrangements.”

“Sure,” Chan nodded, leaning back against the sound booth.

“We can split up the parts,” Minho continued. “I’ll handle the chorus.”

“I see,” Chan acknowledged. “I guess that means you want us to take the verses?”

“Logical, isn’t it?” Minho snarked. “I suppose you can add a rap verse or two since that’s your...thing.”

“I could try and sing as well,” Jisung offered. “We could harmonize over the final chorus.”

“You sing?” Minho snorted. “I thought you were a rap group.”

“Does that automatically disqualify us from being singers?” Changbin asked gruffly.

“Of course not!” I interfered, inserting myself effectively between Minho and Changbin. “I’ve heard some of your vocal work and it’s absolutely beautiful.”

Minho grumbled something indecipherable under his breath from behind me, but I ignored him and continued to do my absolute best to ensure the recording session progressed as smoothly as possible. “I hope you don’t mind, but my interns will also be joining us today for their field work.”

“That’s fine with me,” Chan spoke up from his position behind the sound station. “Should we start with finalizing arrangements?”

I ushered Minho forward whose expression revealed his reluctance. However, since he was on his best behavior, Minho started conversing with Chan and the others about arranging the vocals and rap verses for the song. In return, I sat down on the couch with my interns since I wasn’t skilled enough to comprehend their impressive knowledge of song production. I knew Mr. Kim was also quite unfamiliar with their vernacular, but the proud man continued to linger around the artists as if he could possibly offer something beneficial to the professionals.

I scoffed at the idea, turning to look at Seungmin who was busy playing some sort of application on his phone. “Is this your way of doing a good job?”

He jumped at the sound of my voice, closing out of his game before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I’m paying attention!”

From my other side, Jeongin sighed happily. “Han has the best voice.”

I tried not to laugh at Jeongin’s starstruck expression, especially since Han Jisung was a very impressive vocalist, singing Minho’s lyrics like they had come from his own imagination. “He’s quite talented,” I agreed, studying my husband to try and determine if he also shared the same opinion.

But Minho was difficult to read when he was focused on his music. He never spoke during Han’s performance, waiting until the younger boy was finished before addressing him expectantly from the recording booth. Minho sighed, pressing the button to allow him to speak directly to Jisung. “It was alright for a rapper.”

I resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall as Jisung glowered at Minho. “I’m not just a rapper.”

“The tone isn’t right,” Minho carried on as if Jisung hadn’t spoken, “we need tighter vocals.”

“My vocals are fine!” Jisung bristled and I shoved at Jeongin’s arm who immediately jumped into action. The younger intern stood up abruptly, the unexpected action commanding the attention of the entire studio...

“Who wants coffee!”

I sighed at his dramatics, but it was a decent distraction. “Why not?” Chan asked, reclining back in his chair. “It seems like we have a lot of work to do.”

Sadly, truer words had never been spoken.

Graciously, Minho managed to keep his more radical opinions to himself for the remainder of our scheduled recording sessions with 3racha. Of course, my husband always had his ways of insinuating an insult through carefully chosen words. Nonetheless, I think all parties involved knew it would be to everyone’s benefit if we finished recording the new song without arguing about Minho’s dismissive comments.

In any case, Mr. Park was thrilled with the final result, inviting me and Mr. Kim to his office after listening to the finished product. “This is exactly what I envisioned,” he said with a bright smile. “The fans will love this!”

“It was a process, sir,” I admitted, sheepishly offering Mr. Kim what I hoped was a sincere apology.

“I’ve scheduled a shooting day for the music video,” Mr. Park said. “I have the perfect concept for the song!”

“I’m sure it’s brilliant, sir,” Mr. Kim added.

“Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin have agreed to choreograph the track,” Mr. Park said. “They have some very interesting ideas for your clients.”

It was only then when I remembered that Minho liked to arrange his own dances, but since we were already this far into the collaboration, he might reluctantly agree once more. “We’ll be there,” I reassured my boss.

Unfortunately, I knew it would be a horrible shooting day when I walked outside with Minho and saw a gray sky and light misting of rain. “This is already a mess,” I said, dragging my still sleepy husband to the car.

“How long will this take?” Minho grumbled.

“If you’re willing to cooperate,” I said, fixing him with a stern glance, “then I’d imagine we can finish by this evening.”

Minho yawned. “I hate music video shoots.”

“You poor thing,” I sighed. “Whenever you finally decide to become a director, then I’m certain you’ll insist on controlling that aspect of music production as well.”

“I feel like you understand my vision, Y/N,” Minho said with an airy laugh. “I’m too tired to argue today.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief, hoping that he was being honest. “Mr. Park invited the company’s best choreographers. Please don’t insist on doing your own performance.”

“As long as they won’t have me doing anything less than artistic,” Minho said. “We should be fine.”

I chose not to take my husband’s words to heart as we drove to the shooting sight together in silence. It had started to steadily rain the longer we drove, and I had a feeling that the sky itself was foreshadowing the impending breakdown threatening to destroy all the progress we made. But I was also an optimist, and Minho was usually the least abrasive when it came to shooting music videos.

I parked my car next to the company’s van, watching a few regular staff members unload equipment from the back. “Y/N, it’s not too late for us to drive to that adorable little breakfast restaurant we like so much,” Minho reminded me.

“Shoot the video and I’ll treat you to a gourmet dinner,” I said, reaching across the console to squeeze my husband’s hand.

He was still reluctant, but I was proud when he reached into the backseat for our umbrella. We stood close together, Minho’s hand firm around my waist. In the distance, I easily found Mr. Kim talking with his clients as they fought to stay dry under one of the company’s tents.

Mr. Kim saw me first, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Y/N, you’ve decided to keep us waiting again.”

“Blame it on the weather,” I said, closing the umbrella as Minho wandered over to talk with one of the directors.

“Oh! You mean the rain pushing us into a delay? I guess I didn’t notice,” Mr. Kim returned, rolling his eyes as he led me further into the crowd of people. I faintly recognized the younger men dressed in gorgeous outfits, recalling their appearance in various music videos from some of the company’s most distinguished artists. “Y/N,” Mr. Kim smiled. “I’d like you to meet Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin. They have some excellent suggestions for the music video.”

“The honor is mine,” I said, bowing respectfully to Felix and Hyunjin. “Minho is eager to work with you.”

Felix smirked. “You don’t have to lie to us, Mrs. Lee. We know your husband prefers to work alone.”

“Ah,” I murmured. “His reputation precedes him.”

“I hope he can appreciate our efforts,” Hyunjin added. “Felix and I have been working on some new choreography for the track.”

“He’s being compliant today,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“There isn’t much of a choice,” Mr. Kim said, startling when the director attempted to speak over the white-noise of the tent’s occupants.

“Attention! We’re starting inside the school for the first scene.”

I met Minho’s eyes over the crowd of moving staff, nodding for him to obey the director’s command. “What’s the concept, Mr. Kim?”

“Friends-to-lovers?” Mr. Kim shrugged. “Your pretty husband is the main character, which I’m sure will please him greatly.”

“It’s a high school setting?”

“Yes, and he has a crush on a school girl,” Mr. Kim said. “You should know this very well, Mrs. Lee, didn’t he seduce you in the same way?”

I ignored his jab. “And 3racha?”

“Protective friends, I guess,” Mr. Kim said. “The director assured me that it wouldn’t take long to film.”

“I hope not,” I said. “The less Minho has to be here, the better.”

“Cut!” the director growled. “Mr. Lee, this is not the same choreography that we discussed with Felix and Hyunjin.”

“I tried to improvise,” my husband defended himself.

There were less than two scenes left to film and I was very close to dragging Minho away from the film shooting and knocking some sense into him. “Follow the script we discussed,” the director said. “Let’s take five.”

Chan glared at Minho as he snatched a bottle of water from the snack table. “Is it too much to ask you to cooperate, Minho?”

My husband ignored Chan, pausing in front of me to bring his forehead against mine. “I’m tired.”

I shot Chan an apologetic smile as I smoothed my hands through Minho’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled back to look at Chan who was engrossed in conversation with Jisung and Changbin. “He’s impossible to work with.”

“What’s wrong now?” I sighed, feeling another impending headache courtesy of Minho’s behavior.

“I hate Bang Chan,” Minho said. “He keeps looking at your ass.”

“Who cares?” I nearly shouted, attracting the attention of a few camera workers. “Minho, the shooting is almost over. Please, for the sake of my mental sanity, can you try to listen to the director?”

Minho’s eyes betrayed his exhaustion. “I want greasy food for dinner and a cheesy movie when I get home.”

I laughed, amused by Minho’s behavior. “Whatever you want.”

“Minho!” the director yelled. “We need you back on set.”

Minho closed his eyes and sighed. “He’s lucky I’m a professional.”

I was lingering by the snack table, picking my way through the bowl of skittles because I only liked the red kind, when I heard the unexpected sound of yelling from somewhere inside the school. My husband’s voice was easy to detect about the noise, and I stuffed a handful of candies into my mouth before deciding to investigate. As much as I’d like to imagine that the yelling was a part of the music video, common sense told me that my husband had likely gotten into another confrontation with the director.

However, the last thing I expected to see was Minho marching through the open doors of the school with Chan following him with clear annoyance. “I’m telling you it’s not good enough,” Chan said, frowning when Minho stopped by my side.

“I don’t want to film it again,” Minho said. “Besides, your reaction was genuine. The best ‘acting’ you’ve done all day.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” Minho said, glaring at Chan as he reached for my hand. “The collaboration required a song and we have a finished copy and a music video. I’ve done my part, so if you’ll kindly excuse my wife and I...”

Chan shook his head. “Do whatever you want, Minho. I don’t care anymore.... But the sad part in all of this is how much I was sincerely excited to work with you, despite your reputation.”

Minho seemed at a loss for words, glancing back and forth between me and Chan. “I can’t share your sentiment, Chan,” he finally said. “I think it’s best if we make this a one time thing.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Chan agreed with a disappointed sigh.

I could only helplessly stand aside as the two bickered, wondering if it was too late to formally retire.

Sunday was the only day of the week where I could actually enjoy myself without having to worry about the company or the never-ending demands of my clients, with the exception of my husband. “Y/N,” Minho slurred from next to me in our bed.

I made a vague noise of recognition, pulling the blankets closer to my chin because it was too cold in the apartment. “What?”

“Your phone is vibrating,” Minho said, and I managed to crane my head back just enough to realize that he was right.

I reached out my hand to feel for the stupid thing on the nightstand, pulling it close enough to read the message displayed across the screen:

From Mr. Kim: Mr. Park planned some sort of elaborate interview/performance for the new collaboration. Make sure Minho is at the company tomorrow by noon.

“Who is it?” Minho asked, using one arm to drag me closer to his welcoming heat.

“Mr. Kim,” I murmured in return.

“Why?” Minho growled.

“Apparently, you have an interview with 3racha tomorrow. Mr. Park wants a live performance for the debut of the collaboration.”

“I thought I was done with them,” Minho said with a tone that suggested he was anything but pleased with the news.

“It’s just one performance,” I argued. “And you promised me that you would finish all your responsibilities.”

“You keep adding more things,” Minho gruffed.

I smirked, rolling onto my side to face my husband. “I think it’s a great idea to let the fans hear it live on the same day it starts streaming.”

“Can’t they just play the recording of my parts?”

“It won’t be the same,” I said, leaning in closer to brush my lips across the seam of his pout. “I’ll be the loudest fan screaming your name from the back.”

He chuckled, allowing one hand to pull me in closer. “Aren’t you always my biggest fan?”

“Lee Know, will you sign my albums?”

“You’re a good negotiator, sweetheart,” he said, diving in for a passionate kiss that reminded me of when we first started dating and Minho was always eager to shower me with affection.

“Minho,” I gasped, barely restraining a moan when he suddenly moved between my thighs.

“I’m sorry I’ve made things difficult,” he said, pressing sweet kisses to the skin around my calves. Tender moments like this reminded me of the person I fell in love with, slowly learning that there was more to Minho than his arrogant stage persona.

“Please,” I whispered, helping him remove my sweatpants before weaving my fingers through his hair.

“Anything for you,” Minho said, breath hot against my sensitive skin. He stuck out his tongue, tasting the heat between my legs with languid strokes that promised the best wake-up call to start the day. Not that Minho and I did anything substantial on Sundays since we preferred to watch movies and indulge in the glorious high of junk food.

More often than not, we always ended up in this position with my husband doing his best to please me. And I had no room to complain because Minho was awfully talented with his tongue, and he had me writhing against the mattress like a complete mess. “You’re too good at this,” I complained halfheartedly.

His nails dug into my hips, holding me in place while he continued to drive me over the edge. “Are you going to cum for me?”

I always broke at his husky tone, lying spent in my post-orgasmic haze as Minho feathered light kisses across my legs. In moments like this, it was impossible to think about the negative aspects of working for the company, or the drama of the collaboration. Besides, it was only one more day and Minho never broke his promises.

I found a strange, but calming quality to pacing back and forth when I came across a problem that was incredibly difficult to solve. For example, arriving at the office early to prepare last minute forms while fully expecting my husband to show up to his scheduled interview and performance without my intervention. Yet, despite my expectations, I was currently backstage with Mr. Kim and his clients while we listened to a crowd of eager fans waiting to hear the new collaboration. Unfortunately, my husband was nowhere to be seen, and that meant our schedule was in jeopardy.

“Where’s Minho?” Mr. Kim nearly screeched, raking his hands through his balding hair while remaining heavily engrossed in his phone screen.

The performance was supposed to start ten minutes ago and the fans were clearly confused. A distinct murmuring of intermingled voices echoing throughout the soundless concert hall. “Y/N?”

I turned around, using every last ounce of strength I could muster to meet Chan’s gaze. “I don’t know where he is.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, and the anger in his eyes was enough to nearly give me a premature heart attack.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, desperately ringing Minho’s number once again only to be met by the familiar greeting of his voicemail inbox.

“I knew that bastard would ruin this,” Changbin said. “He was determined from the start to see this fail.”

“It was one performance,” Jisung bemoaned, and I could only feel absolutely miserable listening to their shared complaints. But, in the words of my formidable boss, the show must go on and I couldn’t bear to disappoint the eager fans waiting to hear the song they loved.

Speaking of which, I reached out a hand to support myself against the wall when I saw Mr. Park walk backstage with his assistants. Our eyes met from across the room. “Mr. Park,” I managed, but my throat was suddenly dry despite the three empty bottles of water I had consumed.

“Y/N,” Mr. Park sighed, eliminating the distance between us. “Tell them to have 3racha perform without Minho. Our phone conversation today has certainly changed my mind about the viability of his collaboration.”

“You talked to him?” I growled, feeling nothing short of betrayed since my husband had repeatedly ignored my phone calls.

“We’ve reached an impasse,” Mr. Park explained solemnly. “Please tell Mr. Kim about the change.”

“But sir!” I tried to protest because I was extremely confused and had no idea what we needed to tell the fans.

However, Mr. Park was already focused on a new task and instead of delaying the inevitable, I found Mr. Kim talking urgently to a stage hand next to the curtain. “Introduce 3racha,” I said. “Tell them that Minho had an unexpected emergency.”

Mr. Kim, if it was even possible, grew even redder to the point where I hesitated to call for help backstage. “This is an outrage!” he finally growled, crowding me against the wall. “If this goes wrong, then I hope you know that it’s entirely your husband’s fault and his mistakes reflect poorly on your performance.

I bowed my head, because I knew that part of the blame rested on my shoulders as Minho’s manager, especially in regard to the mysterious phone call he shared with Mr. Park. In the meantime, I could hear the crowd cheer for the arrival of 3racha who performed to the best of their ability without my husband. Still, it broke my heart to know that he had somehow been excused from the performance after promising to complete the remainder of his responsibilities.

But I still wanted to give Minho the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps something happened when I left for the company and he was forced to call Mr. Park? Still, my optimism didn’t stop my hands from shaking from my grip around the steering wheel, pulling into my usual parking spot with a heavy sigh. Before our marriage, there were plenty of times when Minho tested my patience. For example, on multiple occasions I had come very close to handing in my request to have him transferred to someone else because he was sometimes impossible to handle. However, each time I would threaten to leave, Minho always convinced me to stay, turning his entire attitude around and doing his best to make up for his mistakes. He was usually successful, but today’s mishap forced me to question whether or not he was capable of recovering from this unexpected slight. And it wouldn’t just jeopardize my relationship with him as his manager, but also the close intimacy I shared with him as his wife.

I paused at the door to our apartment, trying to listen for any sound of movement from inside. “He’ll have a good excuse,” I attempted to justify, unlocking the door before dragging my feet into the entryway. “Minho?” I called out, greeting nothing but silence before I walked downstairs to his studio where Minho often liked to escape when he wanted to be alone.

I was surprised to see him inside, working on his computer as if today was just another ordinary session. “Minho,” I snapped, opening the door without bothering to knock. “We need to talk.”

Minho sighed, glancing away from his computer screen. “I know Mr. Park cancelled my performance.”

“Yeah? And you don’t think that there’s something wrong!”

“Y/N, don’t worry about the interview,” he replied. “Park called me earlier and told me he would take care of everything.”

I slowly exhaled. “I know he called you, but I don’t understand why it happened.”

“He said it wouldn’t be the last time I was involved with marketing,” Minho continued. “I told him I was under the impression that today would be the last performance. We argued for a while and he told me that I shouldn’t bother showing up today if I wasn’t committed to the project.”

I blinked twice, trying to process his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, barely restraining the anger. “I called you several times before Mr. Park showed up backstage.”

“I knew you’d be disappointed,” Minho said with a vulnerable tone I could hardly tolerate. “It’s not a big deal. Park knows about everything, and tomorrow we can forget about the collaboration.”

He looked at me like he was expecting me to just agree with him, but I was beyond words. Instead, I turned my back to him and retreated upstairs to our bedroom. I had fought with my husband before, but this was an entirely new level of anger and frustration.

I could hear Minho following me, but I refused to acknowledge his attempts to gain my attention. “You’re an asshole sometimes,” I growled, storming around the bedroom to find a spare set of sheets in the closet. “Let me know when you’re done being the world’s biggest jerk.”

“What are you doing?” Minho asked, blocking my path to the doorway. “We’re not done talking about this if you’re upset.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m done and you don’t always get your way,” I snapped, pushing past my husband into the living room.

“Y/N,” Minho said, reaching for my arm despite my attempts to ignore him. “I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t,” I said, spinning around on my heel to confront him. “If you were sorry, then you’d try to make things right, but your ego has grown to such a monumental size that you can’t even accept the added weight of another mistake.”

“What are you saying?”

“You can’t make this right,” I said, tears obscuring the vision of my husband. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, expression transforming completely when he realized I was truly on the verge of a breakdown. “You know I’m not mad at you! Park knows everything, he was the one who told me not to show up!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cried. “I asked you to do something that’s surprisingly simple for most people. Not because I wanted to punish you, but because I saw an opportunity to help Lee Know! But after the stunt you pulled today, I don’t think I’d bother helping you anymore.”

The single tear that fell from Minho’s eye would have normally been enough for me to recognize his guilt, but I wasn’t in the mood to fall back into the tedious cycle of forgiving him only to deal with another mishap in the future. “Y/N,” he said softly. “Please don’t leave me.”

I shook my head. “I need some time to think about things.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a desperate tone. “We should talk about this, I can make it better!”

“Just let me sleep,” I begged him and he broke even more, releasing my hand with an uncharacteristic whine.

I tossed my blanket onto the couch, attempting to find a comfortable position on the leather. It was a far cry from the mattress in our bedroom, but I desperately needed space away from Minho. For now, I didn’t want to deal with the reality of our situation, which is why I was more than willing to drown myself in the familiar darkness of sleep.

The smell of bacon was surprisingly overwhelming when I woke up the next morning with lower back pain. I groaned, attempting to sit up despite the near constant throbbing. Apparently, leather sofas were built for style instead of comfort.

I opened my eyes slowly, feeling my heart jump inside my chest when I saw Minho holding a plate in my direction. “Y/N, are you okay?”

I swiped a hand across my face, remembering my argument with Minho from the previous evening. “I’m fine.”

“You should eat,” he insisted so I accepted the plate from him, shaking my head when I realized the toast was burnt, but Minho had never been a great cook. “I want to talk about last night,” Minho said. “Because you’re obviously hurt and that’s the last thing I wanted.”

“What did you expect?” I asked. “You weren’t there for the performance, you ignored my calls, and then my boss tells me that one of his artists decided he was done promoting his new single?”

Minho winced at my tone. “It’s all my fault because I decided to take everything personally. He forced me to do the collaboration when I didn’t want to participate, and it felt like he was taunting me...like I had no control over my music and he could do whatever he wanted.”

“He can, Minho,” I said. “You signed a contract with the company.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I keep forgetting that part, and it’s really stupid how much I let it affect me, but I hate it when things are out of my control.”

“But that’s no reason to take it on the people who were only trying to do their job,” I snapped. “Or refuse to tell your own wife!”

“I understand,” Minho nodded. “I was too caught up in my problems to realize that everyone was suffering because of my decisions.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I asked, holding my breath because I was dreading his answer.

“I’ll apologize to them,” Minho said, hanging his head in shame. “I need you to know that I’m sorry for everything.”

My heart broke at the sorrowful expression he wore, completely uncharacteristic of my husband...as was his decision to apologize since I halfway expected Minho to threaten his leave from the company. However, I also sometimes forgot that Minho was more than the way he acted around other people, and his sincerity was perfectly evident for me to recognize. “I know you are, but sometimes you do things without thinking about the consequences.”

“I’m aware,” he chuckled. “And I usually don’t really care, but that’s selfish...especially when it hurts you.”

“It is selfish,” I agreed. “How do I know you won’t do this again in the future?”

“Because I’ll remind myself of this moment,” he said. “I’ll remember what happened last night and do whatever I can to prevent it from happening again.”

I was stunned by his determination. “Are you really going to apologize to everyone?”

“I am,” he nodded. “Of course, your forgiveness matters the most.”

I took a deep breath, processing his words and the steady way he continued to hold my gaze. “You know I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against my lips. “I need you more than anything else in the world.”

My heart warmed at his declaration. “I wonder what everyone at the company would think if they saw how cheesy you are.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Not as long as you behave,” I returned, laughing at the way he held me tighter, feeling nothing short of safe and secure in his familiar embrace.

Mr. Kim was surprisingly calm when I requested a meeting between our clients. In fact, I was shocked that he even accommodated my request considering our bad relations. However, I recognized an opening, walking down the hallway next to Minho who was clearly nervous as he hugged the bottle of champagne we brought as an apology gift.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Mr. Kim greeted us upon our arrival, sparing Minho a grimace before inviting us inside the studio.

Chan and Jisung were sitting together on the couch, glancing up only when Minho paused in front of them. Meanwhile, Changbin stood against the wall, watching my husband with narrowed eyes. Minho held tightly to the bottle of champagne in his hands, glancing between the three men who all wore similar expressions of disdain. “I’m sorry for the interview,” he said. “It was really selfish and immature.”

Chan arched one eyebrow, glancing between me and Minho. “Really?”

I quietly offered Minho a small push against his lower back, encouraging him to continue. “I rehearsed this,” Minho chuckled, “but it’s hard to swallow my pride.”

“Take your time,” I whispered to him softly.

“Well, let me start by saying that I was wrong about the whole collaboration thing,” he said. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and you guys did everything to help us succeed.”

Changbin scoffed. “You certainly made it more difficult.”

Jisung nodded furiously in agreement. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much trouble with promotion.”

“I know,” Minho agreed. “I was just upset because I have this stupid thing with Park and he knows that I have...problems working with other people.”

“That’s an understatement,” Changbin said, glowering at my husband with obvious disapproval.

“Honestly,” Minho said, swallowing hard. “The song is one of my favorites. I wouldn’t mind collaborating again in the future.”

“Well-” Jising broke off, staring at Mino with something akin to shock. “Huh?”

Chan frowned. “You really made us look bad on stage.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Minho sighed. “I was being an enormous jerk, trying to stick it to the man or something ridiculous and it played out better in my head.”

I reached out a comforting hand, squeezing Minho’s shoulder for support. “I think he knows his decision was wrong.”

Minho nodded. “You might be upset with me and I understand. I’m sorry for everything that happened, and if you decide I don’t deserve to be taken seriously, then I won’t blame you.”

Minho ended his speech with a nervous cough, thrusting out the bottle of champagne in Jisung’s direction who accepted the bottle hesitantly. “Minho,” Chan said, closing his laptop with a sigh. “I know about your history when it comes to working with other artists.”

“It’s not exactly a glowing resume,” Minho admitted.

“No, but that’s the only reason why I know that your apology was sincere,” Chan said. “If you’re really serious, then I think we can move past this.”

Changbin nodded his agreement. “Mr. Park also explained some of the...politics behind the interview fiasco.”

“I guess it’s hard for you,” Chan shrugged. “I’m glad you came here to make things right.”

“And the champagne is nice,” Jisung added quickly to which Minho managed a smile.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

“Well, if you were serious about collaborating again, we can start with line distributions,” Changbin said, leaning in with a smirk. “I want to sing next time.”

Minho laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“In that case, we have cause for celebration,” Jisung cheered. “Mr. Kim, do we have spare glasses?”

In the meantime, I took a step back to allow the four men space to talk together, distributing several glasses of champagne before laughing at Jisung’s failed attempt not to spill anything on the carpet. It was certainly admirable, and I found myself simply watching Minho from across the room. This was nothing short of substantial progress, and I cherished the moment because it promised very good things for the future.

And at one point, Minho snuck away from his new collaborators to join me at the sound booth. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m glad you’ve always been at my side.”

I reached out for his hand, watching Chan, Changbin, and Jisung hold up their champagne glasses in our direction. “You know? I’m really excited about your next project.”

Minho grinned, leaning his forehead against mine. “I think I could get used to this...as long as you’ll be there.”

I sighed happily, closing my eyes to remember this moment. “That will never change.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids requests #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #skz oneshot #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #lee minho #lee know fanfic #lee know smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids minho #stray kids minho fanfic

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morepokemonimagines · 5 years ago

Note

Starved lanky boy anon here!! From the fluff of please!!

Sure thing! Not even gonna lie, I’m starved for the lanky emo boi too. I just wanna snuggle him! (and do other less wholesome things)

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?: (So many different things this could mean… I’ll probably do more than one scenario for this one.) While I wanna say he does it by singing some cheesy love song he spent weeks or even months on at a show he was unusually insistent that his love interest attend, I’m not sure he’d actually have the confidence for that. If it were done on stage, it would be a spur of the moment thing. He’d be running on pure adrenaline from the crowd’s energy, which boosts his confidence immeasurably, when he sees someone getting too handsy with them while they’re looking SUUUUUPER uncomfortable and trying to get away. He’d see red and stop mid-song to be all “Oi, wanker! Hands off my girl/man!” He’d start to blush the second he realizes what he just said, but the train’s already left the station, so he might as well blow the whistle. He’ll go off on a tirade about how disrespectful they were being to his love interest and that they’ve got another thing coming if they think he’s letting them get away with it. He’d then have the offending person removed from Spikemuth entirely (something he rarely does) while Team Yell keeps anyone else from getting too close to his love interest. He finishes his set while looking directly at them, though he does look away from time to time to give them a chance to slip away if they so choose; he’s happy but nervous when they don’t. After the set is finished, he hops off of the stage rather than walking off to the side like normal and asks his love interest if he can talk to them. He’s takes their hand and pulls them to a more secluded area so they can talk in private; he’s probably a bit more forceful than intended when leading them to said area because he really wants to get it all out before the last of his adrenaline and endorphin high can wear off since he’s kinda banking on it to help him through this. He’d take a deep breath and tell them how much he likes them and why: they’re nice, funny, interesting, easy on the eyes and he just feels more relaxed around them than most others outside of Marnie. He’d then ask them how they feel about him and his feelings about them. If he gets a positive response, he will ask them to be his s/o.

He could also do it in a less abrupt manner, but it would take A LOT longer to happen because the poor guy gets so down on himself all the time that he’d be convinced that his love interest could never actually return his feelings. They would likely have had to have formed some sort of friendship-type bond before this as well. Marnie will have to put her foot down and give him a pep-talk/lecture to get him to stop pining from afar and take the leap already. In this situation, he’d invite them to come hang out at his and Marnie’s place to watch a movie or some show they have a mutual interest in, something that they’ve done dozens of times before so they have no idea that anything is different this time around. Marnie won’t be there, but that’s normal since she’s busy with gym leader duties. At some point, he would either pause the movie or wait for a commercial to ask them if he can talk to them. From there, it goes about the same as the first scenario.

Now, as far as saying “I love you” to them, it would probably be a spur of the moment thing. They’ll do something that just makes his heart feel like it’s going to burst and he’ll think “Arceus, I love you so much….” Yeah, that wasn’t in his head like he thought it was…..

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?: It’s not really something he thought about much before; it just never really crossed his mind. But, after being with his s/o for a while, he’ll find himself thinking about it more and more. Sure, getting the government involved in one’s love life is weird when you really stop to think about it, but having the title of husband instead of boyfriend and them having the title of wife/husband instead of just girlfriend/boyfriend just starts to feel more and more special to him. He’ll talk to his s/o about his feelings on the matter and get their opinion on it. When he feels like his intentions and their feelings are clearly known, he’ll make his move. THIS is where the cheesy love song at the end of his set would come in. He already knows that they love him, and he knows their feelings on the subject of marriage, so he’s confident as hell and is chomping at the bit. Once the song is over, he’d pull them up on stage and pop the question.

Depending on what he knows about them, he may present them with a ring or (as he would prefer) a choker that matches his; the chokers are a family thing, after all, and they would officially be family at that point. If he had gotten them a ring, it would either be a simple band with some sort of phrase that is special to them engraved in it, or a flashier ring with either a round cut or heart cut. The center stone would be his s/o’s favorite stone because it would be more personal and shows that he pays attention to that sort of thing, and because diamonds are a literal scam and everyone knows it (he may allow a few small diamonds to be used as accent stones if it looks better, but that’s for aesthetics and not because the ring is “supposed” to have diamonds in it). If he were to get a ring for himself as a symbol of their union, it would be a simple gold band with a special phrase and/or his s/o’s name engraved in it. While silver would match with his usual style far better, he would want the ring to clash because that would make it stand out more. He’d let his s/o pick what they want for their wedding ring if they choose to have one. Something that would appeal to him would be the idea of wedding ring tattoos instead of traditional rings. They’re more permanent, they’re less cumbersome, and they just fit his style more.

The wedding would mostly be up to his partner’s taste, but he would have a few requirements. 1) Marnie is the flower girl. 2) Obstagoon is the ring bearer if they use physical rings. If they get the tattoo rings, then they’ll just get the tattoos beforehand and kiss the other’s ring tattoo when they would normally exchange rings; Obstagoon will be his best pokeman in this case. 3) Team Yell is invited, but they’ve had the fear of Arceus put in them by him, so they’ll be on their best behavior. 4) No media. This is their night and no one other than the ones they want to have there have any right to be there. 5) He is absolutely going to want to have a say in the music that is played.

Bonus! N icknames - What do they call their s/o?: He sticks almost exclusively with “love” as a nickname, but will give them other endearing nicknames that allude to some funny/embarrassing situation or inside joke over time, but he uses these more sparingly. (Example: my grandma calls my grandpa (both on my dad’s side) “Bunny Butt” because once while camping she got drunk and pantsed him, and my mom said he had a “cute little bunny butt” because he’s a thin dude and I’m sure that particular area has never seen the sun in the 60 some odd years that the man has been alive so it had to be whiter than a real full moon.)

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?: This pasty mofo can’t hide his blush to save his damn life! When he’s in love, he’s blushing constantly whenever his love interest is around, or sometimes if they’re even just mentioned. When talking to them, he may stutter quite a bit too, which is something he never has trouble with otherwise. Also, he’s tugging on the ring on his choker constantly and avoiding eye contact. In short, he basically becomes a flustered pre-teen and you’d have to be dense not to know. His main way of showing his feelings is by paying really close attention to the things they say and do in order to find their likes, dislikes, things they need, things they’re going through and so on. He will use this information to make sure that any gifts he gives them (normal expected gifts like birthdays and holidays) are special and so that he can help them whenever he can. It will become pretty apparent that’s what he’s doing because why the hell else would he remember an offhanded remark about some random thing they said more than three months ago?

#piers #piers pokemon #pokemon piers #gym leader piers #pokemon swsh #sword and shield #fluff alphabet #sfw #fluffy #headcanon

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gloss-glass-ash · 5 years ago

Text

The Proposal Pt. 1

Tags:

Word Count: 1, 464

Summary: The Proposal au.This will most likely be a several part series but I cannot guarantee when it will be completed. :)

Warnings: language

Jolting awake from a sensually frustrating dream about Harry Styles, Y/N realized two things. Foremost, her alarm had yet to go off. Secondly, perhaps more importantly, she desperately needed to get laid. Rolling toward her alarm, her eyes widened in panic. The clock was stopped at 12 despite the sun sneaking past her curtains suggested otherwise. Unplugging her phone, she almost screamed at the time. 8:00. She had an hour to get to the office or her ass was grass.

Thankful she had showered the night before, she rushed about her apartment in an effort to get dressed and do her hair and makeup with enough time to make it to Starbucks. 8:20 and she was out the door. 8:40 she got off the train at the closest stop to the Starbucks that The Devil Himself preferred. By the time she rushed in the line was snaking back toward the door. Before she could swear, the goofy barista with the pretty blonde curls and sparkly blue eyes held up two venti iced coffees and winked.

"You are a saint, I actually love you." Y/N placed them in a tray and scurried toward the office.

The elevator was full as was the lobby by the time she got in. Forced to take the stairs, she kicked off her heels and held them in one hand while balancing the coffee in the other. She entered the offices of Summer Publishing at 8:55 and sighed with relief. That is, until Carl from deliveries bumped into her with the mail cart causing one iced coffee to spill down the front of her blouse.

"Fuck me." Sliding on her heels, Y/N rushed to Ashley's cubicle. "Hamilton tickets, 2, yours if you give me your shirt. Offer expires in 5, 4, 3-"

At precisely 9:00 am The Devil Himself strutted into the office. He was on the phone but that certainly did not mean his eyes were not searching for the slightest infraction among his staff. Pleased, or as close as he could possibly be to it, he entered his private office. Y/N followed shortly after.

"Good morning, Mr. Irwin." She set the coffee down on coaster on his desk.

"I just got Hood to do a book tour. Calum Hood, the world's most mysterious author, to do a book tour."

"Oh wow, sir. That's amazing!" Y/N dared a step closer to his desk as he leaned back in a chair that probably cost twice her rent. "Did you get a chance to look over that manuscript I sent you? I've read a lot of drafts but that one really stuck out."

"No." He waved his hand dismissively. "I doubt I'd like anything that you did anyway." Turning his coffee in his hands, he frowned or smiled, Y/N wasn't sure what his emotional range was.

"Anyway, sir, your immigration attorney called...again. He is quite insistent on you returning his call. You also have a meeting with Styles at 11, he seemed quite serious as well."

"Tell my attorney I'll get to it. We're supposed to have a meeting tomorrow but push that back. I need tomorrow to deal with Hood." Running a hand through his slick hair, he chewed on his straw."Has Clark come in yet?"

"Um, yes sir, I believe so."

"Good, let's go see him." Y/N turned to leave the room. "Oh, sweetheart? Who is Luke and why does he want me to call him?"

Her cheeks burned a warm pink. "That was originally my coffee, sir. There was an accident with yours."

"So, venti iced coffees with soy milk, sweetener, and a protein booster are your drink of choice?"

"Such a coincidence, I know."

Irwin stood and crossed the room. "Because it would be quite pathetic if you ordered the same thing as your boss." Passing through the sea of cubicles, he glanced toward Ashley seeing her shirt splashed with a brown stain. "Like I said, pathetic."

9 to 5 scenes flashed before Y/N’s eyes and she couldn’t help but fantasize about all the ways she could end him, get that pay raise, and her book published. Nevertheless, she kept her mouth shut, following behind Irwin with anger. He was the pathetic one. Couldn’t even call his own goddamn lawyer back, couldn’t even fire Clark on his own.

Clark, reasonably, was upset. Y/N felt some sympathy toward him because losing your job sucked and Clark had a family which was something Irwin could never understand. After several insults, Clark packed his belongings into a cardboard box and left the office with middle fingers high.

It was barely 10 o’clock, there were still a wonderful 7 hours left in the workday. The board meeting was next. Despite #MeToo and the fact that it was fucking 2020, the board was a good ole boy’s club filled with assholes with wandering eyes and hands. The rest of the board somehow made Irwin look like a saint. Y/N buttoned the top button on her shirt before walking in, kept her chin low, and didn’t dare stray too far from Irwin’s side.

Irwin slipped a note to Y/N, an SOS of sorts. She nodded and called his lawyer back. Dealing with his immigration lawyer would certainly be more stimulating than his meeting about paper- what was this The Office?

Y/N was thankful when the lawyer arrived, allowing her a much needed mental health break. She and Ashley smoked a variety of something in the bathroom with the window open, staring down at the city below. “Fucking asshole. Ya know, Dolly Parton wouldn’t put up with this shit.”

“I know.”

“Just once I would like to be treated like I matter to him. I turned in my transcript and all the asshole could say is that it’s pathetic I ordered two of the same drinks.”

“That’s just creativity on your part.” Ashley reapplied her lipstick, tilting her head slightly at Y/N. “You look awfully cute in my shirt, might just have to kiss ya.”

Well, Y/N certainly wouldn’t object to that. She never got the chance to know if Ashley’s lips tasted like cherries or strawberries, as Michael stuck his head in looking all sorts of panicked.

“Y/L/N? You are needed ASAP in Satan’s office and he said to unbutton your shirt a bit.”

Complying, if only for her paycheck, she plastered a smile on her face and undid the top button. She entered his office like the perky assistant she was. “Yes Mr. Irwin?”

Mr. Harry Styles sat next to Irwin’s lawyer at Irwin’s desk. Styles was certainly a pleasant surprise. Irwin smiled, honest to God smile with dimples and everything at the sight of her. “Honey, they know. You can call me Ashton in front of them, and well, it’s still in private.”

“I-” Ashton swept in, holding her close to his chest.

“For the love of God play along.” He whispered with grit in her ear under the guise of playing a kiss on her cheek. To the room, he said, “I told them about our relationship. It was impossible to hide anymore, what with our engagement and all.”

Engagement? Had Irwin finally cracked? Styles seemed over the moon at the idea of an office wedding while the lawyer looked slightly more at ease. Clearing her throat, the lawyer smiled. “Just so long as we can get this paper work going soon you know how the current administration is the process is going to take a while.”

Ashton kept his arm around Y/N, giving her side a sharp squeeze. “We have plans to go to the immigration office this afternoon before catching a flight to Kentucky for Y/N’s grandmother’s birthday. Only turn 88 once, ya know.”

Content with that arrangement, the lawyer and Styles left each with their own well wishing. Y/N turned to Ashton who wore his usual stupid jerk smirk. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Listen, I’m not about to apologize. I let my visa expire, the only way I can stay here is to get married. You’re the only woman I interact with on a daily basis. I’ll pay you quite handsomely to go along with it and we’ll get a quickie divorce in a year.”

Left speechless, Y/N walked to his cabinet and poured a shot of bourbon. Then another. One last one for courage. “This is a federal crime you know.”

Ashton hummed from his desk. “Well, last time I checked you disagree with the current administration on everything this should be an easy offense for you to commit. Now, collect your things and take a half day. We’re going to announce to the rest of the staff our engagement and then head to the immigration office.”

“I have to catch my flight-”

“Yes, I know and I’ll be attending. We have to sell it.”

#Ashton Irwin imagines #Ashton Irwin imagine #Ashton Irwin x reader #5sos imagines #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer imagines #Ashton Irwin au #5sos au #the proposal au

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angelkurenai · 5 years ago

Text

Hurricane - Dean Winchester x Reader (Detective AU) - Part 3

Title: Hurricane

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word count: 4,473

Warnings: None

Summary: With one of the most dangerous serial killers on the loose and in your tracks you have no choice but to rely on the help of the police to ansure your safety. It doesn’t hurt that the detective in charge is the one of the most skilled there is and probably, well, definitely the most charming one you have ever seen. Or that his flirting with you takes your mind off the danger waiting for you right around the corner. & Based on: Imagine detective Dean Winchester flirting with you while working on your case.

Read Part 1 here! l Read Part 2 here!

“So this is my humble house.” you mumbled, unlocking the door and getting inside with Dean following suit “You've been here before but considering the mess it was in, I guess this is a little bit better and certainly much more different. After what happened with her-” you swallowed the lump in your throat “I decided to change a few things so here it all is.” you let a soft sigh, motioning in front of you.

“And considering the situation you were in, I certainly prefer this one over that.” he said with a half smile and you nodded your head.

“Absolutely agree on that, detective.” you took of your shoes and set them next to the door “Speaking of which-” you chewed on your lower lip nervously “What are you going to tell them at the office exactly? I mean they saw us leave together, and me get in your car which I don't think it's all that professional. And they are going to ask about it, so you'll-”

“Relax” he said gently, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and cutting off your rambling “For one, I don't have to justify myself to anybody. I am the one that helps solve most of their cases there, and if I want to I could leave any moment. I am only staying because I love this town. And secondly-” he shrugged softly “The truth, I suppose. I am here for work, your case is the most important one not just for me but the entire police station. We all need to catch her and as a possible next victim you need protection.”

“So what better way than to do that yourself huh?” you asked biting your lip and a wide grin spread on his face.

“Exactly, sweetheart.” he winked.

“So... that's the only reason you really are here. Right.” the disappointment was hard to miss from both your voice and face and as much as you tried to mask it, taking of your jacket Dean did pick up on it and smirked at you.

“You are a lot more to me, (Y/n), and you know it.” he said a lot more gently than you'd ever heard him before.

“I know, I know.” you couldn't help the flutter of your heart as you smiled at him and he did the same.

“Besides-” he continued, the flirty smirk back on but you didn't mind it one bit “I might never mix business and pleasure but-” he licked his lower lip “It would be my greatest pleasure to protect you, even if that is the last thing I do.”

“Don't say that please.” you whispered with a deep frown and he gave your shoulder a squeeze. You both knew if she wanted to she could be lethal, how you were still alive surprised you but you weren't going to push your luck.

“Alright, alright. Not gonna bring you down, tonight. I'm here to make this night the best of your life yet, in any way I can do that.” he grinned as you groaned, rolling your eyes.

“Dean” you half-moaned, half-whined his name but that only made him laugh. That or maybe the deep red that tinted your cheeks at the moment.

“Love how you already say my name, princess.” he winked and you bit your lip.

“Alright, detective.” you emphasized “Would you like to give me your coat, must not be easy to move around in the house in that no matter how good it looks on you.” you said as he chuckled at your behavior, slowly taking off his long coat and handing it to you.

“You know I could always comment on that-” he said with a glint in his eyes.

“Don't.” you cut him off, realizing what you'd actually said before; shaking your head you motioned for the living room which was not really far away “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Uh a beer would be great, thanks.” he gave you a boyish grin and you nodded your head. You made your way to the closet, putting his coat away – you were a little sad because he looked so fucking good in it but at the same time you could never say no to watching him in a suit either. You quickly made your way to the kitchen and grabbed a cold beer from the fridge.

“You're very lucky tonight.” you said as you walked in the living room to see him texting on his phone.

“Oh trust me, that I already know.” he grinned, looking up at you from the couch and you laughed with a shake of your head.

“Didn't mean that, detective.” you pointed out, handing him his beer “I just managed to refill the fridge this morning. With all the work and... the worrying these days I can barely do a few things right.” you sighed, sitting next to him but making sure to keep your distance. Even if the only place you truly wanted to be was his arms.

He took a sip of his beer before looking at you and letting a small sigh as well “(Y/n), I promised you I was going to end this and I will, even if it's the last case I work in my life. I will never forgive myself if I allow her to lay a single finger on you again.” he said softly yet firmly, his eyes showing how determined he was.

For a moment you actually got lost in his eyes as Dean tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear and soon cupped your cheek. You were keeping yourself so hard from nuzzling your face in his palm as his thumb rubbed softly over your cheek. His phone's buzzing caught both of your attention and you blinked, turning your head away as his hands fell. You heard him let out a slightly frustrated sigh but started typing back at the person.

“Who- who is it?” you whispered “If you don't mind me asking.” you hurried to add.

“Sammy” he said with a small smile “I'm talking with him about what more we can do about your protection. It's for sure she'll come for you at some point and we can't be unprepared. He'll look into all of her files tonight, he says, and try to estimate how many years she'll get in prison.”

“With all those murders, shouldn't she be in for life?” you whispered, feeling your heart beat in fear at the possibility of, even at being caught, her getting out at some point.

“We're not talking about regular prison, sweetheart.” he looked at you with a smirk “If we catch the bitch, alive, we'll make sure she goes somewhere she'll end up wishing I killed her. It's one of those places that officially doesn't exist but I am not supposed to talk to civilians about-” he paused, shaking his head “-Stupid FBI stuff, wasn't paying attention in that class.” he added with a grin and shrug and despite everything you actually let a giggle.

“But you are already talking to me about that.” you bit your lip and he raised an eyebrow, stopping for a moment his actions.

“Yeah, I am. But you're not just any civilian to me.” he said with a smirk and you just smiled to yourself.

“Send my greetings to Sam.” you said softly and he nodded his head, soon mumbling a “Done”. You had met Sam when you first came in town actually. He would travel a lot and it seemed like it was your luck to meet him that night at the bar, all that time ago, because if it wasn't for him you wouldn't have ended up meeting Dean a few years later when you really needed a cop's help. Sam had insisted he was the best at his job, which he absolutely was, and when you really found out they had been after her for very long it all became easier for you and you didn't feel like you were putting too much on their shoulders. Sam was a great friend, one you could always confide in with your biggest secrets, while Dean was... well, a whole other issue.

“He says hi too.” he told you after some time “And... is asking if you are drunk? What the hell, Sam?” he shook his head.

You giggled “I once told him that if I ever let you inside my house to spend the night here I would have had to consume an entire bar first.” you shrugged innocently as he gave you a look of disbelief.

“Wow (Y/n), thank you so much. That really is a confidence boost.” he scoffed as he typed something back to his brother.

“It's not about that and you know it. I'm sorry to inform you, detective Winchester but your reputation really does keep up with you. And with all those broken hearts you leave in your way, I am not really looking forward to being one of your many victims.” you said with a simple shrug and half smile, unable to really understand how much it actually got to him to hear you say this.

Maybe he didn't let it show on his face but it actually hurt him to know you considered him to be a womanizer with absolutely no feelings. He liked to flirt, alright, but he knew that what he felt for you could by no means compare to any of his previous flings. He was the type of man to always say 'rolling through town, no string attached' to every woman he'd been with, the morning after, but with you he didn't want that to be the case. And he hated it how your opinion about him was just that.

“You live a dangerous life, I can't blame you if you want to let some steam off here and there. I just can't afford that, that's all. I'm looking for something more permanent, more quiet, more slow and... more true. It's just we don't click, no harm with that, right detective?” you said with a small shrug, slightly bitter and sad about it but actually honest.

And that's what bothered Dean the most, he knew you meant it and actually thought of him as that. But truth was he wanted to offer you so much more, just the best because you deserved it but the life he led just took it all away from him and he feared there wasn't much he could do about it.

“Right” Dean said in a low hoarse voice as his eyes fell on the phone in his hands.

Truth was you did feel your own heart tighten inside your chest as you spoke the words but you were only being honest, as much as you wished you didn't have to. That was who he Dean Winchester was, and maybe your feelings for him had started growing dangerously so, but you had to keep everything under control because the two of you simply could not happen.

“Alright so-” you cleared his throat, the tension between you thickened but not in th good way “-Do you want something to eat? I know I don't have anything ready at the moment but I could always cook something quick.” you offered, already ready to get up.

Dean licked his lips, putting his phone away as he took a sip of his beer “I'd really need that to be honest, but I don't wanna put you into too much trouble.”

“Nonsense” you shook your head, offering him a soft honest smile “You are putting your life at stake for me, detective. It's the least I could offer.” you grinned fully at him and what you'd previously said had almost been forgotten. Almost. Because the tightness in his chest was still there.

“I would give my life for you any moment, (Y/n). Without a second thought.” he said as if it was the most simple thing for him but you actually couldn't stop your heart from skipping a beat.

“And I guess that's the problem with us, detective.” you whispered softly before licking your lips “How about-” your voice got louder “-Instead of your life, you give me your hand tonight?”

“You know I can really take this in many ways, right?” he asked with a sly smirk and you laughed at him “Because either you are implying something very naughty, which I am up for anytime, or you are asking me to marry you which once I am even more up for any-fucking-time.”

“You're unbelievable.” you scoffed but couldn't stop a wide smile from appearing “I was talking about cooking, Mr Winchester.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Aw shame, you already had me going.” he pouted those full lips that made you weak on the knees “But I'm still in, sweetheart.” he got up with an excited smile.

“If you really are tired though I can understand, Dean.” you said more softly now “I already feel bad I have to keep you up now, with all the work you must have had today at the police station.” you looked down in shame for a moment.

“(Y/n), I swear if you apologize one more time about having me here to look after you, in case she jumped on you, I will kiss the living heaven out of you to shut you up.” he said teasingly but still in a gentle voice tone “I want to be here, and it honestly is the most relaxed I've been in a lot while. Cooking with you will just take away more of the build up stress, trust me.”

“If you insist.” you shrugged with a smile.

~*~

“Alright, so what can the FBI do for you tonight m'am?” Dean said with a happy grin as he took of his suit jacket off and started rolling his sleeves. You tried so hard not to get carried away as you saw him drap it over one of the chairs, and then proceed to loosen his tie around his neck, along with undoing a few buttons. The small part of skin of his chest showing along with his arms, as he rolled his sleeves up, in perfect display for you made your heart skip beat after beat to the point you were sure it was not beating right.

“Uhm ye-yeah.” you cleared your throat looking away and opting for opening fridge to look inside “First, since you are my guest tonight just let me know what would you like to eat?” you smiled up at him as he leaned against the kitchen counter. The mere movement was so simple yet so captivating considering the muscles of his arms and chest flexed under his shirt and- oh boy, you were a goner.

“Well, since I don't want to tire my beautiful host tonight- how about some pasta with sauce? Easy, fast and tasty.” he smiled and you nodded your head.

“Sounds great to me. I'll make dessert too, and considering I have some filling already waiting in the freezer I'll make a quick dough and- I hope you like pie, detective because I am really in the mood for that tonight.” you smiled up at him but it definitely could not compare to the big childlike smile he gave you.

“Woman of my heart.” he breathed out “Why don't you just marry me already?” he asked in such an adorable way you had to hold yourself back from actually saying yes.

“I'm taking that you like it then.” you chuckled as you fetched everything the both of you needed “Alright, detective. Show me how skilled you really are.” you said with a mischievous smile and he chuckled, winking.

“Oh you'd be pleasantly surprised, miss (Y/l/n).” he replied as the both of you started working on the food.

Both you and Dean moved in perfect sync as you prepared everything. It almost came naturally to you but everything he did made you feel at home. You didn't even have to say a thing as you moved around each other while cooking, it almost made it look as if you were dancing. It all felt peaceful and despite the few jokes here and there, and the remarks from the man that had you laughing and blushing furiously, when silence would follow you had never felt more comfortable.

There were moments you got carried away staring at him as those perfect arms of his moved on the sauce and you could hear the faint hum of a song. You knew you recognized it, you were sure it was metallica, but you couldn't pinpoint what song exactly. It was a great contrast to see him so relaxed and at ease in comparison to his usually worried and reserved (if you could say) self when he was working on some case. He was a man that had seen a fair amount of things in this life and job, being into the entire cop thing ever since he was a young boy as Sam had told you, and sometimes it felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He could hardly let go of the memories that haunted him, from innocent victims to members of his team that he'd lost over the years. The most recent of them, that Sam had told you about actually, was someone named Charlie.

It was a great contrast to see him loosen up for a moment, especially when that moment was shared with you.

“Didn't know you had this in you, detective.” you mumbled with a sly smile when you heard him sing softly to himself while tapping his foot.

“You say anything to anybody, especially my brother, and I put you behind bars.” he tried to say seriously but a smile was on his face.

“You are the one with the gun, I am not going to push my luck.” you chuckled raising your hands; before the both of you went back to cooking.

The night went on by smoothly as you finished everything. You tried not to pay attention when he seemed to try to get close to you, trap you between the kitchen counter and his body because he wanted to get something from the drawers, but you certainly didn't miss the smirk on his face. After that the two of you ate in silence, only making a small talk but definitely feeling comfortable all the while.

“Just when I thought you couldn't get any more perfect.” Dean grinned as he took the last bite from his slice of pie and you giggled.

“It's all homemade, I'm glad you enjoyed it.” you took a sip of your whine and he did the same, grinning at you in the end.

“Enjoyed it? (Y/n) this is seriously the best damn pie I have ever eaten in my life!” he said like an excited little child “And trust me, I've eaten lots of it in my life.” he pointed out, resting his arms on the table as he leaned forwards.

You really tried hard not to get distracted by how well he looked with that loose tie around his neck, his shirt slightly undone and his arms showing because of his rolled-up sleeved. You never knew you'd have a thing for a man's arms this much before but Dean Winchester was really making you feel all sorts of things without even trying to.

“I don't really take pride in my cooking but that coming from you means a lot, Dean. So thank you.” you giggled, tucking a few strands behind your ear a little too shyly. You had managed to impress a man like him, much less have a dinner that – with the way you interacted – could as well be considered a date. This definitely surpassed every expectation.

“Don't, I'm just saying the truth.” he smiled at you clicking your glass with his “Just careful-” he paused for a moment “You're making me fall harder for you and I don't think I'll be able to stop it.” he winked and took a last sip of his whine as you did. In your case mostly to hide our blush.

“Alright-” you cleared your throat “Now that you've made me blush fifty shades of red-” you chuckled and he grinned “I really think you need to get some shut eye. You look really tired.”

“As much as I would love to stay the entire night up and talk with you, sweetheart-” he let a heavy sigh, running his hand through his hair “I'm beat. It's been a very long day and I really feel like I'm gonna pass out.”

“I understand. Uhm-” you got up and he followed suit “I have a guest room upstairs but- but it's a mess. After what happened with- yeah, I haven't been in to tidy things up and- I'm sorry, Dean.”

“Sweetheart, for real it's no problem. I can't blame you either. I've had so much worse, and considering the situation I am in, your couch seems very appealing too.” he gave you a lazy smile but you couldn't help but still feel bad.

“I- I wish I could ask you to sleep in my bed since it's big enough but- but that seems too straight forward.” you bit on your lower lip but his deep chuckle warmed your heart.

“Although that really seems like a dream coming true I'll wait to fight my way in there.” he gave you a soft grin “Promise, the couch seems great.”

“Alright.” you let a long sigh “I'm- I'm gonna get some blankets and pillows for you while you take a shower. And please, Dean-” you raised a hand before he could protest “-You are practically risking your life here for me, job or not, and going to sleep on my couch on top of it! A shower is much needed, we both know it. Now don't protest officer because I will have to use force and trust me, you don't want that.”

“Did you just call me an officer?” he asked with a perplexed smile and you just chuckled, shrugging.

“No matter your ranking you are always a cop, and that doesn't mean a shit to me now. Come on, I have a few fresh clothes for you to wear too. Shower's first door up the strairs, and don't question my order sir.” you said with a smirk as you walked forward.

Dean merely laughed to himself, shaking his head as he watched you leave with a fond smile as he breathed out “That woman.”

~*~

To say that Dean didn't need this shower would be a major lie. His entire bode felt sore and his muscles ached at first but definitely relaxed once he let the hot water run down on him. He got a little carried away, just resting his arm on the tiles and his head hanging low as the steaming water washed away all of his worries and most of his stiffness. Almost all of them at least. He couldn't find it in himself to not worry about you. The possibility of something happening to you put the fear of gods in him and he didn't like it one bit. He blamed himself for it, he couldn't help it.

Pushing back his wet hair he ran his hands down his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror after wiping away the steam to clear it out. He let out a heavy sigh as the same thought kept running through his mind, the same thought that hunted his every day ever since he found out she was after you.

“It's all my fault.”

He shook his head at it and turned to wrap a fluffy towel around his waist, appreciating the fact that you had let it there for him. He didn't notice any clothes so instead he opened the door only to instantly stop on his tracks when he felt something collide with his chest. His hands instinctively grabbed you before you could stumble and fall back. You blinked and finally looked up at him with those big innocent eyes of yours and for a moment he forgot how to breathe, let alone speak.

If only he knew how you were feeling at coming face-first with his bare chest. Bare wet chest, straight out of the shower with only a towel around his waist.

“S-sorry” you blinked, taking a step back and Dean let his hands fall by his side as he chuckled at you.

“No problem, sweetheart.”

You gave him a shy smile and brought the clothes up to him “Uhm I hope they fit. They are in good condition even if I practically ignored their existence all this time. They- they belong to an ex, not that... you really care about that, but he forgot them here after he moved out and... yeah.” you let out a shaky sigh.

Nobody could ever really prepare you for what truly was under those suits you always saw him in and boy was this a sight for sore eyes.

Dean scoffed but laughed “Idiot”

“Why?” you raised an eyebrow, giving him a perplexed look and he smiled at you.

“For letting a gorgeous woman like you go. Not that I can complain, if anything I should thank him sometime.” he chuckled and you bit your lip, smiling with a shake of your head.

“Well, Erik's pretty far away at the moment. Probably traveling somewhere in Europe or something but- Thanks for that, I appreciate it.” you giggled.

“Shame for him. You don't let the most exciting journey of being in a relationship with you just go away.” he said so smoothly you would have melted right then and there.

“Alright you poet-” you chuckled “I'll leave you to change, I've already prepared everything downstairs for you to sleep, and if you need anything just ask. No matter the time.” you said with a gentle smile and he nodded his head.

“You're a treasure.” he breathed out and you just brushed him off, turning away mostly to hide your blush.

~*~

Dean felt like sleep would envelop him any given minute but whenever he actually fell asleep he'd wake up because of some noise. He was on alert more so than usual and the gun under his pillow seemed to beg to be used every timesomething moved. The couch was much more comfortable than he expected but despite how tired he was he couldn't shake of the feeling or thought of you being in danger even with him there.

However this time, and just as he finally thought he could actually feel himself drift away there was another sound that caught his attention. But this one was the most disturbing of all: Your scream.

~~~

A/N: Aaaand it’s finally time to start with a taglist! If you want to be added, let me know down below please! My messages are a total mess. I’m also tagging a few people that were interested in the first part just for this one. Feedback is very much appreciated, let me know what you think of the story pretty please!

@akshi8278 @amandamdiehl @hobby27 @deans-baby-momma @musiclover1263 @feelmyroarrrr @sofreddie @skymoonandstardust @sis-tafics @babygabrielle-blog @woodworthti666 @gunpowder-and-smoke-inofficial @erule @lizwinchester16 @itslunabitches @itsquies @justkending @fiftyshadesofrebel @love-my-not-natural-babies

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot #detective!dean x reader #detective!dean winchester x reader

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thechildoflightning · 5 years ago

Text

The Kübler-Ross Model

Title: The Kübler-Ross Model [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: background LAMP

~~~

Chapter Title: Acceptance- Chapter Five

Summary:

Stage Five: Acceptance- Characterized by coming to terms with the loss and understand how deeply impacting it was, allowing the space to rebuild and move forward.

In which Remy is finally moving forward.

Warnings: Panic Attacks, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms (mentioned), Unhealthy Family Relationships, Food Mention, PTSD, Cults

[ao3 link]

Acceptance- Chapter Five

“Selected: Voicemail. One item. Tab one of one,” Remy’s phone says calmly. It’s from her dad. She puts her finger to the screen, sliding it around as she searches for the desired section.

“Voicemail.”

One finger down.

“Daniel Zurko. M-”

Double tap.

“Okay. Okay. You win. I’ll stop calling. I thought about cancelling your phone but… Your college fund is still yours. Your phone’s still yours. Everything I pay for is still yours. Most of that is already set up so we don’t- we don’t have to talk. I get it, you don’t want to. That’s okay. I- I’ll admit I’m not happy about it. I don’t- I don’t know how we fell apart Remy. But I- that’s in the past. If you want to change meal plans or need me to pay vet bills for Cha-Cha or- or- whatever, just let me know. I get you don’t want to call. And that’s your choice. I- You can say no. But you are- you are going to have to communicate at least a little bit if you want me to pay for those things. But we don’t have to talk. Your choice either way.”

“Remy?” a voice picks up, and Remy almost cries in relief, “Remy, why are you calling at… 4:26 in the morning?”

Remy shudders and tries to take a deep breath, failing halfway through with a wheeze.

“Remy?”

“Virgil,” Remy chokes out. And then again, “Virgil.”

“Hey. Hey. I don't know what’s going on Remy, but it’s going to be okay, alright? We’re going to get through this, it’s okay. Are you safe?”

“Yeah,” she wheezes out, because she’s drowning but only metaphorically, “yeah I’m,” she wheezes, “I-” When has breathing ever been this hard? “I can’t, I can’t breathe,” she pants.

“Okay. Hey that’s okay,” Virgil responds, “Do you know why you can’t breathe?”

“I- no.”

“Okay,” Virgil says. He keeps saying that Remy realizes. Keeps saying ‘okay’ that things are going to be ‘okay.’ How is anything ‘okay?’

“Virgil?” Remy asks, because she doesn’t know what else to say. She’s not sure she has the air to say any more.

“Yeah,” Virgil replies, “Okay Rem can you follow my lead? I’m going to ask you to take a deep breath in for four seconds. You’re then going to hold it for four. Then breathe out for four. And repeat. Got it?”

“Virgil.”

She’s desperate now. She’s not really what for. Air probably. She can’t breathe.

“Okay. We’re going to start. Got it? In. 1, 2, 3, 4. Hold. 1-”

Remy’s trying to follow it. She breathes in with Virgil but as she holds her breath falters and stutters and then she’s wheezing again, breath coming in big gulping gasps and she still can’t get enough of it.

She can’t do this.

“I c- I can’t,” she gets out between gasps.

“Yes you can Remy. I know it’s hard. But you can. We’re going to try again. Got it?”

Remy wants to scream at Virgil. Doesn’t Virgil get it? There’s no way she can do this. It’s impossible. She can’t breathe.

“Remy. In.”

Remy listens. She sucks in a breathe.

“1, 2, 3, 4. Hold. 1, 2, 3-”

Once again, she doesn’t make it, breath wheezing out too quickly as she continues to try and take desperate gulps of air.

“Remy,” Virgil’s insisting again, before she even has time to spiral, “Again. In.”

Remy breathes in.

“Hold.”

She holds. She makes it four seconds.

“Out.”

She breathes out for the full four.

Vigil runs her through the exercise a few times, waiting until her breathing is more steady. Eventually when her breathing is deep and even, he switches to counts of 4, 7, 8 instead of 4, 4, 4. Remy recognizes the new pattern. She’s seen Virgil run through it plenty of times.

She’s seen Virgil run through this exercise.

Holy shit is that what this was? Did Remy just have a panic attack? Virgil had a lot of those. Flashbacks too. God how did he deal with that, that was awful.

“Virgil. Did I- was that a panic attack?” she asks, because she still isn’t quite sure. She isn’t sure she wants to know either.

“Yeah,” he answers, “Yeah it was. Never had one before?”

“No.”

“Yeah. I- can I- do you know why you had it?”

It was time to share, wasn’t it?

“I miss my dad,” Remy admits. There’s so much more than that. But Remy doesn’t quite know how to say it, how to start. She falters. “I- Virgil, l-” she bursts into tears, starting and not stopping. Cha-Cha whines and licks at her tears.

Remy doesn’t hear Kai, so she hopes they’re still asleep. She really doesn’t want to involve them in this whole mess.

Her tears continue to fall.

“Hey, Remy can I come over?” Virgil says.

“Yes,” Remy says, because she’s drowning and she doesn’t know what to do but she knows she wants Virgil here with her. “Yes. Please.”

“Okay,” Virgil says, “I’m on my way, I’ll be there soon. You’re going to have to let me in, yeah? Meet me at the entrance?”

“Okay,” Remy says.

“Okay. I’m going to hang up now. Are you going to be okay for a few minutes?”

“Yeah,” Remy gets out, “Yeah I will be.”

“Okay. I love you Rem.”

Remy doesn’t get a chance to respond before Virgil hangs up.

She takes a minute to wipe away her current tears and slow down the ones still falling. She finally gets them to stop and breathes out a sigh of relief.

Virgil’s apartment is very close to campus and calming down took a bit, so she gets up to be at the door when he gets here. She shoves her sunglasses on- for protection, albeit a different type than usual- and grabs her cane. She lets Cha-Cha slip out next to her, even as she doesn’t bother putting her in her harness or leash. Remy trusts her to stay at her side, and she seems worried about her, so whatever, she can come.

Remy creeps down the hall and downstairs. She enters the main room and finds a chair, waiting for Virgil to show.

She feels exposed. She’s not sure if there’s anyone in the room with her, and it makes her uncomfortable to be unsure. She normally wouldn’t care but she knows that she must look like a mess. Not to mention how early it is. She taps her foot on the ground in a repeated pattern.

Her phone eventually buzzes with a text from Virgil and she goes to the door to let him in.

“Hey,” he says once he enters the main room.

Remy gives a small nod in return. Virgil lets out a heavy sigh.

“Can I give you a hug?” he asks.

Remy shrugs and then nods.

Virgil scoops her up, pulls her close. Remy’s taller than him by a fair bit, but she can’t help but feel protected in his arms. She almost starts crying again. She rubs pathetically at her eyes.

“We finally going to talk?” Virgil asks.

She nods once more.

“Okay. Good. Do you want to stay here, go to your room, or somewhere else?”

Remy swallows, considers. She doesn’t want to wake Kai, but she really doesn’t want people to see her falling apart like this. It’s too personal, too vulnerable.

“Do you have a preference?” she asks instead.

“Not too much,” Virgil answers, “I’d prefer that if we do go somewhere, we don’t stay outside and instead go to a physical location.”

A physical location will have people. Remy doesn’t want that. But she can also fully understand Virgil’s preference to not be outside alone at night.

“Are there people in here?” Remy asks.

“A few, yeah,” Virgil answers, “There’s someone on a computer in the corner by the long table. There’s two people studying together in the corner by the hall near the stairs.”

Remy nods, considers her options. She doesn’t want to wake Kai. But she’d rather risk that then have complete strangers watch her fall apart.

“Okay. Let’s go to my dorm.”

“Okay,” Virgil agrees, and lets her take the lead.

They make it to her dorm, Remy twisting the door open and allowing Virgil, Trixie, and then Cha-Cha to slip past her. Her dorm is really too small for three people and two large dogs, but it’ll have to do.

“I like the rainbow lights,” Virgil comments.

Remy chuckles. They were a pretty great addition to the room. It had also been one of the first things Kai and Remy did together as they became friends. The memory sits fondly in her mind.

“Yeah. They’re fun,” she remarks. Then pauses, because the main lights in the room are off. “You can see them? Are they on?”

“No they’re off, there’s just enough light from outside.”

Remy shrugs, because hell if she knows what people can and can’t see in the dark.

She sits on her bed. Virgil joins her. Trixie sticks close to his side, watching him attentively.

“So,” Virgil drawls, “You miss your dad?”

Remy nods, ashamed, and pulls her knees up tight to her chest. She feels like a little kid like this. She thinks she might cry again.

“Yeah,” she croaks, “I miss him and I don’t want to miss him. He was- I mean he loved me I know he did. And he wasn’t- I mean he wasn’t all bad? He really did care about me. But he was restrictive. He held me back, didn’t let me figure things out for myself. He micromanaged my entire life and took so many choices away from me. Virgil- Virgil he took Cha-Cha away. He took my service dog away Virgil. My dad,” Remy takes a deep breath as the memory comes flooding back. And once that first memory hits, so many more come with it. Her tone turns urgent.

“He’s- He used to lock me in my room sometimes too?” Remy admits, “When he- When I started to get frustrated that he’d never let me go outside by myself? Even after I had done all the lessons, after I had gotten good with a cane and then gotten good with Cha-Cha. God- he only let me start going places after I climbed out my window once. I don’t think I ever told you that?”

Remy knows she hasn’t told Virgil that. She hasn’t told anybody this story- half forgot it herself. But now, it all comes rushing back with vengeance.

“It was before we met,” Remy explains, “I was kind of an idiot. I tried to climb out my window on the second story of my house thinking that was a smart idea. I ended up falling- broke my arm. But I just- I couldn’t just stay at home. I couldn’t- I was suffocating and I needed to get out and Virgil I did, I finally did.”

The pain had been awful and the recovery time a bitch and as it healed his arm always itched under the cast but Remy could never find the time to be angry with herself because those brief moments of freedom were worth it.

It had to all come crashing down eventually.

“But this all sucks because I love him and I miss him and he’s my dad. And I know- I know he wanted the best for me. I know he loved me. He never- He never tried to hurt me. But he did. And I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Virgil just listens throughout Remy’s ramblings, giving small remarks of reassurance as she speaks.

“I miss him,” Remy cries, “I miss him and I hate that I do.”

She tips over collapses into Virgil’s side, burying her head in his shoulder as he gras her tight and doesn’t let go. He whispers soft reassurances in her ear, saying that he was there, that it would be okay, that it would be alright.

Remy sniffles a few more times and rubs at her eyes. She takes her sunglasses off and places them next to her on the bed.

“I have a few thoughts,” Virgil eventually says, voice careful and even, “Do you want to hear them or do you just need me to listen?”

“No- go ahead,” Remy says.

Virgil’s good at this stuff. It’s why Remy called him. Hopefully he’ll have some miraculous wisdom for her and everything will be fixed. Even so, Remy can’t help acknowledge how unlikely that is. There isn’t an easy fix to this issue.

“Okay Remy, I’m going to tell you something and it’s- It’s probably not something you’ve heard before but I’m going to need you to listen, okay.”

Remy mentally sets herself up, and gives a firm nod, ready for whatever enlightening advice to get over his father Virgil has.

“You’re allowed to miss him.”

Wait, what?

“You’re allowed to miss your dad. It’s not a bad thing you do- in fact it makes a lot of sense. Like you said, he did love you even if he made mistakes and hurt you. You were raised by him. It’s okay to miss him- hell it’s okay to still love him. And Remy- here’s the thing. The big thing. You can miss him, you can love him, and you can still hate him, and be mad at him, and you can still hurt. You can want nothing to do with him ever again and still miss him every goddamn day- do you hear me?”

Remy’s brain fumbles to keep up. This is not what she was expecting Virgil to say. She was expecting some genius advice about how to get over missing her dad, not that it’s okay to still miss him.

“I- what?”

“You can miss him. You can miss him and that doesn’t have to excuse the thing he did. Every feeling you have surrounding him, the good, the bad, the in between. All of that is okay Remy. Anything and everything you’re feeling is okay, it’s valid. Alright?”

“But I- I just- I thought you were going to tell me how to stop missing him?”

Virgil sighs.

“I’m not sure I can do that,” he admits, “I’m not sure you ever will. I think a lot of that comes with time. I- I-” Virgil takes a breath. “Trixie, cover,” he commands. Trixie jumps up, placing her front legs down on Virgil’s lap and setting her head down on him to ground him, “I still miss people from my past,” he admits, “And it’s different- it’s not the same at all. But it’s- I guess my point is that it’s okay to miss people. It’s okay to miss bad people. It’s okay to miss complicated people. It’s- those people might not be healthy for you and you shouldn’t justify the things you did, but your feeling surrounding them are valid, and it’s okay if you miss them.”

“I don’t want to miss him,” Remy admits, “I just want to- to move on with my life and forget about it.”

Virgil hesitates.

“I think part of that is- Okay well first off, that’s completely valid. It’s understandable for you to want to move on and away. And I think there’s parts of that would be good for you. But Remy- this repression thing you’re doing? It’s not going to work.”

“‘M not repressing,” Remy protests, “I’m moving on.”

Virgil waits.

“Yeah I didn’t believe that either,” Remy admits.

“At least you're admitting it, that’s the first step to acceptance,” Virgil says.

Acceptance. What a weird concept. What exactly is Remy supposed to accept?

She voices that exact question.

“Reality,” Virgil is quick to answer, “Your reality, that’s what you need to accept. And like- Remy I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. Reality acceptance is in all honesty one of the hardest things I’ve personally worked on. It isn’t easy. But it’s worth it. It’s- you learn that sometimes it’s not about moving on, but forward, and after that things sorta start to fall into place.”

Remy considers that for a moment. It leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

“How do I do that?” she asks.

Virgil sighs.

“I- That’s a good question,” he chuckles lightly and falls back on her bed, “I have a few worksheet thingies in a binder somewhere if I can find them. I can type those up and send them to you if you want. And then- I mean- reach out to people? You have us. You have me, you have Logan, you have some good friends it seems like. And I know you don’t know them as well, but I’m positive Pat and Ro would be willing to talk if you wanted to.”

Remy nods and thinks. She sighs and falls back onto the bed with Virgil.

“You could also see a therapist,” Virgil suggests.

Remy listens.

“There’s a lot of resources here on campus and I can walk you through that if you want. I personally don’t really know the exact therapy stuff they have because I needed trauma counselling I knew the school wouldn’t be able to provide. So I dunno if it’d be something you’re interested in or even something that helps. But it's an option. You have options,” Virgil explains.

“Okay,” Remy says. “Okay.”

She thinks this time she’s telling the truth.

“I- can I think about it?” she asks, because she isn’t really sure about therapy yet and all of this is a lot to consider.

“Yes,” Virgil agrees, “Yes absolutely.”

“Okay.”

She’s exhausted. But this time instead of a depressive haze, it feels like she just ran a marathon. It’s a good exhaustion. She feels like she’s getting somewhere.

“Thanks Virgil.”

“Yeah. No problem.”

They fall asleep like that, sprawled awkwardly on Remy’s tiny bed.

Remy wakes up to a confused sounding, “Hello?”

“Who the eff are you talking to gurl?” Remy asks with a yawn. She opens her eyes and Kai’s sitting on their bed, backlit by the windows bright morning light.

“The new dog that randomly appeared in our dorm? Last I checked there was only one,” Kai responds.

Right. Last night was a thing.

Her eyes sting a bit. They dry out quickly to begin with and the crying last night definitely did not help. She roots through the drawer next to her bed to find the bottle of eyedrops. It only takes a minute to locate. She leans her head back, let’s the drops splash in as she answers Kai’s question.

“That’s Trixie, she bugging you?” she asks as she blinks rapidly. The liquid settles.

“Well she woke me up with kisses so I wouldn’t say she’s bugging me, but I mean bit of a surprise.”

“Trixie, come,” Remy calls.

Trixie walks over, collar jingling. Remy gets her to sit and gives her a few pets before letting her be.

“Sorry, she’s probably just hungry. I think Virgil feeds her earlier than I feed Cha-Cha.”

“So you just explained absolutely nothing. And who’s Virgil?”

“I’m Virgil.”

Remy jumps at the noise as Virgil sits up next to her, also yawning.

“Jesus, way to scare a guy,” Kai says. Remy privately agrees.

“Trix,” Virgil calls, and Remy realizes that Virgil’s shaking slightly. Trixie obeys, going over to Virgil. “Cover,” he commands, and she jumps up onto the bed and settles on top of him to do DPT.

“You alright?” Remy asks.

“Yeah. I just- I didn’t know where I was.”

Remy nods, offers her hand. Virgil squeezes it and takes a deep breath before letting go.

“Well, Virgil this is Kai, Kai this is Virgil. You’re both absolute assholes who are insistent on caring about me, so I think you’ll get along well.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kai greets, “I use he/they pronouns. They/them right now. Your dog has better breath than Cha-Cha, so props to you.”

Virgil laughs and Remy jumps to defend Cha-Cha (even though Kai does have a point).

“Yeah sorry, she usually eats earlier. Oh and he/him for me.”

“It’s good- I needed to get up anyways,” Kai replies. They stand and stretch. “And honestly, a dog sounds about a billion times better than an alarm clock.”

“It’s nice until the weekends,” Remy grumbles, “And then I want to sleep in and Cha-Cha’s trying to wake me up at 7 for food.”

“See this is the advantage of getting boyfriends. I can get Roman to feed her when he gets up to pray.”

“Gotta get me one of those,” Remy agrees. She wipes a hand over her face, still feeling exhausted. “Ugh. What time is it? And can someone turn the sun off? It’s too bright.”

“Yup lemme just go turn an actual star off,” Kai says the same time as Virgil says, “bit before 7.”

Remy wants to go back to sleep. It’s so early. But she also has an 8 am today. Fuck school.

“Ugh,” she whines again, and clamors out of her bed, “I hate 8 ams.”

Virgil laughs at her, the jerk.

“Get used to it.”

“Okay- well I’m headed to the dining hall for breakfast,” Kai jumps in. “Rem you joining me?”

“Yeah sure,” she yawns. “Virgil, wanna come with?”

“Sure,” he agrees, and a new day begins

Logan meets her outside her dorm building.

“Hey,” he says, just as she exits.

“Hi,” she says in return, expecting him.

They walk to lunch together.

Logan doesn’t bring up any topics of importance. In fact, he doesn’t talk much at all, just responds to whatever Remy’s saying. She’s not surprised. She was the one who texted him saying they needed to talk after all.

“I’m sorry I haven’t really been talking to you lately,” she says.

Logan takes the words and accepts them.

“I-” she hesitates. She’s done this once now, it should be easy to do it again. “I miss my dad.” It isn’t easy at all, but this time it may be slightly easier than before. Maybe it'll keep getting easier. She hopes.

If it doesn’t get easier that would suck. But she’ll have to learn to manage, because this is something she needs to talk about.

“Oh,” Logan says. “Oh okay.”

She nods.

They talk.

Remy shares everything.

Logan understands and he’s sweet and he’s caring and- unlike her father- Logan listens to her. He listens to her and Remy feels heard.

She’s not so sure what was so hard about this in the first place.

“I’m still not quite sure why you didn’t just tell me in the first place,” Logan admits. Remy can’t help but agree.

“It was… hard,” she comes to it, “It was hard. It was hard to admit that I missed someone that hurt me. Someone who I’m likely going to have no to minimal contact with for the rest of my life. That was hard to accept. I’m still struggling to accept it.”

“Okay,” Logan says, and he doesn’t say that he understands or gets what she’s going through because he doesn’t get it, not quite. But he says okay, and he listens, and Remy thinks it might finally be okay. She’s going to be okay.

“Oh,” she says. She picks at her food, because this is a big decision, “Oh and I’m transgender. I’m still going by Remy but I’m using she/her pronouns and feminine language now.”

“Oh. So that’s what you talked to Patton about,” comes Logan’s immediate response. It’s such a Logan thing to say. Remy’s missed it, missed him. She smiles and this time it doesn’t feel so fake.

They talk for a bit longer. Logan offers the support he’s able to. Remy says she’ll reach out more. She mentions that Virgil brought up therapy, says she might look into that. Logan supports her. She doesn’t need his support, but it’s nice to have anyway.

Maybe she doesn’t need a lot of things, but she thinks that some of her wants might be just as important.

They finish lunch.

Remy moves forward.

Cha-Cha is trying to find Elliot. The weather's shit today and Remy doesn’t want to go outside, but Cha-Cha needs attention and exercise so Kai, Remy, and Elliot started playing hide-and-seek with her down in the main room right where you enter the dorm building.

No one seems to mind them much. In fact, many people seemed to enjoy the distraction from the dreary weather outside, and now there’s a whole group playing.

Remy always gets out first. Cha-Cha intentionally seeks her handler out before anyone else. She’ll zoom past everyone else just to find Remy’s hiding spot. Remy thinks it would be frustrating if it wasn’t so adorable. She has such a good dog.

“Cha-Cha’s too good at this,” Elliot sighs, and falls onto the seat on the couch next to Kai and her.

Remy and Kai murmur agreements.

Remy thinks, and decides now is as good of a time as any.

“Hey,” she says, “Sorry I haven’t really been uh… reaching out lately.” She’s not sure if those are the right words to describe what she’s been doing. But she doesn’t have better ones. She hopes Kai and Elliot understand.

“Oh so you’re finally going to talk to us?” Kai bites back. He’s caring but there’s a certain bitterness in his tone.

“Kai,” Elliot admonishes.

Kai sighs, shifts.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Remy says, “I know I haven’t really been great at talking.”

She pauses, they wait.

“I- uh well I don’t really- Me and my dad haven’t-” She sighs, swallows her fear, and let’s herself admit the truth, “I sorta came to college this year without my dad’s support. He doesn’t think it’s something I’m capable of. We’re not really on the best of terms right now. But it’s hard, because he’s my dad, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Elliot says, “Yeah Remy, I do know.”

Remy shuts her eyes for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Elliot hasn’t talked a lot about their family, but they have said a bit about how they’ve always sort of been an outsider. They’ve explained that their parents have meant well, but never quite hit the mark. They haven’t gone into details, and they certainly haven’t said much, and they don’t need to.

“Family can be hard,” Kai adds, “And I- I get the doubt in your capabilities, especially when you’re already facing limitations.”

Remy’s throat constricts; she doesn’t think it’s possible to feel anymore than she does. Kai understands in a way that most people don’t. Remy knows she has limits, some things she’s never going to be able to do. That’s a fact of life. Kai has those too, Kai gets what it’s like to have people want to make decisions for you; those people who mean well, but also don’t listen. Kai knows what it’s like to live in an inherently ableist world, and like Remy, has learned how to adapt.

Remy realizes her friends might understand much more than she gives them credit for.

It’s relieving, to have that support.

“Yeah,” Remy admits. She breathes in, and accepts. It’s going to be okay. She’s okay.

There’s a lot she has to work through still. There’s still the tang of bitterness that comes with missing her dad. She still hasn’t told Virgil about being trans. She’s probably going to have to call her dad to get some of her school finances figured out. Things aren’t immediately fixed.

But things are finally on the right track. Remy finally has control back, has a plan.

She’s going to be okay. She’s going to be okay. She’s going to be okay.

Remy repeats that like a mantra, allows it to carry her through even when the stress of everything around her rises.

She’s going to be okay.

Cha-Cha comes over, whines and nudges her. Remy’s lips quirk up into a smile.

They go back to playing hide-and-seek.

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