#trying to buy a pull out cabinet organizer TODAY

[scientologisabethmoss]

there is a hole in my heart and it is called the bed bath & beyond physical store

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Gremlin update supplemental September 12th 2024

It's September and it was getting really cool at night so I was under the impression I could take my air conditioner out for the year...

Wrong.

It's over 30 degrees in here and I was already sweating because of the pain I am in.

Had to put the stupid thing back in with every joint in my hands and wrists swollen to all fuck.

I got a call from my landlord today because they somehow already misplaced my registration e-mail and were trying to let me know that if they needed entry in an emergency or otherwise, they're only willing to e-mail me about it for warning, even being told I don't check my email even daily, let alone often enough for an emergency.

Really hoping this isn't step one of them pulling some bullshit.

Still trying to watch through all the old x-men cartoons and movies at once while recovering from full body gout and the dermatomayositis.

Mostly, I wake up with slightly sore knees and wrists and hands that are swollen to all fuck. I do not know what my hands think they are doing, but my left wrist was so swollen this morning I kept getting pins and needles in my fingers.

The blister on the back of my finger is an inflated blister again. It seems to fluctuate with hydration levels, but it isn't bothering me.

I am eager to get back to doing some serious cleaning and organizing again. At least I have been doing laundry to get that all caught up with the machine, but from the moment I was like "okay this step is done and it looks presentable so I can chill for a bit now" I have been horribly sick with autoimmune attack and gout and that doesn't feel very fucking much like taking a break... And yet... And yet I am chomping at the bit to be able to just do something fucking useful with my body because it has been uncooperative for so long.

At least i don't have to do laundry in the sink anymore.

I shrank the list of "life improvement purchases" down to 1 batch under 500, and a secondary batch for good storage options I haven't gotten yet, but probably will once I downsize more [also under 500]. The rest I may never get -at least not living here- because there isn't room between the cabinets for most counter top dishwashers, and other things like that. So, really under one month's rent to fix every problem I have that can be fixed by throwing money at it, including all my pants being threadbare and beyond any reasonable repair. Without dipping into savings for that or my winter groceries.

And yeah, I was getting a kick out of repairing the same 3-4 pairs of fast fashion pants for over 10 years and simply refusing to ever buy more... But they were getting threadbare enough that too much flexing any muscle or moving around would tear them back open along new lines, and yes, if my hands were working I could keep repairing them and I could keep wearing stretch leggings under them so my ass doesn't show, but at some point you are just walking around in full werewolf aesthetic because it is obvious you have ripped out of your clothes like 20+ times and it just starts to become absurd not to buy new clothes.

I got to buy men's jeans this time. No they are not cut to fit my body but I can sew. I mean I am still going to do some elaborate patching of the other 4 pairs of pants, but at this point those other pants pretty much ARE the patches for the next set I ruin.

I was doing so good last time until i had to lift my cart into the house. I still plan on making a ramp but that's going to take time.

I am so fucking tired and my nerves are raw from being in screaming pain all over my body for about a month on end now... But I have been enjoying many fried proteins and home-cut fries.

I'm recovering, really, just not nearly as fast as I used to and it makes me cranky and I am sorry. I promise I am still fun and chill T~T

[cabinetorg442]

Cabinet Spice Organizer

Cabinet Spice Organizer: Why You’d Need It and How It’s Great

In today’s fast-paced world, organizing our homes can significantly impact our daily lives. One area that often goes overlooked is the kitchen, particularly the spice cabinet. A well-organized spice cabinet can make a remarkable difference in cooking efficiency and enhance the overall culinary experience. This blog article will explore why you’d need a cabinet spice organizer and how it can elevate your kitchen space.

Introduction

Have you ever found yourself rummaging through a cluttered cabinet, desperately searching for that one elusive spice to complete your dish? You’re not alone. Many home cooks experience the frustration of disorganized spices. A cabinet spice organizer can help streamline your cooking process, making it easier to find what you need when you need it. In this article, we will discuss the various benefits of having a cabinet spice organizer, from saving time and reducing stress to enhancing your cooking creativity.

The Benefits of a Cabinet Spice Organizer

1. Enhanced Accessibility

One of the primary benefits of a cabinet spice organizer is enhanced accessibility. When your spices are organized, you can quickly identify and retrieve the ingredients you need. Many organizers feature tiered shelving or pull-out drawers that provide a clear view of all your spices, eliminating the need to dig through a jumble of jars. This accessibility can significantly speed up your cooking process, especially during busy meal prep times.

2. Space Optimization

Kitchens often have limited storage space, and maximizing that space is crucial. A cabinet spice organizer allows you to utilize your cabinet space more effectively. By neatly arranging your spices, you can free up shelf space for other kitchen essentials. Many organizers are designed to fit in standard cabinets, allowing you to take advantage of every inch of available space. This optimization not only creates a more organized kitchen but also provides a more visually appealing environment.

3. Reduces Waste and Saves Money

An organized spice cabinet can help reduce waste and save you money in the long run. When spices are cluttered and hard to find, it’s easy to forget what you have or to mistakenly buy duplicates. By clearly displaying your spice collection, a cabinet spice organizer helps you keep track of what you already own. This way, you can use spices before they expire and avoid unnecessary purchases, ultimately saving you money on your grocery bills.

4. Promotes Culinary Creativity

Cooking should be an enjoyable and creative process, and an organized spice cabinet can encourage that creativity. When your spices are neatly arranged and easily accessible, you’re more likely to experiment with different flavors and ingredients. This organization makes it easier to try new recipes or invent your own culinary creations. Whether you’re an experienced chef or a novice home cook, having an organized spice cabinet can inspire you to explore new culinary horizons.

5. Simplifies Meal Planning

Meal planning can be a daunting task, but an organized spice cabinet can simplify the process. When you can easily see what spices you have, you can quickly plan meals around available ingredients. This visibility can also help you create shopping lists more effectively, ensuring you have everything you need to prepare your meals. A cabinet spice organizer acts as a valuable tool in your meal prep arsenal, making cooking more enjoyable and less stressful.

6. Aesthetically Pleasing

In addition to its practical benefits, a cabinet spice organizer can enhance the aesthetic appeal of your kitchen. A clean and organized spice cabinet can make your kitchen feel more inviting and well-kept. Many spice organizers come in various styles and materials, allowing you to choose one that complements your kitchen décor. Whether you prefer a modern look or a rustic vibe, a well-organized spice cabinet can elevate the overall aesthetic of your cooking space.

Choosing the Right Cabinet Spice Organizer

When it comes to selecting the perfect cabinet spice organizer, several factors should be considered:

1. Size and Dimensions

Before purchasing a spice organizer, measure your cabinet space to ensure the product fits. Consider the height, width, and depth of your cabinet to choose an organizer that maximizes your available space.

2. Type of Organizer

There are various types of cabinet spice organizers, including tiered shelves, pull-out drawers, and rotating racks. Consider your cooking habits and preferences when selecting the type that suits you best. For example, if you often use spices, a pull-out drawer may be more convenient, while a tiered shelf can provide better visibility.

3. Material and Durability

The material of your spice organizer is essential for durability and maintenance. Look for organizers made from high-quality materials that can withstand regular use. Easy-to-clean surfaces are also a plus, as spills and dust can accumulate in the kitchen.

4. Design and Aesthetics

As mentioned earlier, the design and aesthetics of your spice organizer matter. Choose a style that complements your kitchen décor and enhances the overall look of your cooking space. A well-designed organizer can serve as a decorative element in addition to its functional purpose.

Tips for Maintaining an Organized Spice Cabinet

Once you’ve invested in a cabinet spice organizer, maintaining an organized space is crucial. Here are some tips to help you keep your spice cabinet in top shape:

1. Regularly Check Expiration Dates

Spices can lose their potency over time, so regularly check expiration dates and discard any expired items. This practice will ensure you’re using fresh spices and reduce clutter in your cabinet.

2. Reorganize as Needed

Over time, you may acquire new spices or change your cooking habits. Regularly reassess your spice organization system to ensure it still meets your needs. If you find certain spices are rarely used, consider relocating them to a less accessible spot or removing them from your collection.

3. Label Containers

If you’re using clear containers or jars, consider labeling them to make it easier to identify each spice. Clear labels can help prevent confusion and save time when searching for specific spices.

4. Keep a Consistent System

Establish a consistent organization system that works for you. Whether you choose to organize spices alphabetically, by cuisine, or by frequency of use, consistency will make it easier to maintain your organized spice cabinet.

Conclusion

A cabinet spice organizer is not just a convenient kitchen accessory; it’s a game-changer for any home cook. From enhancing accessibility and optimizing space to promoting culinary creativity and simplifying meal planning, the benefits of a well-organized spice cabinet are undeniable. Investing in a cabinet spice organizer will streamline your cooking experience, reduce waste, and elevate the overall aesthetic of your kitchen. So, if you’ve been struggling with a cluttered spice cabinet, consider making the switch to an organized system. Your culinary adventures will become more enjoyable and efficient, allowing you to create delicious meals with ease.

[kabbur28]

How to Keep Your Bottles Organized and Accessible with Zipco's Bottle Pullout

In today’s ever-changing world, organization is the key to a functional and clutter-free living space. No matter what you’re storing, whether its bottles of beverages, condiments or cleaning products, pull-outs help you to keep your products organized. One area that’s often neglected is the storage of the bottles. Bottles can easily turn into a chaotic mess if not stored correctly, resulting in frustration and wasted time when trying to find what you need. Therefore, most modular kitchens are fitted with a bottle pullout system, which is a great solution to this problem.

At South India Agencies, we have a great selection of pull-outs for you to choose from. Our pull-out modules are side-mounted, under mounted with shelves, making them easy to lift out and transport. They’re so beautiful and elegant that you’ll want to use them for decorative purposes. The sleek and removable plate rack, with metal designer grips, is another smart accessory for modern dining.

Why do water bottles clutter the place?

Water bottles can be one of those items that you seem to get more and more of over time. Maybe you buy a few as a gift; maybe your kids get a few when they play sports. Whatever the case may be, you can’t seem to get enough of them.

Hydration is important, and using reusable water bottles is one of the best ways to reduce plastic use. However, they can be difficult to keep organized since they take up so much space and don’t fit in most cupboards or drawers. Plus, they come in all sorts of shapes and sizes and come with all sorts of accessories like lids and straws that make it hard to keep them organized.

Whether it’s a wine bottle, kitchen condiments, cleaning products, or personal care products, having too many bottles in one place can create a chaotic and disorganized environment. It’s easy to get lost when you’re trying to find a specific bottle, especially when it’s all piled up on top of each other.

Bottle Pullout: a solution

A Bottle Pullout is a clever storage solution that brings order to the chaos of bottle storage. It consists of specialized pullout shelves or racks designed to hold bottles securely and allow for easy access like any other products from Zipco.

Advantages of a bottle pullout system

The Bottle Pullout is designed to make the most of the space you have available. It can be installed in your kitchen cabinets, pantries or even under your countertops, freeing up unused or wasted space.

You can easily access your bottles with a Bottle Pullout. You don’t have to rummage through cluttered shelves to find what you need.

The bottles are neatly organized and visible, so you can easily see what you have. Not only does this save you time, but it also prevents you from wasting money on unnecessary purchases.

The Bottle Pullout comes in different sizes and configurations, so you can customize it to fit your needs.

A well-designed Bottle Pullout can add a touch of elegance and tidiness to any kitchen, pantry or storage area.

The safety of your bottles is guaranteed, as the Pullout keeps them safe from spills and accidents.

Having a designated space for bottles frees up shelf space and counter space, which can be used for other items, making your living spaces more functional.

Conclusion

A bottle pullout system is a practical and efficient solution to the common problem of bottle storage. It offers numerous benefits, including improved organization, easy access, and enhanced aesthetics. By keeping your bottles neatly arranged with a Bottle Pullout, you can streamline your daily routines, save time and money, and enjoy a clutter-free living space. So, invest in this smart storage solution and transform the way you store and access bottles in your home. Visit L’ATELIER of South India Agencies at Bangalore or Mysore today and have a real-time experience prior to your purchase. We are sure you will thank us for such an irresistible product-mix from international brands of repute at economical prices.

[kookeeindia]

Buy Kitchen Cabinet Storage Online In India

Are you looking for kitchen cabinet storage solutions in India? You've come to the right place! kookee.

Here are a few things to consider when choosing kitchen cabinet storage:

The size of your kitchen: If you have a small kitchen, you'll need to choose storage solutions that are compact and space-saving.

The type of food you store: If you have a lot of spices, you'll need storage solutions that are airtight and moisture-proof.

Your budget: Kitchen cabinet storage can range in price from very affordable to quite expensive.

Once you've considered these factors, you can start shopping for kitchen cabinet storage online. There are a number of great websites where you can buy kitchen cabinet storage in India, including Amazon, Flipkart, and Kookee.

Here are a few of the most popular kitchen cabinet storage solutions in India:

Pull-out shelves: Pull-out shelves are a great way to maximize the space in your kitchen cabinets. They make it easy to access items that are stored at the back of the cabinet, and they also help to keep your cabinets organized.

Lazy Susans: Lazy Susans are a great way to store small items in your kitchen cabinets. They allow you to rotate the shelf to access all of the items, and they also help to keep your cabinets organized.

Storage containers: Storage containers are a great way to keep your kitchen organized and clutter-free. They come in a variety of sizes and materials, so you can find the perfect ones for your needs.

No matter what your needs are, you're sure to find the perfect kitchen cabinet storage solution online. So start shopping today and declutter your kitchen!

Here are some additional tips for buying kitchen cabinet storage online in India:

Read the reviews before you buy. This is a great way to get feedback from other customers and see if the product is right for you.

Compare prices from different websites. This will help you find the best deal on the product you're looking for.

Make sure the product is returnable if you're not happy with it. This way, you can try it out and see if it's right for you before you commit to buying it.

[mandelirious]

Brown Eyes

2: The Reveal

modern din x reader; coffee shop au

word count: 2.6k

a/n: part 2 is here!! i’m having so much fun writing my own little rom-com so i hope you’re enjoying it as well!! as always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated 💕

series masterlist

It was another week until you saw him again. You’d be embarrassed to admit it, but you’d been waiting for him to walk in for days–eyes snapping up to the door every time the bell rang only to be disappointed when you weren’t greeted by soft eyes and messy curls.

It was another break in the stream of customers and you were crouched on the floor, head fully inside one of the cabinets as you tried to sort out the mess the morning crew had made. Someone clearly hadn’t taught the new hire how things were organized and you weren’t going to wait until the middle of a rush to be hunting down the lids for your large cups. Your coworker, Keira, was handling any of the customers that came in while giving you an impromptu lecture on plant care. Keira was your favorite coworker and so effortlessly cool that you’d be self-conscious around her if she wasn’t so nice. She brought in clippings from her own plants to decorate the shop’s back wall of shelves–random shoots and leaves suspended in mason jars of water that she somehow kept healthy and growing. You’d killed every plant she had gifted you over the years and she was refusing to let you give up and buy plastic ones instead.

The bell at the door rang during Keira’s explanation of how to water perennials that you were only half listening to. You were still wedged in the cabinet, having almost gotten everything in its proper place when you heard a familiar, gruff voice.

“Uh, Americano with cinnamon?”

Your head popped up reflexively at the order–right into the top of the cabinet.

“Shit,” you hissed, rubbing the top of your head as you extricated yourself and looked up. There he was, watching as you crouched on the floor holding your throbbing head. This wasn’t the second impression you’d been hoping for.

“You good?” Keira was also looking at you now, head tilted in concern.

“I’m great,” you answered as you straightened up, trying to figure out when exactly you’d gotten out of breath. “Actually, I’ll take this one.” Your failure at sounding nonchalant was obvious as Keira's eyes flicked between you and the new customer, but she just shrugged and went to rearrange pastries.

“Are you okay?” His eyes were trained on you, that small smile on his lips, and you remembered why you’d been so eager to see him again.

“Oh, I’m fine.” You waved away his concern and hoped he couldn’t read the embarrassment on your features. He didn’t need to know that you’d literally jumped at the chance to talk to him. Your eyes fell on him again, taking in his features as quickly as you could before it became staring. He looked a little more rested this time, eyes brighter when they met yours. His hair was just as messy as before, but that might have had something to do with the motorcycle helmet he had tucked under one arm. You quickly compartmentalized the mental picture of him on a bike for another time. “Brown Eyes, right?”

His grin chased away any shyness you might have had at saying the nickname he’d inspired. In fact, he looked so pleased that you wondered if he’d been expecting you to forget about your exchange the week before. It was so endearing that you started on his drink to save yourself from grinning back at him like an idiot. A silence was stretching out, broken only by the sound of the espresso machine pulling his shots and the soft instrumental music that Keira played over the intercom during her shifts.

“I’m sorry.” You glanced up at his words, glad he had broken the silence when you couldn’t. He was looking at the counter and then letting out another of those self-deprecating laughs. “If I was a zombie last week, I was going on no sleep. I promise I’m not always that spaced out.”

“Yeah, I thought you looked better today.” You made a face right after the words were out, realizing how they’d sounded. Luckily, he was still smiling as you opened your mouth to backtrack.

“No, it’s okay. I like getting insults with my coffee.” There was a glint in his eye that let you know he was anything but offended. You rolled your eyes at his teasing and hoped the blush wasn’t evident on your cheeks.

This time when you set the drink on the counter in front of him, you wished you had picked something a little more complicated to keep him around longer. You also wished, for the first time, that this was a coffee shop that asked for customer’s names when they ordered. Calling him Brown Eyes in your head was starting to feel far too sappy. The butterflies you were starting to feel when seeing his smile weren’t helping either.

He paid for his drink this time, plus a nice tip that you pretended not to notice when you flipped around the iPad that served as your cash register. There was silence again, but not uncomfortable. His face looked as though he was thinking something through and you gave him the moment to figure it out. Those beautiful eyes flicked over to the other end of the counter, where Keira was putting out more chocolate chip cookies from a local bakery you partnered with and pretending not to listen to your conversation.

“Do you work Thursdays?” His attention was back on you, the question blurted out like he was afraid he would lose his nerve.

You bit your lip to stop what would be an embarrassing smile. “Usually.”

“Maybe I’ll see you then.” He was ducking his head again as he started for the door, but you could see his grin when you managed to get out a small word of agreement.

The door swung shut behind him and you looked over to see Keira’s eyebrows halfway up her forehead. You crouched again and hid your flaming cheeks back in the cabinet.

Two days passed far too slowly until you found yourself once again checking the door constantly on a sluggish Thursday afternoon. You were determined to be confident and casual this time. Not even the shop’s owner stopping in for a surprise visit could throw you off your game. Greef Karga had opened this place a decade ago and was the most hands-off supervisor you’d ever had. He knew you had the day-to-day things under control and only handled a few behind-the-scenes tasks on his own. Every once in a while he would decide to hang around for what he referred to as ‘quality control’, but was really just an excuse to drink coffee and chat. Greef called Nevarro Coffee House his ‘semi-retirement project’, though you had no idea what he’d actually retired from except that he’d apparently done very well at it.

You glanced over your laptop screen where you were pretending to write to see the older man still poking around the supply closet. God, you hoped he wouldn’t still be here when Brown Eyes showed up. Greef was nice, but you didn’t need your boss as an audience to your awkward flirting attempts. Not awkward, confident, you reminded yourself. A phone call thankfully took him out of the shop a few minutes later and you breathed a sigh of relief. It was perfect timing now–only a few hours left in the day for your favorite customer to show up. Plus, closing by yourself ensured that no other coworkers would be in the shop to ask you questions afterward about a man you knew nothing about. Questions like all of the ones you’d dodged from Keira a few days ago.

For once, the universe was listening to you and the door was pushed open for a head of dark curls to poke through. Had he gotten more handsome? Maybe it was just the scruff now lining his jaw that hadn’t been there before.  

“Hi,” he greeted. His face looked adorably relieved to see you and his warm smile as he approached the counter was already making your stomach flip.

“Hi yourself.” Confidence, confidence, confidence, was playing like a mantra in your head, but you were feeling anything but. You hadn’t been this frazzled around someone in a long time and you still couldn’t quite explain why he was the one having this effect on you. It was more than his handsome face and perpetual bedhead. It was the small smiles, the shyness, the expressions he was clearly bad at hiding. It was something to do with the way his eyes followed you, curious and sincere–patient even when you’d been watching him without saying anything for too long. Which you were doing right now. Shit. “The usual?”

“Please.” He had the motorcycle helmet in his hands again and set it down on one of the stools in the middle of the counter. Its rounded surface wobbled slightly and you could see leather gloves tucked inside as well. Did setting his stuff down mean he was staying? Apparently so, as he was now settling on a stool at the counter halfway between you and the display case. The butterflies in your stomach were suddenly swarming.

“Hanging around today?”

He shrugged at your question. “I’ve got some time.” Glancing over your shoulder, he was immediately reminding you of the first time you’d made him this drink. The all-consuming exhaustion was gone from his eyes, but he was leaning his elbow on the counter the same way, watching you curiously with his head on his hand.

“Are you usually busy?”

“More than I’d like.”

You’d thought he came into the shop at odd times, usually early afternoon when most people hadn’t gotten out of work yet. From the charming grays in his beard, you guessed he was a few years older than you, but not old enough to be retired. Whatever he did, it must have odd hours. You were just about to ask when he pointed to the coffee grounds in your hand.

“What do you use for this drink?”

The question threw you off a little, but you looked down at the bag in your hands, sealing it up before pushing it down the counter towards him. A tanned hand plucked it off the light wood and flipped it around for his inspection. All of the beans you used came from a local roaster to ensure they were fresh. Hands off as he was, Greef knew good coffee.

“Trying to replicate it?” you teased, enjoying the smirk it brought to his lips.  

Shaking his head, he slid the bag back over the counter. “I don’t think I’d make it as well as you.” It was obvious flattery, but you were happy to let him get away with it. You tapped out a perfect line of cinnamon down the middle of the finished drink and handed it over.

He inched out of his stool and you were worried for a moment that he might be leaving, but it was only to grab his wallet. Even though you were pretty sure you knew the answer, you glanced at his left hand while he was paying. Nothing, not even a tan line on his ring finger. Although he did look far too pleased with himself when you looked back up. He had to have caught you checking, but smug looked so good on him that you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

“I wanted to ask…” He was having trouble meeting your eyes now as he spoke and your heart was very suddenly in your throat. “I know you’re at work so please feel free to stop me whenever, but…would you like to go out for a drink sometime?” The last part was pushed out of his lungs in a hurry, much like the way he’d asked before if you would be working today.

The butterflies in your stomach had reached a crescendo and then dissolved into a pleasant buzz. You bit your lip to keep your grin from reaching embarrassing proportions and nodded, falling a little in love with the way his eyes lit up. Quickly grabbing a napkin, you scribbled down your first name and number. He took the napkin from you like it was something precious, eyes roving over the curls of ink. Then, your name was coming out of his mouth in that deep gravelly voice and you thought you might melt on the spot.

The pair of you had to look like two idiots grinning at each other like this, but you couldn’t help it. “Do I get to know your name?”

He looked confused for a moment and then cringed at himself, like he’d completely forgotten he even had a name. “Shit. Sorry, I’m D-”

“Din Djarin!”

Both of your heads turned to the back door where Greef was entering with a wide smile on his face–effectively breaking the bubble that had settled around the two of you. Din looked just as confused as you that your boss was calling his full name until recognition clicked in his eyes a split second later. “Karga?”

They were giving each other a handshake and then a hug, and you were left to cluelessly look between them wondering what exactly was happening. At least you’d gotten his name. Din–it suited him.

Greef seemed completely oblivious to what was going on when he entered, but you noticed Din carefully fold the napkin and tuck it into his back pocket.“It’s been months and no one’s seen you around. Let me get you something.” The older man clapped him on the shoulder and moved behind the counter. Seeing Din’s drink already paid for, he gestured to the display case. “Pastry?”

Din glanced over at you but you both seemed just as lost as to how the situation had changed so quickly. He focused back on Greef and scanned over the available treats, pointing hesitantly to a croissant.

“Nothing more exciting than that? We’ve got these peanut butter bars that will change your life.” You hadn’t noticed how boisterous your boss was until this moment–in sharp contrast with Din’s low tones.Giving over to his mysterious friendliness, you stepped back so he could have full run of the counter space.

Din was chuckling again, but this time it was in familiarity. Your curiosity was running wild. “No, it’s okay,” he was saying as the other man boxed up a croissant, “I’ll end up giving some to the kid, he wants everything I’m eating right now.”

Wait, did he say kid?

Din seemed to notice what he’d said right as you did and looked over at you nervously, but Greef was grabbing his attention again.

“How is the little gremlin? Keeping you busy?”

Okay, he definitely said kid.

“You have no idea.” Din was still looking like he’d let something slip that he wasn’t planning on and it was sending your imagination into uncomfortable spirals. The blissful excitement of just a minute ago was being doused by reality and you didn’t even have a chance to talk about it.

Greef was still chattering, too busy making his way back out from behind the counter to notice the slight panic creeping into Din’s eyes. Before either of you could say another word, Din was being ushered out of the door with an arm around his shoulders ‘to catch up’. He quickly grabbed his helmet off of the stool, shooting you a look that felt a lot like an apology before he was gone and you were standing alone in sudden silence.

[lovelybarnes]

dog tags- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: breaking laws and doing crimes, mentions of cracking heads open and murder but it’s humor i swear (at least meant to be) about: PF12 "committing crimes" + DH8 "how dumb can you be?" a/n: reuploaded because posting from my computer is apparently different lol

“we’re going to get caught,” bucky taunts, and you frown, not looking at him as you concentrate on not falling and cracking your head open. “we are not going to get caught,” you respond once you’re on the ground, not sticking the landing and toppling over. cursing, you get up, and bucky shakes his head, jumping over the gate and landing gracefully. you scowl at him and he ignores you, “we’re going to go to jail,” he says negatively. you smack his shoulder in response, which does nothing to his super soldier self but makes you feel better. “we are not going to jail, god-”

bucky’s hand is suddenly over your mouth, muffling your words, and you flail as he practically manhandles you to behind a shrub. he shushes you as a woman walks out of the house, car keys dangling from her fingers as her other hand pulls open her car door, phone shoved between the crook of her neck. she’s muttering angry words into the phone, too distracted to note the build of bucky’s six foot one self and you, pressed up against bucky.

bucky waits until she’s gone for a minute to let you go, and you wipe at your mouth, “when was the last time you washed your hands, that’s disgusti-”

he cuts you off with a frustrated whisper, “you said she’d be gone by now. if it had been just you, you’d be arrested by now!” you shrug, peeking above the leaves before standing fully. bucky pulls you back down again, making you yelp. “ow-”

“shut up, if anything else goes wrong or contradicts your information, i’m leaving,” he promises, and you shrug, rolling your shoulders. “i don’t need your help, anyways. you’re the one who just followed me.”

bucky’s eyes thin, “to make sure you didn’t die- do you know how many times i’ve had to pull you out of some near death situation?”

you shrug, “i was handling it.” bucky breathes in and counts to three, shutting his eyes for a second- a second- and when he opens them, you’re at the house’s front porch, tiptoeing like an idiot into the house and leaving the door open. how the hell are you an avenger?

he huffs angrily as he goes inside the house, thankful for the privacy gate surrounding the house. shutting the door, his eyes nearly pop out of his head. you’re snooping in a cabinet, a huge dog you don’t seem to notice growling at you.

he stops, trying to look at you as loudly as possible. it’s only when you drop a file and he wonders for the eighth time today how he can possibly be in love with you that you notice him. “oh, bucky, you finally came in-”

“there’s a dog,” he cuts you off, trying to calculate his moves so that the drooling thing won’t attack either of you and ruin this idiotic mission you seem to be set on. “really?! i didn’t-” you stop yourself, remembering his past words. “i knew that. i have a plan for that,” you lie. you’re moving your hands, and the dog only seems to get more agitated, and all bucky wants to do is make you stop moving so your arm doesn’t get bitten off, but an actual idea seems to come to you and you turn, crouching down to the dog.

bucky eyes widen as you make the incredibly sudden movement of spinning and he feels like attacking you. in all of your years of being careless have you ever been so stupid. he’s frozen for a second, and he expects to be drawn out by growls and penitent shrieks, not your voice, higher pitched than usual, babbling about good boys. he blinks, startled to see your hands scratching behind the dog’s ears, baby talking to it, “who’s a good boy, huh? protecting the house from evil intruders, you are, yes!” the dog seems to be enjoying your attention, head nuzzling into your hand.

what the fuck.

you hum quietly, ignoring bucky when he pushes you with his foot, and he squints at the dog when it growls the moment he comes in contact with you. “fellow evil intruder, she’s gonna be back at some point. leave the thing alone.”

you glare at him, petting the dog’s head one more time. “brutus is not a thing, bucky. and she’s not going to be back for at least another hour. i made sure emily had her boyfriend wrapped around her finger,” bucky’s eyes narrow, “how do you know she won’t come back?” he tested.

“i told her to casually mention a new hotel opening for when they make up,” you shrug, but stand anyways as his face contorts. “what are we looking for, anyways?” bucky asks as you look in between books and couch cushions, humming distractedly. “don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, buck.”

bucky’s cheeks heat up without his permission, and he shakes it off, following you as you head into another room, the dog trailing after you as well, curious.

“y/n, you kind of need to tell me so i can help you find it,” bucky reminds. you ignore him, throwing random items over your shoulder. he catches all of them amidst his frustration, “how dumb are you?- you’re going to break these and they’ll know we were in here and we’ll-”

“go to jail, yes i know, yada yada yada,” you say distractedly, grumbling as you kick a chair. “i’m going to look in the other room,” you say and take off, leaving a grumpy bucky to organize the objects you’d left him.

bucky still hasn’t finished when you get to the next room, and after a quick scan, you can tell it’ll be your last. you ha, immediately recognizing the safe covered by a hideous painting. you pull it off easily, leaning it carefully against the wall. you count silently while you unlock the safe, laughing in triumph when you beat natasha’s record, and remind yourself to tell her when you get back. rifling around in the safe, you find what you’re looking for quickly, a small smile settling on your face as you tuck it away. your hands are in the safe again, fingers searching for something shiny to throw in sam’s face when bucky bursts in, “they’re here.”

you curse, taking your hands out and beginning to close the safe, bucky shoving you aside to do it himself, much quicker. he’s walking out the door, pausing when he notices you crouching down. “y/n, we have a minute to get out of here.”

you nod, “i know, just-” you hang the painting where it had resided before, standing back to squint at it and straightening it. “there,” you whisper, and then bucky’s pulling you by the hand, eventually throwing you over his shoulder when you decide to give up trying to run with him.

bucky manages to squeeze both of you through the barely open gate without being seen, and he’s huffing when he puts you down. “i thought you had extremely high stamina or something,” you tease, and bucky glares at you. you shrug innocently, grabbing his hand, “c’mon, let’s go home.”

bucky peers at you, “what?”

“we’re going home, i’m tired and hungry. do you think we can stop by mcdonalds or something?” you ask, tugging his hand as you walk in the compound’s direction. “breaking and entering really wears me out.”

“and that’s not even including how stressed you seemed to be,” bucky remarks sarcastically, and you nod, “exactly.” bucky pauses his movements, and you groan, pulling at him. “bucky,” you drag out, but he quiets you. “what was it you needed so badly?” he asks. 

your eyes slant, biting your lip in contemplation. “i’ll tell you if you give me a piggyback ride,” you bribe after a moment, and bucky rolls his eyes but crouches down, back to you. before getting on, you reach into the pouch on your suit, taking out the chain and wrapping it around your fingers delicately. you jump on bucky’s back right after, making sure to be careful with the item in your hand.

bucky’s walking now, and you lean your head on his, drawing letters with your free fingers on bucky’s chest. “so, what is it?” bucky asks, and you trace the tags in your hand with your thumb. “you remember how disappointed you were when you came back and your dog tags had been auctioned off?” you query quietly, and feel bucky nod beneath you. “well, i found out who bought them a month ago and asked them if i could buy it back from them. they said no, because of stupid reasons and called you things that i could’ve murdered them right then and there for-”

bucky can tell what you’re talking about and looks down, “y/n,” he mutters, and you cut yourself off, “right- anyways, so i tracked them down and since they rejected the first offer, i did the obvious thing: break into their house to get it back,” you say like it’s obvious, “it’s not like it’s theirs, anyways.”

“wait, you- you did all this to get my dog tags?” bucky asks, stopping to put you down. you whine, “yes, why’d you put me down-”

bucky’s arms are around you and pulling you to him before you can finish. you’re taken aback before hugging him back, kissing his shoulder. “thank you,” he mumbles, “i’m sorry you didn’t get it back after you went through all that trouble.”

you pull away, “you think i didn’t get it?” you show him your hand, dog tags dangling, “your faith in me is shocking.” bucky grabs the tags, his fingers skimming over the words. “i can’t believe you did this for me.”

“i love you, doll,” bucky replies, pressing a kiss to your lips and remembering this. this is why i’m in love with you.

“of course,” you say softly, “i love you, buck.”

[boldlyvoid]

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.”

[unbridgeabledistances]

hi so @self-absorbed-pretty-boy (💖💖) sent me an AMAZING list of prompts a week ago and while i had truly no time this week to do as much writing as i wanted, here is a 4+1 thing i whipped up between classes that is pure husband fluff— i hope u all enjoy<3

prompt: the first time mickey calls ian his husband in front of a stranger (could be a cashier, a pharmacist, a cop, some weed buying college kids, you decide)

--

The first time that Mickey did it, he didn’t even really realize it— it was a slow Tuesday morning, just after their “honeymoon,” when he woke to the abrasive, slanted sunlight streaming in through the blinds. He immediately noticed that the house was silent, surprisingly quiet from any of the classic Gallagher clamor that usually bounced through the thin walls in the mornings, especially these days with Franny and Liam in their final weeks of the school year—and the absence of noise made Mickey curious enough to rub his eyes and open them, finally pulling himself out from the last warm dregs of sleep.

Ian’s arms were wrapped around him, a comforting spoon bear-hugging him in close, and Mickey took a moment just to take in the sensation of the solid, sleeping weight of him— he could feel the rise and fall of Ian’s ribcage pressed against his back and the soft fabric of the t-shirt that clung to Ian’s chest, the only barrier between him and Ian’s pink, sleep-warmed skin. Mickey rustled in Ian’s arms, reaching for his phone on the bedside table; and no wonder there were no cabinets slamming or lunches being packed or Debbie screaming that they had to get out the door— it was nearly noon for some fucking reason, and he and Ian were still sleeping like babies.

Which, okay, maybe that had to do with the fact that last night involved lots of tugs of hair and searing kisses and bodies pressed together until late into the night— Mickey felt his lips tick upward at the memory of it. But still— ever since returning a few days ago from their honeymoon in the dingy motel with the musty satin sheets, they had both been tired; the last few months had been compounded by a release from prison, a murdered P.O., the engagement shitshow, and a wedding to top it all off, and each incident had pushed a sense of normalcy more and more off-kilter, until finally they both just had to crash.

There was no mistaking that this was harder, more draining, for Ian; he was trying to sink back into a routine existence in the Gallagher house after all of the events of the past few months, and it was clear that he was still reeling from the shift— Mickey could see it now, in the way that Ian was so deeply sleeping well past noon, a dead weight pressed close against him.

Mickey scooted himself up to a seated position on the bed, letting Ian’s arm limply fall off of him and cascade onto the bedsheets with a muted thud—and again, he let himself take a moment to just look at Ian, his mouth parted and breathing steadily, the light coming in through the blinds illuminating the constellations of freckles smattered across his face and cheekbones, threads of sunlight weaving between the strands of bright, rusty hair on the top of his head that were partly splayed onto the pillow. Since getting home Ian had been slicking his hair back less now, and letting it grow wiry and wild and curled—Mickey fucking loved it, and he couldn’t resist reaching a gentle hand out to brush Ian’s hair back from his forehead, feeling its mossy give. He took it all in; the tides of Ian’s even breathing, his fully relaxed face, and the blossoming blue rings of exhaustion that were still there under his eyes, even in his sleep; and Mickey felt a swell of gratefulness that Ian was still sleeping soundly, that he could sleep all fucking day if he needed to, at least for now while they were just getting back and settling into a rhythm—if Ian deserved anything, he deserved to recharge.

Mickey silently sat beside him, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone and every so often running a hand through Ian’s hair—because, fuck it, his husband was sleeping next to him, soft and warm, and something about touching Ian always grounded him. He was leaning propped on a pillow he’d shoved between his back and the wall, and was just beginning to contemplate putting on the tattered robe he’d found in one of the stray bedroom drawers and dragging himself downstairs to make some coffee when he heard a buzz from Ian’s phone on the nightstand, and saw the screen flash with a silent alarm:

“PICK UP MEDS”

So ultimately that was the reason why Mickey forced himself to crawl out of bed that morning— or afternoon was more accurate— and detached himself from the cocoon of his husband’s warmth to go for what was usually Ian’s own Tuesday morning walk every month before his shitty shifts with Paula to go over to the pharmacy and get his meds. He bounded down the front steps of the Gallagher house, turning the corner to walk down a few blocks to where the sagging houses turned to the brick storefronts and neon signs of the few ramshackle businesses that were left on the Southside. Since getting back a few days ago, he and Ian had barely done anything except lounge around the house with everyone, settling in— and now Mickey realized how long it had been since he’d gone for a walk outside, breathing in the not-so-fresh Chicago air that smelled of gas exhaust and cigarette smoke, but also of something earthen and familiar. Sunbeams were radiating off of the sidewalk, and the air was cool, like the late spring weather had finally just broken into something crisp and clear— Mickey let his feet carry him over the pavement past the dingy corner store with the faded sign hanging crooked above the awning, and then two more doors down to the business with the glowing red and white sign that read “SAVE RITE PHARMACY.”

Mickey entered the pharmacy, hearing the tinkle of a bell as he pushed through the glass door.

There was no one really in the store on a Tuesday afternoon— his eyes adjusted to the waves of artificial light bouncing off the white shelves that contrasted with the soft glow outside. Mickey made his way through the aisles to the pharmacy counter at the back of the store, and was met with a middle aged woman in a lab coat typing on a computer.

“Hey. I’m, uh, pickin’ up for Gallagher.” Mickey slid his ID over the linoleum counter, quickly doing a double-take to make sure that this was a real ID and not one of his fake ones; not that it would really matter anyways, no one was getting high off of whatever shit Ian was taking on the daily.

The woman glanced at Mickey’s ID over the rim of her classes, then clicked the mouse a couple of times.

“Gallagher. Just one moment.”

She turned and filed through a few organized-looking bins, and retrieved a crinkly white paper bag and placed it on the countertop. Mickey stood there in silence, listening to the heavy thud of keys typing on the desktop computer.

“And who are you in relation to Mr. Gallagher?”

Mickey opened his mouth—and for just a millisecond, he let himself pause. Usually he just said “partner,” or sometimes “family” when the situation required him to be vague—but in this moment, he had a flashing realization. They were married—and today he got to drop that word, and all the weight of it, into the empty aisles of the drugstore on a Tuesday afternoon. Mickey cleared his throat.

“S’my husband.”

Mickey couldn’t help it—there was some weird, warm, giddy rush in his chest as he said it. It wasn’t natural yet, and he almost fumbled over the word as it fell out of his mouth, like a kid trying to swear for the first time— but he said it. And the pharmacist barely flinched—which, thank fuck for that, after the whole geriatric florist incident a few months ago. She just gave him a curt nod, a half-smile, and she handed Mickey the paper bag and a printed receipt and sent him on his way.

And so what if Mickey stopped at the grimy corner store on the way home and bought a pack of cigarettes for himself and a fucking Kind bar for Ian, because he knew he liked that shit— and so what if there was a little extra bounce in his step as he walked back from the store, his arms swinging by his sides in the cool, early summer breeze as his feet hit the sunwarmed pavement and he headed home to his husband who was curled up in the warm safety of their bed, sound asleep.

His husband.

**

The second time it also just sort of… tumbled out of Mickey’s mouth, a little more naturally this time. It was a day or two later, and he and Ian had finally rejoined the land of the living— and to Debbie, that meant that the two of them were now available to be drafted into a circuit of random chores and errands with lists of shit to pick up, tasks that Ian tried to squeeze in between shifts at his new warehouse job and that Mickey mostly just ignored. But much to Mickey’s dismay, there was no getting out of their assignment this afternoon; Debbie had some hotshot welding gig on the Northside and Frank was nowhere to be fucking found, and Liam needed a parent or guardian to come to his parent-teacher conference at the end of the school year. Liam had softly voiced this information in the swirling hurricane of conversation at dinner the evening before, and Ian couldn’t resist saying that he and Mickey would go, even though Mickey had repeatedly kicked his shins hard under the kitchen table and passed him a series of dagger-like glares. Mickey didn’t realize why Ian had volunteered the both of them to go to this shit— it was Ian’s brother, not his— but after lots of long glances and fucking puppy-dog eyes and some very intense manipulation the night before, when Ian whispered into the crook of Mickey’s neck at a very inconvenient time and said with a mischievous smile “C’mon Mick, I don’t want to go alone”—well, let’s just say that was how Mickey ended up weaving through the sweltering, barren hallways of Liam’s public school on some random muggy summer afternoon with Ian, trying to find Liam’s teacher’s classroom.

As much as Mickey did not want to be here right now, in the paint-chipped locker-lined halls of the public school that mostly just brought up a lot of angsty memories of dirt under his fingernails and cardboard signs written with sharpies and pasted up with duct tape, the whole thing also felt vaguely nostalgic— like those days before everything went to shit and he’d gotten married to Svet, just after he’d busted the fuck out of juvie and was trying with all of his might to force down all the tidal waves of feelings he had about gangly fucking teenage Gallagher with his crew cut and his camo pants—and walking through the halls next to Ian, feeling his tangible presence beside him, was enough to keep Mickey’s mind from veering into other darker places about his own wasted potential.  

“Where the fuck is this room, anyways?” Mickey huffed out. All the rows of lockers looked the fucking same, and all Mickey wanted to do right now was go home and lay back on the couch and sip a cold beer, instead of standing in this stuffy hallway with sweat dripping down his neck.

Ian playfully elbowed Mickey between his ribs. “We’re in Liam’s school, Mick. You’re not supposed to say ‘fuck.’”

“Fuck you.” He flipped Ian off for good measure.

Ian halted in front of a closed classroom door, glancing down at the slightly crumpled piece of paper that Liam had written his class number on.

“I think this is it.” Ian softly rapped his knuckles on the classroom door, and a young woman in a pencil skirt appeared to open it.

“Hi, lovely to meet you both. You must be Liam’s dads?”

Mickey spluttered out a laugh, a surprised noise catching in his throat. His first feeling was a flicker of annoyance at this random lady, that always popped up anytime someone so immediately knew he was gay, which probably had to do with some deeply internalized shit— but his second feeling was a warm sort of astonishment. Liam’s dads?

He and Ian could be someone’s fucking parents someday. Fuck.

Ian’s cheeks had turned slightly pink, like he was equally as affected by the assumption— so Mickey spoke up, trying not to sound like his insides were squirming as much as they were.

“Nah, man, you got it all wrong. I mean— not totally wrong, he is my husband. But we’re not his dads.”

Ian’s ears nearly perked up when he heard the word— this was the first time they’d called each other husbands so casually out in the world, while they were both in each other’s presence. A crooked smile crept onto Ian’s face, and he tentatively reached out to ensnare Mickey’s fingers in his.

“Yup. Husbands.”

Liam’s teacher just looked at them, raising her eyebrows expectantly, like she was slightly confused.

“Alright. So, who are you to Liam, then?”

Ian let out a quick breath of a laugh. “Oh, right. I’m Liam’s brother.”

And as Ian led him by the wrist to sit beside him in a fucking uncomfortable plastic chair meant for ten-year-olds, chattering away with Liam’s teacher, all Mickey could think about was the blood rushing hot, hotter than usual between his ears.

He didn’t know if he’d ever get tired of calling Ian his husband.

**

Mickey had never given much thought to pet names, or any sort of frilly bullshit like that, with Ian—every time that he called Ian something that wasn’t just “Ian” or “Gallagher,” it was some punchy and witty nickname that he’d concocted in the moment in an attempt to make a smile burst onto Ian’s face, with “sugar-tits” and “babyface” being his personal all-time favorites; but never any of that sappy bullshit that other couples called each other, like “babe” or “honey” or other garbage.

But, fuck. Fuck if Mickey didn’t love the fact that he could call Ian his “husband” now, that he was allowed to just do that, whenever anyone was in earshot.

It was a late night at the Alibi, the first time that most of the Gallaghers had been out of the house since the pandemic started; the mayor had finally loosened some restrictions, and Kev had sent a text to the Gallagher family group chat with way too many cork-popping emojis telling everyone to come by the Alibi after their respective evening shifts—and when he and Ian had walked through the door nearly half of the neighborhood was there, including Sandy and Debbie, and a bunch of random Southsiders that most of them hadn’t seen for weeks or months.

Kev had immediately handed Mickey a foamy beer as he walked through the door, and readily poured Ian a shot of Jameson—and now the room was pressed tight with bodies, full of random-ass neighbors puffing on cigarettes and some music playing low, the air hanging heavy with the fog of secondhand smoke and boisterous conversation. At one point, after taking one too many sips of something, Sandy had convinced Kev to give her control of the aux cord—and now the music turned more upbeat, and some of the younger people in the room had started dancing, which obviously caused his over-enthusiastic husband to grab Mickey’s wrist from where he was seated at the bar and pull him into the crowd. And maybe it was just the fact that Mickey hadn’t been around so many people for so long, or maybe it was the fact that he could see that Ian was having a good time, his cheeks flushed and glowing in the dim lights— or maybe it was just that he’d had one or two more beers than usual, if he was being totally honest, but Mickey was feeling happy and light, feeling a buzzing in his veins.

And now they were dancing, and Mickey was just kind of shuffling side-to-side and probably looked ridiculous but he didn’t really care, and the room was getting hazier with smoke, and he could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks and the bass of the speakers thrumming in his chest and the rising tide of his pulse and he felt alive, alive—

And Ian’s body was pressed next to his, doing that stupid fucking dance move he always did where he just kind of bopped up and down with his hands raised above his head with the energy of a golden retriever— and Mickey couldn’t fucking help but lean in, pressing his lips close to meet the shell of Ian’s ear; and yes, they’d been married for a couple of months now, but he couldn’t help the airy feeling rising up, bubbling up in his stomach from the heat of the flames licking at his insides that made him whisper:

“We’re fucking husbands.”

Mickey knew Ian could feel his hot breath in his ear, could smell the whiskey on his lips—and Ian’s eyes lit up, his mouth splitting open in a tipsy grin.

Ian hummed and tilted Mickey’s chin up and pressed their lips together— there was light dancing in his eyes, and Mickey loved him, and he was his husband.

“Yeah. Husbands.” Ian murmured the words against Mickey’s mouth under the music, into the air between their lips.

“Fuck.”

And in that moment, Mickey realized that he’d never really known happiness before, not really— because nothing could fucking compare to the feeling of having his hands wrapped tight around his husband’s warm hips, while Ian’s arms were slung over his shoulders and Mickey could burrow his face into the sweet skin at the crook of Ian’s neck…

And yeah, maybe Mickey could get into the idea of calling Ian his husband a lot more often.

**

It was the evening on some run-of-the-mill weeknight after their security runs, and they were at that fancy hotel gym they’d gotten a trial membership of weeks before— Ian had loved the fancy weight machines and the steamed towels so much (and let’s face it, Mickey had also definitely enjoyed the fact that he could check guys out in the steam room) that Mickey had used some cash he had on hand (of questionable origin, which just made Ian frustratedly roll his eyes) to get them both a membership at the place for a month— and Mickey had to be honest, working out under mood lighting and mirrored walls with a bunch of chiseled gay dudes beat hauling kegs around the musty back room of the Alibi any day.

So now, they made a habit of stopping by the gym after work, typically parting ways after stripping off their camo by the lockers to go do their own thing in the weight room. At the current moment, Mickey was standing off to the side of the open floor plan, leaning against a weight rack and curling a 40 pound dumbbell into his bicep— but more accurately what he was doing was drooling over his husband, who was across the room with his tank top sticking to his skin, energetically hitting a static punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Mickey let his eyes bore holes into Ian from across the room, watching the sweat gleam on Ian’s body, watching his muscles ripple—and fuck, he was married to a fucking Greek god, like those fucking sculptures he saw in textbooks at school that made his blood run hot when he stared too hard, wasn’t he?

Mickey was so fixated on watching Ian that he barely noticed when his upper arm started to burn, and he realized that he’d forgotten to keep track of how many times he’d curled upward. Fuck it. Mickey bent down to place the weight back on the rack—and that was when he noticed another guy, some scrawny, slender dude wearing a neon-green tank top and with fucking hot pink sweatbands on his wrists, who had his eyes locked in on Ian from across the room almost intently as Mickey did.

Tank Top noticed Mickey staring at him and sheepishly smiled, putting a hand on his hip—and then in the spirit of light gym-time chatter, something Mickey was definitely not interested in entertaining, the dude opened his mouth.

“You think he’s gay?”

The old Mickey, Mickey from a few years ago, would’ve pummeled this guy’s sorry ass for even looking at Ian the wrong way, and even Mickey from a few months ago would’ve felt some sort of anxious panic or jealous fear that someone other than him desired Ian— but today there was a heavy band of silver pressing into Mickey’s finger, and he could feel the solid weight of it. So Mickey just raised his eyebrows, and gave a passive reply as he placed his dumbbell down and strolled past Tank Top Dude to walk across the room towards Ian:

“He’s my husband, asswipe.”

**

It was late— all there was in the empty room was a half-deflated air mattress, sinking under their weight. The streetlight beamed in through the paper-thin curtains— they would definitely have to invest in a better pair to block out the light, but that was an issue for tomorrow.

Right now Mickey and Ian were just sprawling out on the mattress, letting themselves sink into it—their few boxes of belongings were stacked along the wall, the papers had been signed, and now they could let themselves breathe.

Ian cradled the back of Mickey’s head in his hands, giving him a quick peck just above his eyebrow. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

Mickey breathed out a low chuckle. “Yeah, man, me too.”

Ian rustled, turning onto his side on the wobbly mattress to face Mickey fully. “‘Man?’ You’re my fucking husband. I think we can do better than that.”

Mickey smirked, leaning in close to hover over him. “Whatever you say, husband.”

[itcantbe]

Zelink Week Day 6

We're nearly to the end of @zelinkweek2021! Today's prompt is "abnormality: malice/timeline alteration." I focused on the timeline alteration (in a roundabout way), though I suppose malice is in there a bit as well. The last two days of Zelink Week 2021 will be the last two chapters of "Under the Boardwalk." I've been so thrilled with how much excitement I've seen for this story and the great comments everyone has left here and on ao3. I appreciate it a lot! Today's chapter takes place during the events of chapter 2. It's a bit of a short one, but I promise I make it up to you in the final chapter.

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Read on ao3

Under the Boardwalk: Down By The Sea

The past few weeks had been wonderful. And weird. And horrible. And frustrating.

After that first night, when their “date” had gone so horribly wrong, after Link had figured her out, after she had broken his heart, they had reached a sort of understanding. He answered any question she might have about park operations, Ganondorf, what went on in the castle. He helped her sneak around the park at night after it closed a few times: photographing broken rides, missing caution signs, and anything else she thought might be useful. Her pictures had gotten much better once she didn’t have to hide what she was doing.

And, since he didn’t have a car, she’d take him home. Or they’d grab a bite to eat together, and she’d pay because she was thanking him for his help. It wasn’t a date.

But they talked, since sitting in awkward silence was unpleasant even if Link did hate her. If he did hate her, that was fine, since she hated herself for lying to him. For still lying to him. Their conversation had been stilted at first, the specter of her deception hanging between them like a dark, heavy curtain. But over the course of a few weeks, it settled into something comfortable, something easy. Her lie still hovered in the back of their every interaction, but it became less noticeable as the days passed. At first they only talked about her investigation, and made plans on how to gather more information. But soon they started to talk about more, and started sharing about their lives.

They talked about school. She talked about how it had been hard to prove herself in journalism school since she was the daughter of the editor in chief of the Hyrule Star Fragment. How she didn’t want to coast on name recognition, but despite how hard she had worked, no one took her seriously. He talked about how hard school had been. How he had been trying so hard to juggle school and work that he ended up failing at both, quietly admitting to her one night that he had gotten fired from his job and dropped out of school. How he still wasn’t sleeping well because the anxiety and stress of it all kept his mind spinning, even now.

“I guess I’m glad the park didn’t seem to care when they hired me.”

“How do you mean?”

Link shrugged, swiping a french fry through the mess of ketchup on his plate before popping it in his mouth. Zelda watched each movement and may have stared at his lips for a few moments longer than necessary. He had such a nice mouth, with full lips that she briefly imagined pressed to her own. He finished chewing and swallowed, and her imagination followed, her lips traveling from his mouth, across the line of his chin and down his throat, and then down, down, down … A blush rose to her cheeks when she realized she was ogling him like a drooling creep. Instead she pulled her gaze up to meet his eyes. His beautiful eyes, such an unusual shade of blue, that she could easily lose herself in all day.

Thankfully Link continued to talk, pulling her out of her increasingly lascivious thoughts.

“Yeah, they hired me on the spot. Barely asked any questions, just told me when to come in and who to report to.”

“Wow, that’s …”

“Lucky, right? And I get paid right away, they just give me an envelope of cash at the end of the week.”

“Wait, what? Did you fill out any forms, leave any references, anything?”

He shrugged again, hitching one shoulder up before dropping it down again. Zelda thought about sitting in his lap, running her fingers over that shoulder and down his back. Digging her nails into that shoulder as he … Goddess, what is WRONG with you? she asked herself.

“No, just left them my name and phone number.”

“No tax forms? They don’t take anything out of your wages for taxes? Link, that’s illegal! That’s tax fraud!”

She hauled out her notebook and wrote down what he’d told her, as well as some questions to ask.

Look into Gdorf tax records Research Hrl/C-Town employment law Proof of tax fraud????

“So this helps? You can use this for your story?”

Zelda looked up from her notes, the hopeful look on his face going right to her heart.

“Oh, this is the best angle yet! It could be difficult to pin Ganondorf on these other issues, but if anything would get him shut down and investigated, it’s tax fraud!”

Link’s face lit up at her words, as if she’d handed him a gift of the thing he wanted most in the world. She wanted to shove the table aside, tackle him to the floor and kiss him all over.

“I’ll need to visit the municipal tax records office tomorrow. I could use your help … if you’re not busy. I’ll make it worth your while!”

He looked at her a moment, as if considering his answer. She kept her eyes on her notes, trying to look as if his response either way didn’t matter to her. Making it worth his while meant buying him food. The boy loved to eat, attacking his food with relish, delighting in every bite he took, in a manner that always sent her imagination spiraling off into heated territory. Zelda wished making it “worth his while” meant burying his head between her thighs and digging her fingers into his hair as she moaned his name. She shoved the image aside before she could go much further and squirmed in her chair uncomfortably. She needed to get home before she did something she regretted and drove him off for good.

Lunch. She would buy him lunch.

“Uh … yeah, I’m free tomorrow. I can help you.”

She gave him a brilliant smile, relieved that he wanted to help, that he was willing to spend more time with her. Zelda greedily concocted reasons to spend time with him, claiming she needed his help, that she couldn’t do any of it without him. Which was true, despite her desire to shoulder it all on her own so she could prove herself. His help made it all so much easier, so much more pleasant. Almost fun.

And she could revel in the occasional shy smile Link gave her before he remembered that he was still upset with her, in the heat and electricity that seemed to shoot between them every time they accidentally brushed together. The way he helped her organize her notes. The way he suggested new places to look for information, or new angles to approach the story. The way she could pretend they had something more than a working relationship, that she might have a chance to enact some of the fantasies she seemed to almost drown in whenever they were together. The way she could pretend she hadn’t treated him like crap from the beginning, hadn’t lied and led him on.

Then maybe they could have dated for real. Maybe she could have kissed him in every way she had thought of in the past few weeks. Maybe she could have had something meaningful with him. Or maybe she could have done the work herself, being honest and approaching him as a source and nothing more. Maybe then he wouldn’t have gotten as involved as he did. Maybe then she wouldn’t be watching Ganondorf dangle him by the throat over the mouth of the most dangerous slide ever built, Link’s legs and arms held together by zip ties so that he couldn’t do anything to help himself. Maybe then Link wouldn’t die because of her.

Zelda had planned to take Link somewhere a little nicer after they broke into Ganondorf’s office, to dig through the file cabinets and desk drawers. She had planned to tell him her true feelings. Maybe he would have forgiven her, and they could start over. Maybe she could have held his hand again. Maybe they could have been anywhere but here.

Zelda screamed as Ganondorf let Link go and he disappeared into the black depths of the slide. Nothing mattered any more except Link; not her reputation, not her story, not shutting down the park. Only making sure Link was okay, that he lived, that he didn’t regret the day they’d met, and every minute he’d spent with her after that.

She didn’t take time to think, or try to escape her bonds, or to call for help. She just acted, adrenaline surging through her as she counted every minute that passed as one less minute of Link’s survival. All she did was note how close Ganondorf was himself to the entrance to the slide, and how all it would take one good shove to send him down.

And she attacked.

[genesisrose74]

A/n: This idea just popped into my head this morning and I needed to write it out, guess who finished in one day instead of focusing on summer school aha ha...so here’s the next edition of Class 1-A quarantine hc’s! I think I’ll include a bit of background for all of these, just for future reference if anyone likes them lmao. Today we have everyone’s favorite nitroglycerin king, Bakugo Katsuki! Hope y’all enjoy cause I’m honestly so soft for this one okay BYE-

Surprisingly, you’re initially part of the Dekusquad, but you’ve always been close with Kirishima and Mina and feel comfortable hanging out with their group as well so you start gravitating to the Bakusquad 

At first, Bakugo is really standoffish because, “You’re seriously friends with that damn nerd Deku” - wow everyone be hating on our cinnamon roll smh

But then he sees how much the rest of Bakusquad likes you and he starts warming up

It starts with small little things like not hogging all the space on the couches in the dorms and having you sit beside him

Then he notices that you’re very forgetful of your jacket and he ends up keeping a spare in his bag just in case the weather gets really bad

“I mistakenly grabbed two this morning, so lighten my load and carry the jacket—I don’t give a shit if you put it on, just hold it will you!” 

He’s acts all aggressive whenever he tries to be subtle and someone calls him out on it pffft- 

“What the hell are you talking about? You trying to get punched in the face?”

And his feelings are emphasized when the whole class is allowed to use the pool one afternoon and you’re pulling up with Mina and Momo

You’ve got a cute swimsuit and a sun hat on, and King Explosion Murder starts sweating a dangerous amount of nitroglycerin 

Bakugo Katsuki has a thing for soft girls who can pull a one-eighty and kick ass no I do not take criticism

The class wants to play chicken and everyone is choosing partners, but in the corner of his eye Bakugo sees you getting cornered by Mineta 

You’re usually able to handle the horny tornado but you’re feeling a bit too exposed in a bathing suit and start losing your cool

When I tell you the whole Bakusquad BOLTS to come rescue you-

Mineta is literally launched out of the pool by Sero like a rocket ship in orbit and the rest of the group is in this protective barrier formation around you (yes the squad has protocols for this kind of thing don’t even deny it)

Bakugo is beside you in a second with his hands secured on your waist because no one is coming near you like that when he’s around

“Why don’t you be my partner, yeah?”

And that's the story of how y’all destroyed everyone at chicken with absolutely no mercy and Bakugo finds your competitiveness that entire day attractive as hell

Walking back to the dorms afterwards, he pulls you away from the group and the look he gives you is  s e a r i n g

“For the love of God, go out with me” and he does not have to tell you twice

Literally the entire class is SHOOK because you’re actually pretty mellow and Mr. My Only Vocabulary Word Is Die is...ya know...✨volatile✨

But let’s be honest he’s actually a softie if you’re close enough to him (sorry Deku you’re the exception but we still luv u) and everyone ends up adoring y’all being together

When quarantine rolls around and you both have to live back at your respective houses, everything is decently calm for about two days and then you both start getting bored as hell

Honestly longer than you expected 

Bakugo hates social distancing with a passion but he agrees to abide by the rules and ends up asking you to Facetime at least twice a day

His bedroom is actually very tidy ‘cause Bakugo hates clutter, especially when he’s doing schoolwork

I wholeheartedly believe that Bakugo is a beast in the kitchen and y’all can fight me about it because his knife skills are canon and you best believe he learned it to be more independent 

He’s been experimenting with new cooking recipes and is a master at making something out of practically nothing in his fridge, which is really handy when a trip to the grocery store is long overdue

He sends you pictures of his dishes and your responses are all praise and none of it’s exaggerated either; this boy can COOK 

Netflix Parties with the Bakusquad — the chat gets loaded with Denki and Kiri spamming and Bakugo yelling at them in all caps to shut up

Your lock screen is a picture of the group on Facetime and you all have filters on (somehow you got Bakugo to use one don’t ask how); literal friendship goals

And then it’s been about a whole month since quarantine started and Bakugo wants to come visit you, but his mom shuts that down quicker than Barry Allen in the Speed Force

He’s pissed because he and his family feel perfectly healthy but his mother will not let him leave under any circumstances

So when his parents go to visit some relatives who were more susceptible to the virus and needed help with a couple basic tasks you decide to sneak out to see him (in good health of course)

Imagine his surprise when his typically rule-following girlfriend calls and is already standing in his backyard, bags of groceries in your possession

***

Bakugo shot you an incredulous look as you sat at the kitchen table. “You know I could have just opened the front door for you.”

“Yeah, but going through the window was way more fun,” you defended. “It’s not like I’m very rebellious at any other time, so might as well live it up while I have the courage.”

The blond snorted, sifting through the numerous bags you brought along to his house. They were filled with an assortment of foods: vegetables, meat, rice, sauces and the like. 

“What’s all this for?” he inquired, pulling out a bottle of teriyaki sauce.

You couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face as your boyfriend curiously examined the items. “It’s for you to cook with, duh.”

“And how am I supposed to explain the new abundance of food in the fridge to my parents?”

“Say that I had it sent over through Postmates or something. Even I thought of that, Katsuki.”

He rolled his eyes as he placed down the last bag of items. “I can’t believe you snuck out and brought all this stuff,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. “Thank you, babe.”

A faint blush rises to your cheeks, despite the fact you’ve been dating the first year student for a few months now. Girlfriend or not, verbal thanks from the King Explosion Murder was rare. “You’re welcome.”

Bakugo turned to the stove and started organizing a number of ingredients on the counter beside it, pulling out kitchenware from cabinets as he went.

“Since you’re here and all, I suppose I could make your dumb ass something,” he remarked. 

Your eyes practically sparkled with excitement at the offer; you were hoping the blond would make you one of his iconic dishes eventually. A ghost of a grin was present on Bakugo’s face at the cheer that left your mouth, his back facing you as he got started. 

You were quick to situate yourself on top of the kitchen counter, Bakugo lifting you by the waist to place you farther away from the flaming stove but still allowing you to watch as he worked. His knife skills were almost scary when chopping up the vegetables, the pace at which he was cutting them astonishing you, and the overall aroma of the space had your mouth watering before he was even close to finishing the meal.

“I feel like a judge on Master Chef,” you giggled, and the boy shook his head at the comment as he eyed a timer he had set for the pork he put on the stove. 

“I’m pretty sure my girlfriend of a judge would be a bit biased over the contestants,” he pointed out. 

You hummed thoughtfully. “I mean, if he keeps looking this attractive while making food I think my bias is justified.”

He glanced at you perched on the counter top, and took a few steps in your direction, cupping your cheek in one hand to kiss you quickly. 

“You’re distracting me,” the first year mumbled, running a thumb over your jaw. “Quit being so cute, dummy.”

You saluted playfully. “Yes, chef.”

He let out a soft laugh before moving back to silence the timer that had started beeping, alerting him that the pork on the stove was ready to go. The blond shooed you away and had you sit at the dining table as he took the skillet and turned off the stove flames.

As you waited patiently for Bakugo to finish up, you sang under your breath and set two spots at the table directly across from each other. By the time he was done, two plates of steaming food in hand, you were already sitting down and twirling a fork between your fingers. 

“What did you end up making?” You asked as he set a plate of rice and pork in front of you. 

“Tonkatsu,” he replied nonchalantly. 

It smelled like absolute heaven, and your hunger was only emphasized in the midst of the fast food you had been surviving off of during quarantine. This boy was even good at presentation, and you began to wonder if he was just talented at everything he tried.

Bakugo took the spot across from you and watched as you took the first bite. He wouldn’t admit it, but he felt a bit nervous that you wouldn’t like what he made. But that thought dissipated as quickly as it came once your fork flew into the meal for a second time, and you shot him a wide-eyed look.

“So good!” you exclaimed with a stuffed face, a few grains of rice falling from your mouth and back onto the plate.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full or you’ll choke, stupid,” he reprimanded, but your praise had an evident effect on the male as a smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I expect gourmet lunches from you at least once a week when school starts again.” 

“Not a chance in hell that I’m doing extra work in the mornings.”

“I’ll buy you all the ingredients you want~” 

“...I’ll think about it.”

Next thing you knew, all the food on your plate was gone, gladly relocated to your stomach. Rounding the table, you wrapped your arms around Bakugo’s shoulders as he also finished eating. 

“Thank you for dinner, Katsuki,” you hummed contentedly, resting your chin on his head. “It was seriously masterclass, especially after all the takeout I’ve been eating.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” he waved it off. “I think a movie of my choosing is in order.”

“After we clean up, hot shot. Your mom would kill you if she realized someone was over.”

“Why wouldn’t she kill you too?”

“Please. Your mom loves me.”

The blond barked out a laugh before standing up and holding your waist, ushering you back to the kitchen. “True.”

Cleaning up was quick and easy with the both of you working together, stocking away dishes and remaining groceries. The evening sky, visible through a large window in the living room, glittered with stars as you sidled next to your boyfriend on the couch, the kitchen and dining room returned to its normal prestige.

“Katsuki?” you murmured, voice laced with a touch of contented sleepiness.

He turned his head from the television screen to face you. “Hm?” 

“I missed you, silly.” 

An arm was thrown around your shoulder and you were pulled closer to the male, who gently kissed your temple. 

“I missed you too, dummy.”

[nomolosk]

“I hope all the documents are in order,” Adrien Agreste said, looking and sounding smug over the transmission. His ship was currently en route to the Francoise Space Station orbiting the planet Dupont, where the Dupain-Cheng’s had based their surface-to-orbit shipping business. Marinette Dupain-Cheng didn’t bother trying to suppress her glare. He should be well aware of the reasons for her frustration, but she reminded him anyway.

“Yes, Mr. Agreste Junior, the documents are in order,” she replied. “They have been waiting for your signature for the past month. A month in which, I might add, we haven’t been able to do any business at all.”

“My apologies for the delay,” Adrien said - but neither tone nor expression changed an iota.

By all the gods in the heavens, Marinette loathed this man. She couldn’t imagine any future in which she didn’t, especially given the reason for his visit today. He was going to buy out her parents’ business, and Marinette only had to deal with him because she’d refused to make her parents deal with him after everything else they had gone through. Unfortunately, this had only confirmed his awful reputation.

When it came to systematically ruining and then buying out competitors, Adrien Agreste - the scion of Agreste Shipping - was a one-man juggernaut, apparently all too eager to do a few dirty deeds in order to keep his otherwise indulgent lifestyle. By all reports he was a true Daddy’s boy, playing with money, power, and hearts as if he had no concept of personal responsibility. After all, Daddy Agreste would take care of any... unpleasantness. And all he had to do was be dear Daddy’s hatchet-man. It looked like he enjoyed it, too.

Fortunately, she had the means to wipe that self-satisfied look off his face permanently, thanks to a mole who called himself Chat Noir. He’d been feeding her inside information for over a year - information that had let her and the crew of the Miraculous put quite a dent in the Agreste Shipping bottom line. But for now, she had to play along.

“Just make sure you’re on time,” Marinette said through gritted teeth. “You’ve tortured my family enough. No need to drag it out any longer.”

“I’ll be only too happy to accommodate your schedule, Ms. Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien said. “And perhaps, afterward, you will let me buy you a drink to... commemorate the occasion.”

A smirk - an actual, god-forsaken smirk - appeared on his face. Marinette’s fingernails dug painfully into her palms. If he’d been within reach at that moment, he would have found himself flat on the floor with several broken bones, and Marinette would have found herself in a holding cell on charges of assault. Breathing deeply, Marinette reminded herself of the plan, and terminated the transmission before she could incriminate herself.

As soon as Adrien Agreste’s smug, smarmy, and infuriatingly handsome face disappeared from her screen, she closed her eyes and breathed, letting out all the tension and anger that had built up during their brief conversation. After all, under the right circumstances, Adrien Agreste might be exactly what her parents, and countless other victims, needed: a valuable hostage.

----

Adrien let that god-awful smirk linger for a moment before wiping it away with a weary hand. He slumped back in his seat and started massaging one temple while he swiped back to his desktop screen on the terminal.

He’d always hated this part, even back when he'd been naive enough to believe that the firm he was about to buy out had just had a run of bad luck. Back then he would have been secure in the knowledge that the ‘merger’ he’d ‘negotiated’ was a good deal for both parties, but he’d still been aware that it was a defeat for the original owners.

Now he knew all too well the depths Gabriel would sink to - the depths he would drag Adrien down to - all for the sake of his precious shipping empire. The clear disgust and loathing on that woman’s face only added to his own sense of personal guilt and disgust.

At least this time, if everything went according to plan, this family’s business would be just fine. This time, Adrien could look forward to handing control of that company back to the people who’d built it. He glanced at the time on the terminal and took a deep, calming breath.

Please, Ladybug… don’t let me down.

Adrien, in his persona as the mole Chat Noir, had given Ladybug and her team of raiders especially good intel this time, all but painting the word TARGET in bold letters on his own face. That, plus the file he’d sent containing a preview of every last blot on his father’s stainless reputation… yes. He knew how much Ladybug loathed Adrien Agreste personally. She’d often claimed a burning need to punch his face in their double-encoded communiques - not that she knew it was his face - so he was sure she would jump at the chance. He only hoped she could pull it off.

The raiding crew of the Miraculous had caused enough disruption to the Agreste Shipping lines that Gabriel had actually hired the Akumas - a mercenary group known for their brutal efficiency - to track her down. Chat Noir had warned her, and so far she’d managed to elude their crack agents, making them look remarkably foolish in the process.

He only hoped that, when the time came and he found himself on board the Miraculous at last, that she would leave him enough wits - and teeth - to stutter out the recognition phrase Chat Noir had given her.

----

Ladybug’s assault and infiltration were quieter than Adrien had expected. He wasn’t part of the Hawkmoth’s crew, so when the alarms went off, his only role was to get to a secure area and stay out of everyone else’s way. The most he heard of it was the alarm and muffled shouting in the distance while Nathalie hurried him away.

It wasn’t what he wanted - he would much rather have had an active role in the ship’s defense. But of course Gabriel would never allow that, and Nathalie enforced his rules with an iron fist. So he ended up crouched behind Nathalie and his Personal Gorilla Bodyguard™, waiting breathlessly for Ladybug to find them in the reinforced bunker that posed as a small cargo hold in the ship designs. Every small sound echoed in the space, but he wasn’t bothered by it. In fact, he hoped Ladybug’s team had audio sensors sensitive enough to pick them up.

A touch on his shoulder made his heart rate skyrocket even more - but it was only Nathalie, turning to check on him. Adrien covered her hand with his own and squeezed, letting some of his excitement show with a shaky breath. She must have assumed he was scared and squeezed back before turning to the hatch and adjusting her grip on her firearm.

He’d tried to talk her into giving him one of the shipboard assault rifles, too. He wanted to make sure his ‘protectors’ went down quickly if need be, but he told her that he needed some way to defend himself. She’d only given him a look. Apparently Gabriel was willing to sacrifice his only son before allowing him a weapon.

God he couldn’t wait to be free of his life.

A commotion in the corridor outside focused his attention. A sizzling sound came from the door and it whooshed open, briefly blinding him before the bulky forms of the intruders blocked the light. The dark shapes were outlined in silhouettes the color of their hardened spacesuits: pink, orange, green, and gold. His heart leaped again and he fought to suppress a smile.

Nathalie and the bodyguard were quickly dispatched with stun blasts, though it took several simultaneous shots to bring the bodyguard down. Then it was Adrien’s turn. He scooted back as the leader advanced, heart pounding with excitement and fear. Chat Noir had advocated for a hostage situation, but it was possible that Ladybug had decided on outright assassination. One way or another, this would all be over shortly.

The pink-haloed leader raised her weapon, pointing it at him. Adrien gulped and closed his eyes. He didn’t even have time to register the blast before his mind went numb.

----

Marinette leaned against a cabinet in the medbay, waiting for their hostage to wake up. It shouldn’t take long - the effects of the stunners they’d used could be counteracted by the contents of any decently stocked medbay, and Marinette made sure the Miraculous was always overstocked with medical supplies.

Her crew was there, too, all except for Max, who couldn’t leave the bridge. Nino and Alya were busy flirting with each other, Kim was trying to balance a (needle-less) syringe on the end of his nose, and Markov hovered overhead, ready to record everything. Marinette was taking no chances on being accused of human rights violations, though her hands ached with the need to punch their guest.

The unfairly attractive blonde strapped to the medical chair in front of her stirred, and the tension in the room skyrocketed. Kim put the syringe down, Nino and Alya looked up, and Markov beeped to indicate recording was in progress. Marinette also stood up and crossed her arms to avoid temptation.

Adrien Agreste opened unfocused eyes, staring into space with his head lolling a bit. He was clearly still out of it, but it didn’t take long for him to come to full alertness. Curiously, he remained silent, merely looking around the room in a manner so unconcerned that it immediately made Marinette suspicious.

“Are you carrying a tracker?” she asked harshly. They’d scanned him for any such device, of course, but it was possible Agreste Senior managed to obtain something small enough that it wouldn’t show up on a scan.

Agreste Junior met her eyes and his own widened slightly in obvious recognition. “Uh… no. Not that I’m aware of, I mean.”

He smiled, and it was... joyful?

“I’m afraid I’m going to miss that meeting after all, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, though I still hope for that drink sometime. Looks like you’ll just have to keep control of your own business. Thanks for not killing me, by the way - to all of you. I know you must have been tempted,” he added, looking around at them all before leaning his head back with a satisfied smile. “I wish I could see the look on my father’s face when he realizes he’s not getting me back.”

His tone was so full of glee that Marinette barely managed to keep her mouth from dropping open, but she must have looked as astonished as she felt, because his smile turned into a full-fledged grin.

“Oh, haven’t you figured it out yet, Ladybug?” he said, grinning and winking at her. Then he said the three words she’d been waiting to hear for over a year now, ever since her informant had told her he wanted out. Words she’d imagined coming out of the mouth of anyone - literally anyone - but his.

“Plagg, claws out.”

All four of them gasped. Marinette gaped at the man she'd thought she would loathe for all eternity.

“Chat Noir?”

----

“I trust the papers are in order,” Marinette Dupain-Cheng said, smiling at everyone on the other side of the conference table. Her parents sat beside her, but they continued to let her take the lead.

“Drawn up and ready to sign,” the lawyer said, tapping on a tablet before handing it to her. Beside him, Adrien Agreste smiled softly at her. Marinette ignored him and read the documents carefully, making sure that what remained of Agreste Shipping relinquished all claim to her parents’ business, and that the court-mandated payout would cover all the expenses of getting back up and running, with a nice cushion. Satisfied, she handed the tablet to her mother and father, who read and signed it. There was a round of handshakes and congratulations - sincere, as far as she could tell, with no trace of Adrien’s former smug persona.

“Well,” Marinette said, once everyone else had left. “I believe you owe me a drink.”

Adrien’s face lit up. “I do, indeed! Well, who am I to go back on my word? Shall we?”

He held out his arm and Marinette took it. After all, Ladybug had trusted Chat Noir and that had turned out well. Perhaps the future for Marinette and Adrien was equally bright.

@luckycharmzine

[pillowfluffs]

Hunger | Lee Wonho

Pairing: Wonho X Reader (female)

Genre: sm*t 😗

Request: “hi can you do some fluffy smut for wonho related to ramen lol , like y/n ate his ramen and lied to him about it , and she knows he knows she’s lying so he punishes her , sorry for the weird request” - @bunnyoppa29

Author’s Note: things do be getting spicy... if you know what I mean 👀 Thanks for requesting, bunny (if i may call you that akjsdha) But my inbox is still closed! This was requested before it closed! 

Warnings: or*l, f*nger*ng, non-an*l, mouth f**king 👀uhh vivid?? 

Eating ramen that wasn’t yours was one of the best decisions you had ever made and you regretted nothing 

You didn’t regret a single thing, even now with his cock stuffed down in your throat, his hand at the base of your neck behind holding you down onto him, your saliva drooling from the corner of your mouth, your cheeks hollowed looking to him as you knelt forward on the bed between his legs

“We don’t take things that don’t belong to us, do we, Y/N?” he asked, tugging your head up, just a little bit off of him before he pushed you back down til your lips met around the base of his cock, your bottom lip touching his balls 

*like an hour and a half ago*

There was absolutely nothing to do or watch and you were home alone 

Wonho said he would be home later and to not wait up for him for dinner but you tried your best anyways  

You finished your own work a few hours ago yourself and began to try to entertain yourself, watching videos online, putting on a couple short movies that you’ve seen before, even trying a new one but it wasn’t good

the house was dim to your liking as the sun set outside 

Your body was draped over the light brown plush leather couch in the spacious living room, your mind half focused on the house hunting show, no longer as interested in these shows since you found out that the people looking to buy a new house had already picked the house they were “finding” in the show 

that fact totally ruined it for you and it sucked and you knew it was true since it made sense based on how they picked their house and commented on it 

looking at your phone held up over your face, there were no new messages from Wonho or anyone

He would be at the studio today, spending the day recording a new song 

the longer you did your best to wait for Wonho, the louder it sounded like your stomach was grumbling from hunger until it was unbearable 

you pushed yourself off the couch, turning off the tv, letting the room grow even darker, the quiet settled in 

Wonho’s oversized shirt fell around your thighs, the soft, worn fabric brushing your legs as you walked through the dark hall toward the kitchen 

you stopped in the narrow hallway before reaching the wider one that led straight to the kitchen, pausing to take a look at the city skyline in the distance, amazed at the beauty of the view: it looked like a painting 

The boats with their slow lights fading and reappearing on the bay to the side of the city, the bright lights of cars zipping to and fro, the lights inside the skyscrapers that made the city feel so alive but seeing it at a distance made it feel so calm since you could see so much more beyond and around it

it was a sight to see and behold 

In the kitchen, you pulled back a curtain to let the natural, fading light in

Opening the closet, you didn’t even bother to open the fridge since you didn’t want to make anything that required too much effort 

And then your eyes landed on it: the last pack of Wonho’s adored ramen, it made you wonder if he loved it more than he loved you 

You shook your head and took the last pack out, making a mental note to go and guy some more tomorrow, the plastic packaging rustling beneath your grasp 

You made your way to the bottom cabinet beside the stove and grabbed a small sized pot that would fit the ramen. You first filled the pot 2/3 of the way full with water and let it sit on top of the gas stove waiting for it to begin boiling 

You leaned back against the counter, staring outside the window, wondering about anything and life in general, how wonho was doing As the water began to boil, you eased the ramen noodles into the water letting it cook. You took the soup powder and seasoning side packages and dumped them in a bowl, then went back to stirring your noodles to the perfect softness you liked 

When the noodles were ready, your drums had was grumbling louder and louder. You strained the noodles and it into the bowl, letting the remaining wetness on the noodles be costed by the soup powder and season flakes before you poured boiling water from your boiler, making a nice soup 

You downed the bowl of ramen, the soup and spices warming you up on the inside, your hunger satisfied 

The sun was far beyond the horizon, the moon taking its rightful place in the night sky. It was getting pretty late, making you wonder where Wonho was 

But he was in fact, on the way home, the music playing on the radio, wind blowing through his hair as he drove toward home, not exactly in the best mood Changkyun and Hyungwon had broken into his stash of ramen in his studio to purposefully annoy him, which it did. Not to mention, he deeply missed you all day, his phone battery dying on him, making him unable to call or text you whenever he could 

Lately, he was feeling pretty needy and he just wanted to spend some good time with you, especially in bed 

Having himself in his hand wasn’t going to do it 

His goal for tonight was to eat his ramen that he thankfully had one left of at home and to spend a very good time with you at home 

The sound of his keys jingled behind the front door. You got to your feet and embraced him into your arms before he could properly close the door 

“Hi,” you looped your arms around his neck and pressed kisses to his lips 

“Hey you,” he smiled into the kiss. You pulled away so he could set his belongings down, finally closing the door behind him 

“Did you eat yet?” 

“No, changkyun and Hyungwon ate my ramen at the studio,” he huffed, making your heart freeze in your chest. He walked past you, rubbing your arm sweetly and went to the closet, digging through to find it 

 “Uh, wonho?” 

“Yeah?” his voice sweet, his eyes still looking through the organized closet, looking for the last pack 

“I ate it…” His hands stopped searching and he stood there, turning to you with a dark gaze over his eyes, making a chill run down your spine as you hesitantly stood in the doorway of the kitchen 

“But I’ll be-what’re you doing?” 

He snatched your wrist in his hand and turned you, pinning you to the nearest wall, his hands pressing your wrists to the wall beside your head

“If I can’t eat ramen, I’ll just eat something else,” he said lowly, his face inching closer and closer until his lips were moving harshly against yours, his hands leaving your wrists and feeling up your body 

He pushed his knee between your legs, rubbing against you just right 

You brought your hands to the side of his head and neck, adjusting to the harshness of his lips, his tongue tasting your mouth 

You hummed into his mouth, getting aroused, your body getting hotter feeling his leg between yours 

He lifted you, still pressing you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your clothed heat right above his crotch but you can feel the hardness poking you from below Wonho was strong

He didn’t need his hands to support you. One of his arms was reached up on the wall, the other making it’s way up beneath your shirt, his hand finding your breast 

He kneaded you, pinching on your nipples as it hardened beneath his touch, your airy breaths huffing right into his ear with his mouth attached to you neck, nibbling and sucking harshly on your honey skin 

You let out a high pitched whine when he found that one spot on your neck, his tongue working on it, turning you on even more 

You steadied yourself on his shoulders, your hands rubbing up and down his broad and toned back, wishing he would just take it off already 

Bringing his mouth back over to you, both your lips plush and red, he brought you to the living room couch where you lounged about earlier and practically all day today 

The two of you flopped over onto the main couch, he hovered about you in between your legs, his hands hurrying to take off your shirt and his own, throwing them to the ground, not giving a care in the world 

Wonho was starved, you could feel it with the way his hands and mouth roamed all over your body as if he was seeing and feeling it for the first time 

Your hand never left his hair, your other holding the side of the pillow your head laid on, your hair spreading all over it 

He looked up from where he was in between your legs, your eyes lightly closed and you seemed relaxed 

To be honest, he wasn’t that frustrated with you, more annoyed with his members but now he got to complete part of his goals for tonight which was to spend time with you 

And time he spent with you He hooked one arm around your thigh and pulled you down the couch, your cunt right in his face, his breath hot and tickling your heat 

He started off slow, the feeling of his hand spread on your lower abdomen, the side of his thumb slowly flicking you sensitive nub had you moaning and humming 

But out of nowhere, you let out a loud yep feeling his mouth attached to you, his tongue violently harassing your clit and his fingers scissoring inside of you 

As much as you tried to close your legs around him, it was useless, especially with his arm looped around you

Your back was lifted on and off the couch repeatedly and the pleasure he was shooting through your body, your head pushed back into the pillows beside the other arm of the chair in, your hair getting tangled from turning it so often

Your moans soon became whines, urging him to continue, to go harder, faster with just his hand and mouth alone

But he did. Your juices coated his tongue no nicely, he took everything in, the beginning in satisfying his hunger

With your clit being so stimulated and your walls being stretched by his digits, you didn’t even realize he had unhooked his arm from your leg

Your moans echoed off the walls loudly, a knot tightening in your stomach, your toes curling as you got closer and closer to

Your high With his free hand, he pushed down his pants, enough to set his cock free. He pumped himself, spreading his precum as lubricant before he detached himself right before you came, shoving his cock balls deep inside

Your moan became a screaming help, your eyes shooting open only for them to be squeezed shot again. His arms and hands on both sides of you, propping himself up made the couch dip

With the way he held himself up, he was able to roll hips into yours at an ungodly pace, your high knocking the air out of you, your mouth hung wide open with your eyes still shut but no sound coming out

You pushed on his chest, trying to get him to stop but he was chasing his own high and he wanted you to think he was upset about his ramen It was just more fun this way

“WO-wonHO,” you cried, your once sensual moans now sobbing cries and whines as you pleaded for him to stop, but he wouldn’t 

Your energy was being drained immensely and he was too strong

He was bottoming our inside of you, his hard cock rubbing and stretching you out perfectly, it didn’t take long for another high to crash through you, making you feel even weaker

You squeezed around him, your juices squirted out all over the couch as he pulled out, shooting his cum all over your torso and breasts You could feel your back already sticking to the leather of the couch, the leather creaking as he panted, leaning back to kneel on his feet on the couch, pumping his cock slowly, letting the last bits of his cum drip off his tip and hand onto your thighs and folds

Lazily, you dragged your hand and wiped up the cum that was spread on your skin and licked it off your fingers, the sight making him hard

“Y/n, come here,” he took your hand and pulled you up from the couch. He sat himself on the edge of it and sat you down faced up to him He gathered your hair into a ponytail in his hand and brought your mouth to his cock

He let out a sigh feeling your mouth not against the sides of his cock, the way your throat swallowed around his tip

You looked up to him with teary eyes, exciting him further

He set the pace by pushing on your head and pulling, his grasp on your hair readjusting every now and then

You sucked hard, lapping your tongue around his tip and, flicking your tongue up and down his slit, a smirk tugging on his lips

“We don’t take things that don’t belong to us, do we, Y/N?” He locked eyes with you and pushed you all the way down on his length, your hands bracing yourself on his knees

He brought your head back up but not entirely off of him then pushed you back down. He started off slowly, pushing himself all the way down you told your nose poked his pelvis

His grasp on you was tight as you diligently sucked him, a second high approaching him

He readjusted his grasp on your hair and scooted himself closer to the edge of the couch, spread his legs a bit wider

His cock hit the back of your throat harshly. You could feel the veins on the underside rubbing on your tongue

But it wasn’t enough for him He stood to his feet, your head still in his hands. He thrusted himself into your mouth, the angle allowing him to go even deeper, your throat so hot, it felt so good

Saliva dropped off your chin, your breaths unsteady as you did your best to breathe through your nose

You hummed as he went faster, the vibrations driving him crazy

He went faster and faster, chasing his high til he came, cumming down your throat, an airy curse falling from his lips

He bucked out of your mouth, the remaining bits of him drizzled onto your tongue He finally let go of you and sat back on the leather couch, the leather cool against his skin as you sunk down on the floor, gasping your air, your face a mess

“You didn’t let me finish,” you spoke, your voice raspy. “I was gonna say before you did all that that I was gonna buy some more tomorrow,” you planted resting your chin on the edge of the couch, a few beads of sweat lining your hair line

This made him laugh before he helped you to your feet and cleaning you off. To actually satisfy his hunger, he made his second favorite

 brand of ramen but he did enjoy the taste of you

~~~~~ Masterlist for more! Thank you for reading!

[floral-and-fine]

Stitched Together part 2

The creature/Adam x fem reader

Frankenstein AU/ Modern Frankenstein

PART 1

Warnings: I guess a little gore

Summary: The reader is a mortician and a friend of Victor Frankenstein. After receiving a strange message from Victor, the reader finds herself with a lot of unanswered questions and a new roommate.

A/n: I have a vague idea where this is going lol. 

Tags: @rusticup​ @luna-xial​ @aradevil​ @clementines-x​ @motionless-friction​

Moonlight seeped through the blinds of your bedroom window, bathing the room in soft dim light. The clouds from the storm earlier had passed revealing a beautiful night’s sky.

Rubbing his eyes, Adam woke up, feeling rather well rested after only a few hours of sleep. He turned his head to face you.

You looked so calm and peaceful, your mouth parted slightly, and your breathing was slow and steady.

Adam squeezed your hand, he was utterly grateful for all the kindness you’ve shown him. There was so much he wished to tell you, but he still couldn’t formulate the words.

It was as if his lips and tongue were working against him each time he tried to speak, like no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get them to move the way he needed them to.

His mind was foggy like he had been asleep for so long that his past and who he was, was long forgotten in a dream.

When he first woke up he was in so much pain and filled with fear. His body was stiff and ached all over, as he gasped for breath and his eyes finally opened and he saw that man’s face.

Adam didn’t want to think about him, he wanted to forget all about that man completely.

His lips curled downwards, as his stomach growled. It took him a moment to recall what the sensation was… hunger. His insides felt completely empty and his stomach rumbled again louder.

He looked at your sleeping form, he didn’t want to leave you. He was filled with dread every time he imagined being alone again. It would be far worse to return to that dark and lonely place now that he experienced light and your company.

He stayed until the ache became unbearable. By now, the sun started to rise.

Carefully sliding out of bed, Adam tiptoed out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. He found the carton of cookies you had offered him earlier and demolished what was left.

Still feeling hungry, he rummaged through the cabinets finding a bag of potato chips. Opening the bag, he shoveled a handful into his mouth. After a few more, the ache in his stomach dulled.

Adam wandered around your home, still lazily snacking, like a young child he was curious, eager to find out what everything did and what purposed it served.

There was so much to see and touch. He opened all the cabinets and doors exploring what’s inside.

His fingers traced the outline of your face in every photograph you had displayed leaving behind greasy fingerprints. Adam racked his brain, but he didn’t quite have the words for what he felt every time he saw your face.

…

You looked around in a daze, clueless as to how you were back in Victor’s lab. The dim fluorescent lights buzzed above you, providing an eerie glow.

Almost every surface, counters, tables, walls, were covered in smears of blood. Medical tools laid scattered and dirty. Jars of organs and body parts lined the shelves.

You cringed feeling the cold wet linoleum floor on your bare feet as you started to walk. Wrapping your arms around self, you tried to warm up.

There was a bright light in the center of the room directed at a thin lanky man with short wispy blond hair dressed in scrubs. He was hunched over a metal surgical table.

You could hear him muttering to himself as you got closer but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. Violently he slammed his hands down on the table, causing it to rattle, sending several tools cascading down along with a severed arm.

You gasped, as you watched it land with a thud on the floor. The man turned around, finally aware of your presence.

“Victor?” You whispered, lowering your hands from your face.

His bloodshot eyes were dancing wildly at the sight of you. His latex covered hands were drenched in blood.

He dropped the scalpel and brought a hand to his face. In a brisk motion, Victor pulled the surgical mask down and beamed at you with a sadistic smile.

You gulped, feeling like a tiny mouse staring at the fangs of a lion. Then he opened his mouth and…

Crash!

Your eyes snapped open at the sound. Sitting upright, you shook off the bizarre dream and the unsettling feelings it had left you with.

As you rubbed your eyes and looked to your left, where your houseguest had been sleeping, memories of what happened last night flooded your mind.

Concerned about where Adam had disappeared to, you shuffled out of bed. “Adam?” You called, peeking out of your room.

Your home was pretty small, not offering many places for a man of his size to hide.

“Adam?”

Walking down the hall, you figured you should check the doors, make sure he hadn’t left. Your brow furrowed as you found several discarded snack wrappers in your living room.

As you reached your kitchen, you were shocked to find it practically ransacked. Every cabinet door was open, things scattered over the countertops. You sighed as you were able to solve the case of the mysterious noise, discovering the shattered remains of a coffee mug on the floor. But there still wasn’t any sign of Adam.

Your heart started beating faster as fear got the better of you. You prayed that Adam hadn’t left, and if he had you hoped that he hadn’t gotten far.

You were worried about what would happen if someone else found him, would they be able to tell right away what he was like you were? Would they be cruel to him? Would there be people who would want to research him?

For now, all you knew for sure was that he was safest with you.

Your head snapped in the direction of your bathroom, from behind the door you could hear the faint sound of shuffling.

Quietly turning the doorknob, you stepped into the small room. You smiled gently as you pulled back the shower curtain finding sweet Adam huddled in the empty tub.

“Hey,” you cooed softly, crouching down beside the tub. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

He shook his head and your smile grew. You weren’t expecting a response, so you were pleasantly surprised, to say the least.

“Did breaking the mug scare you?”

Adam shook his head again but looked rather afraid at the mention of the mug.

You thought for a moment, trying to understand what had upset him so badly that he would hide. Reaching out, you stroke his arm. “Did you think I would be mad about it?”

He peeked at you and responded with a small nod.

“Oh silly boy,” you gushed, throwing your arms around Adam. “I’m not mad.”

With some coaxing, he finally got out of the tub, and you were finally able to start your day. …

You took some time off of work, hoping within that time you could help Adam adjust. He still seemed so anxious every time you left the house, that you had to constantly reassure him that you’d be right back.

Still, you did have to leave him so you could buy groceries and necessities, not to mention trying to find him some clothes that would fit him properly.

But you absolutely knew the poor guy wasn’t ready for you to be gone all day. Once you’d return home from any kind of outing, Adam would follow you around like a puppy just like he did the night you found him.

Recently, he started a strange yet endearing habit. Every morning, a few minutes before you would wake up, he’d crawl back in bed with you.

The first time, it had startled you, waking up to him being so close, staring at you with his big puppy dogs. But now, you were used to it.

As your eyes flutter opened, a content smile formed on your lips as you saw Adam. He grinned back at you happily. Looking over at the clock on your nightstand you were surprised to see how late it was.

“Good morning,” you murmured softly, still waking up. “Did you sleep well?”

He nodded eagerly, as you sat up. Quickly he shimmied out of bed, then took your hand, obviously excited to show you something.

Walking into the kitchen, you were filled with joy. Adam had apparently tried his hand at making you breakfast. You looked at the spread he prepared on the table, burnt buttered toast, a bowl of cereal that was now soggy, and an apple.

Just as you were about to thank him, there was a sudden knock at the front door.

Adam went rigid at the abrupt sound, staring at it wide-eyed.

You frowned, having no idea as to who it could be, “Adam, go wait in the bedroom.”

He looked at you filled with worry, he trusted you completely, but he was still so unsure and frightened of the rest of the world. What if this person came to take you away?

Whoever it was knocked on the door again, this time louder and harder.

You smiled at Adam, placing your hand on his shoulder, “it’ll be alright.”

Reluctantly, he nodded and slowly trudged to the room closing it behind him.

You gulped as you approached the door, deep down you knew eventually something would happen, that you couldn’t keep him a secret forever, you just prayed that today wasn’t the day.

[snelbz]

Lost Time, Chapter Seven

A/N: How does a new update sound, just over a year after the last one? I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but sometimes a story just stops speaking to you. And then, thanks to your kickass bff, you’re feeling it again, and she helps you write it. Co-written, as always, with the amazing @tacmc. Enjoy!

It wasn’t that Miryam was incapable of taking care of the things in the old house. She was only in her late forties, she still had quite a bit of life in her yet. But when Drakon had gotten sick, a lot of things had become unimportant and now she was the only one left to do it. Or so she thought.

She heard a banging from in the garage and when she hurried to the door and threw it open, she found Azriel on his hands and knees, cleaning up a bucket of screwdrivers and drill bits.

“Oh, uh, hey, mom,” he said, blushing.

“What are you doing?” She asked. “What happened?”

“Well, I was trying to surprise you by fixing the back door, but thanks to Dad's impeccable organizational skills...” He shook the bucket for emphasis. “Surprise, I guess.”

Miryam chuckled, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. “I haven’t been in here in a while. I’m surprised it’s as organized as it is.”

Azriel shook his head, climbing to his feet and dusting off his hands. “I think you and I and dad all have very different definitions of the word organized.”

Her grin widened as she took a sip from her steaming coffee mug. “Maybe so. I appreciate you fixing the door, though. It’s been driving me crazy.”

“I’ve got nothing else to do, figured I would help out,” he muttered, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat that had already begun to form on his brow. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

“Oh, baby,” she came down the steps and rested her hand on his cheek. “You’re going to regret asking me that.

Three hours later, Azriel was convinced she had a list stashed away that was full of shit that had never been worked on in the house and was just ticking them off one by one. He scooped out the last wad of wet leaves and other unknown things from the gutters and took a deep breath as he rested his forehead on the top rung. Even though it was still spring, sweat was dripping off of him and he climbed down the ladder before any could drip in his eyes. A fall from a third-story roof is the last thing he needed right now.

The front door shut and Miryam appeared on the porch, a glass of water in her hand. “How’s it going?”

He was still trying to catch his breath as he crossed the lawn and took the glass from her. “All done. Just finished the gutter across the third story.”

Without hesitation, he poured the ice-cold water over his head.

“Azriel!” Miryam laughed, jumping back. She shook her head. “I’ll go get you a towel.”

He pulled the soaked, gray t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the porch, hearing it smack the wood with a wet slap.

He turned his face up to the late-morning sun and sighed.

It had been three days since he’d been to Elain’s. He knew Miryam was right, if he was here to fix his relationship with her, he needed to fix them. And clearly, there was the whole Lucien thing he wasn’t anticipating, so that complicated things.

But he also didn’t want to smother her.

So he’d laid low the past few days, editing pictures, even calling and canceling all of his upcoming bookings. If he was home, he was home. But she was always in the back of his mind.

And Novan. Even if he couldn’t make things work with Elain - the thought nearly gutted him - as more than friends, he still had his son to think about.

Maybe he’d stop by her house again in the morning, but even though mowing the grass wasn’t on the list, the grass was already long, and while he was fixing everything else, he may as well be cutting the grass, too. Today was to be spent helping his mom, the woman that raised him, and brought him ice cold water to drink every thirty minutes as he worked.

Especially before it could get any longer as the Spring heat progressed.

He found the mower in the back shed, but when he tried to start it, it only sputtered.

“Hasn’t worked for a while.”

“Fuck!” Azriel said, and jumped, only to be met with Miryam’s raised brow, a towel in one of her hands, a newly filled glass of water in her other. He muttered, “Sorry. Thanks.” This time, he drank the water and tossed the towel over his shoulder.

She laughed, quietly. “It’s okay, honey, I think I’m aware that you use such language in your twenties. Anyway, Drakon ordered a part to fix it, but he got too sick before it arrived to do so. It’s in the garage, if you want to give it a go.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I can try, but I make no promises.”

She smiled. “It’s okay, hun. If it doesn’t work, I can just buy a new one.”

Azriel had hauled the busted push mower into the garage, but decided he could use a few minutes to breathe. He entered the house and found Miryam in the living room. He fell onto the couch next to her.

She pushed him away. “Get your sweaty self off of my couch right now or you’ll regret it.”

He laughed, but stood and headed back into the kitchen. Opening a water bottle he pulled from the fridge, he downed it in nearly one gulp.

“Good Lord, you didn’t have those the last time I saw you.”

He choked on the water and coughed. “What?”

Miryam smirked, gesturing to his muscles. “You leave and you’re a boy, you come back a man.”

He glanced down at his body, still bare, though his shirt tumbled in the dryer. Running a hand over his abdomen, he mumbled, “I have a very...active lifestyle.”

“Right,” she laughed. “Not to impress all the models you work with every day.”

“Mom, it’s not.” She just looked at him. “Okay, not completely.”

The back door burst open, not a creak to be heard and Novan rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Meme!”

Azriel stilled as Novan ran into Miryam’s arms. She caught him, easily, and lifted him into the air as Novan caught sight of Azriel. “Hi, Azriel!”

Azriel relaxed, the shock factor he still got from seeing his son, especially when he wasn’t expecting it, beginning to wear off. “Hey, bud. How ya doing?”

“Good, mommy let me bring my dinosaur,” he said, as if that was the deciding factor of whether or not he was in a good mood. For emphasis, he held up a little plastic t-rex.

Azriel chuckled, leaning back against the cabinets, arms crossed over his inked chest. “Very nice.”

Then the thought hit him, and he was unsure of why it hadn’t hit him before, but if Novan was here, Elain wouldn’t be far behind. Azriel just prayed that Lucien hadn’t come for a visit, too.

As if on cue, footsteps sounded up the back porch and Elain opened the door, then froze, brows furrowed. For a few seconds, Elain slowly opened and shut the door before saying, “Miryam, it seems that a miracle has occurred, because this is the quietest this door has ever been.”

She would know, too, because they would have a hell of a time quietly sneaking her into that back door in the middle of the night all throughout high school.

“Miracle, WD-40, it goes by many names,” she laughed as she headed into the living room. “To what do I owe this nice surprise?”

Azriel hesitated in the kitchen, realizing that Elain somehow hadn’t noticed his truck out back. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but he also didn’t want her to leave on his account.

She sighed. “I’m so sorry to do this, but could you watch Novan for a little bit today? I have something really important I need to take care of today.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” She smiled, hugging Novan a little tighter as he giggled. “Az was just about to fix the lawnmower for me, so-.”

“Azriel is here?” She asked, cutting her off.

Azriel could hear Miryam’s hesitation, which was only worsened when Azriel tried to creep out of the kitchen and stepped on a creaky floorboard, just before he could round the corner into the hall, which could be seen through the opening of the dining room, where Elain stood, just inside of the backdoor.

Her eyes shot to him and he froze, fully aware that his cheeks were turning red as he got caught trying to sneak out. “Sorry, I just, I was only...hi.”

Miryam pressed her lips tightly together to keep herself from laughing at her son’s awkward nature, no doubt. Elain didn’t say a word, only stared at Azriel, her eyes trailing down to his chest before quickly, quietly looking away.

“Why don’t you help me water the flowers out front a minute?” Miryam asked Novan, in which he responded with a loud, excited yes as she carried him out of the room.

A few seconds of silence passed before Elain blurted, “He loves using the watering hose.”

“Gotcha.” Azriel nodded. He wasn’t sure why he was nodding, but he also wasn’t sure what to say.

Sorry I snuck out the other day. Heard you and your shitty boyfriend having a fight about me. Wanna get back together?

Right.

Elain cleared her throat. “I was actually going to come by your hotel after I dropped him off here.”

He made no effort to hide the surprise on his face. “You were? Why?”

She was chewing on that lip again and even from across the room, he wanted to work it from in between her teeth and ask what was on her mind.

She opened her mouth to speak but paused, clearing her throat. When she finally looked at him and spoke, he wasn’t sure if her question had him excited or terrified.

“Do you want to go get a cup of coffee with me?”

Thirsty minutes and the quickest shower of Azriel’s life later, they were parked in front of the cafe Elain had worked at during high school.

Az promised Miryam he’d work on the lawnmower the next day, but she said that Novan was going to help her pick a new one out from the home improvement store that afternoon.

They sat down at a table after ordering their drinks, Azriel on one side of the booth, Elain sitting across from him on the other. Azriel searched his mind, desperately, for something, anything to say, but he came up short. He hated doing the small talk thing, especially with Elain, when they had so much history together.

He used to know every little thing about her, but that was four years ago, and things changed, people changed.

He sure as hell had.

A few minutes of silence passed before their drinks were set down in front of them. Azriel, a simple mug of steaming black coffee, which he drowned in sugar, and Elain, a fancy cappuccino of some sort that looked foreign to him sitting in front of her.

She used to hate cappuccinos.

He wasn’t the talker, she was. It was one of the main reasons they’d been so perfect for each other. But it seemed that, although she called this meeting, she wouldn’t be the one starting it. So he’d start it in the most to the point way he knew how to.

“So I assume you wanted to talk to me about something?” He asked.

She was lost in thought, staring at nothing out of the window. His voice brought her back to the moment and she blinked. “Right.” Elain took a sip of her drink and said, “I thought it might be a good idea to give each other the chance to ask anything the other might want to.”

He leaned back, crossing an ankle over his knee. “Okay,” he said, somewhat hesitant. He had a few questions for her, but none as tense as the ones she’d likely have for him.

When neither of them started, Azriel continued, “Am I going first? Or…”

She laughed, quietly, although the light never reached her eyes. “If you have a question, ask away.”

Azriel let out a long, slow breath before picking up his mug and taking a sip. It took him a few seconds to decide what he wanted to ask first, then he decided on one he already knew the answer to. “How long have you and Lucien been together?”

Elain nodded, slowly, completely unsurprised by the question. “About three months, give or take.”

“And he doesn’t live with you,” he continued, quietly, needing it to be confirmed for his own selfish sake.

“No,” she said, staring at her mug. “He doesn’t.”

He nodded, processing the information. He waited for her to ask hers.

She set her cup down and asked, “Do you have a girlfriend back home in New York?”

He shook his head. “No. Nothing in New York but an empty apartment and a gallery full of prints.” She nodded once and gestured for him to go ahead.

“How did-.” He stopped and changed how he wanted to word the question. “When did you find out you were pregnant?”

This is where things were going to get hard.

“Three and a half months after you left,” she said, staring at her cappuccino as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. “I went to my annual check-up with my gyno and they came in talking about vitals and progression and asking when I wanted to schedule my ultrasound.” She blinked and Az could see the tears lining her lashes. “It was the first thing I’d felt since I found your note that morning in the church.”

He hated himself for asking the question, even though he so desperately wanted to know the answer. The answer crushed him, though, but he deserved as much.

“And, uh,” he continued, clearing his throat to keep his voice from breaking, “were you well taken care of? I mean, through your pregnancy?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath and blinking rapidly to help keep the tears at bay. “Yeah, my sisters were great, and so were Rhys and Cass, and your parents, of course.”

Everyone in his life but him.

His next question could hardly be heard above the distant conversation and whirring of machines. “Who was in the hospital with you when he was born?”

He knew he was asking a lot of questions, knew he should let her ask one, but he had to fucking know.

“Your mom,” she breathed, “and my sisters.”

Four fucking years. Everyone had known for four fucking years that he was a father, everyone he’d grown up with, his own damn family, and no one had ever said a word.

“I didn’t invite you here to fight, Az,” she whispered. “They kept it from you because I asked them to. It…” She blinked, but she wasn’t able to stop the first tear that finally fell. “It’s not like it was hard. You never called. You didn’t come back.”

“He’s my son, Elain.” He had no right to be mad and he knew it, but still. It hurt him.

“He’s my son,” she said, quietly, but not weakly. “He just met you, and I won’t feel bad about it, Az, because you left. You left, and if you stayed, you would’ve been there for all of it, since the day he was born, but you didn’t. How the hell was I supposed to know that you’d want anything to do with him if you didn’t want anything to do with me?”

He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. She was absolutely right and that’s why it hurt him so badly. He just sat there, watching as tear after tear streamed down her face. There was nothing he could say to resolve what he’d destroyed in the past, he could only try to salvage his future.

“I’m sorry, Elain,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, so fucking sorry for leaving you. I fucked up. But I’m here now.” He swallowed hard. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

She sighed, letting her head fall into her hands. “How can I believe you, Azriel? You promised to love me for the rest of my life, yet I’ve been on my own for the past four years.”

He couldn’t have stopped the words if he tried. “I haven’t broken my promise.”

The silence settled between them and he regretted the words, even if he had already told her he still loved her.

She finally looked up at him, those brown eyes showing him how broken she truly was. “How can I trust that you won’t leave him, when you left me?”

Azriel felt a surge of anger that quickly faded, only to be replaced with sadness, longing, pain. She had a right to ask that question, even if it hurt like hell. Yet, he said the first words that came to his mind. “Do you really think I’m so horrible? I made a mistake, El, yeah, I’ve owned up to that, but I would never….I’m not like my parents were, okay? I’m not going to be some shit, heartless asshole who neglects their fucking kid.”

From the look that crossed her eyes, Azriel knew that she knew he wasn’t talking about Miryam and Drakon. Azriel had rarely acknowledged his birth parents through the years, but he meant every word: he wouldn’t be like them.

His mother, she hadn’t been the problem. She was sweet and kind, but life wasn’t kind to her and she’d died before Azriel had even turned five years old.

But his father and step-mother. They were evil for the fun of it. Last he’d heard, his father was in a penitentiary along the coast and his stepmother was in a psychiatric hospital.

Elain’s face softened. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt him, but...he’s been asking where his daddy is since he learned that all normal families have a mommy and a daddy.”

Normal families.

The words cut him, but he said, “And what have you told him?”

She simply said. “It’s not your question.”

The want to argue was overwhelming, but he pushed it down. “Fair enough.”

She nodded, and took another sip from her cup. After the long sip was finished, she finally got the nerve to ask, “Have you been with anyone else? Since me?”

Azriel’s mug stopped halfway to his lips. He wanted so desperately to lie, but knew he shouldn’t. With a sigh, he set his mug back down before he could take a drink. “One. About two years ago, and I was horribly drunk, and it was really awkward, and I beat myself up about it for...well, still.” He laughed, quietly, but there was no humor in it, it came more from his complete discomfort. Azriel wasn’t the kind to sleep around, nor was he the kind for one night stands. When Elain said nothing, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing serious, though,” he continued. “I haven’t dated, not really. Went on one about six months ago, but I ate bad shrimp and puked, so...that ended poorly, too.” Elain, despite herself, chuckled, and this time, it nearly reached her eyes. “I haven’t wanted to be with anyone else, Elain.”

She nodded and saw that his cup was nearly empty. “Are you ready?”

He looked at her cup still mostly full. “Yeah.”

They stepped out into the warm spring day and as they walked, Azriel slid his hands into his pockets. “So what are his favorite things to do?”

Elain pursed her lips. “Right now, it’s the LEGO kits. He’ll build one and tear it down in one day.”

He whistled. “Smart kid.”

She nodded. “He’s already begging to go to school.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “He must have gotten that from you.”

This earned him a small smile. “Yes, he did. That and my outstanding organization skills. It’s very impressive for a four-year-old.”

Azriel grinned, hands still in his pockets as he glanced sideways at her. “I’m sure. I did notice when I was in his room the other day that his cars are color-coordinated.”

Elain laughed. “Yes, always.”

Azriel's grin widened as he nodded. “Alright, your turn.” He figured nothing could be worse than his shrimp-date confession.

She took a moment to think before asking, “Do you like New York? What’s it like?”

He blew out a breath. “It's...different, that's for sure.” They walked across the street towards the new park in the town square. “It’s never closed. You can get whatever you want whenever you want it.”

She looked around. “Much different from here, hmm?”

He glanced at her, but kept walking. “You’d like it, you know?”

She shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t. It’s too busy.”

He raised his brows. “You don’t like the busy nightlife anymore?”

She shook her head, slowly. “I stay home a lot, but I don’t mind it. I like the quiet and, believe it or not, I’ve grown quite fond of our little town.”

There were a ton of things that Azriel could have said in response, he went with repeating, “Quite fond? That would be a phrase that’s in your vocabulary.”

“It’s in Novan’s, too.”

Azriel laughed a breathy laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

There were still a thousand things he wanted to ask her, but he fell into a silence as she smiled, a full-fledged, full-teeth smile, and Azriel knew it was because they were talking about Novan, and perhaps that made the sight even more beautiful. He was taken back, his breath taken away. He stared, and he didn’t care that he was staring, didn’t look away. She was so incredibly beautiful that he had no idea how there had been a time when she had loved him, too.

He didn’t realize his feet were slowing until Elain looked over at him, her smile fading as she asked, “What? Is there something on my face? In my teeth?” Her hand was quickly flying over her mouth.

“No, I just-.” He hesitated, wondering if he should be honest or lie his ass off. “You look beautiful today.”

That smile returned, not quite as bright, but her eyes softened. She blushed, pink staining her cheeks. For the first time, Azriel felt like he was seeing his Elain again. “Thank you,” she breathed.

He reached out, brushing the loose hairs behind her ear, his hand lingering by her face. Without realizing it, she leaned into his touch.

A little cry from the playground reached them, and regardless of the fact that their son was safely with his Meme, they jumped, looking toward the cry.

Elain noticed the close proximity and cleared her throat. “Do you have another question for me?”

Azriel walked over to a bench underneath a tree and sat, bracing his elbows on his knees. She sat next to him, closer than she’d originally planned, but there was a look on Azriel’s face that worried her.

He didn’t look at her, just looked at his hands hanging between his legs. “Have you slept with anyone else? Lucien?”

Elain took a deep breath. She was also staring at his hands, he noticed, and he had the sudden urge to hide them, but then he reminded himself that it was Elain, and she was not scared away by his scars.

“No,” she said, at last. “We’ve done….no, I haven’t slept with anyone.”

Azriel reached up to scratch his nose, although there was no itch, hardly able to believe that she had gone four years without having sex, even though his list of flings since Elain remained short, too.

He looked up at her, then, just now realizing how close she sat to him. He could easily take her hand, could easily grab her face and bring it toward his lips, and the urge to do so made him ache, but he didn’t. She was watching him, too, though, thoughtfully.

“Does that surprise you?” she asked, quietly.

He looked off towards the Sidra. “No. Yes.” His voice was as quiet as hers was. “I don’t know.” She nodded, understanding. He glanced at her, wanting to see her when she answered. “You’ve...only been with me?”

She swallowed hard. “It’s only been you.”

He stood and held out his hand. She looked at it, a look of confusion on her face. “What?”

He smiled. “Come on. I’ve got something for you.”

She raised an eyebrow, but she took his hand to stand. They walked side by side to his truck, plenty of space between them, but not quite as far as they had been before.

There was a kind of calm that Azriel hadn’t felt in years. Being with Elain, it was just easy. The silence wasn’t tense, it wasn’t full of unanswered questions, though many still hung between them, and as they neared his truck, she asked, “Are you staying, Az? For real?”

He stopped, and faced her, making sure his eyes had connected with hers as he said, “Yes. I’m staying, I promise.”

“I want to believe you,” she breathed. “I really want to believe you, Az.”

“Then believe me, please,” he begged, his voice a quiet plea. Those tears In her eyes were returning, and he was shaking his head. “Elain, believe me. I made a mistake once, and I won’t make the same mistake twice, okay?”

She nodded, but refused to meet his gaze. He didn’t blame her. If he were her, he wouldn’t believe her, either.

“I got something,” he said, unlocking the driver’s side door. “For Novan. If that’s okay.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh. Wow, okay. Of course.”

Azriel reached behind the seat and grabbed the camera he’d bought earlier in the week. “Here. This is an old model, it’s not expensive, so he can be a little rough with it.” She took the box in her hands and stared at it. “I know he’s too young now, but photography is something I’d like to share with him one day.”

Elain ran a delicate hand over the box. She was silent.

He asked, “Elain?”

“Azriel, this is…” Her voice broke and when she looked up, she was crying again.

He breathed, “El…”

“Why did you have to ruin what we had?” She whispered. “We could have been so happy. We were so happy. Why did you have to run?”

He couldn’t have stopped the words if he tried. “Baby, please, let’s just-.”

“Don’t you dare call me ‘baby’.” He could hear the pain in her voice, and she physically took a step back.

His eyes closed and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Elain, I didn’t mean to.”

Her eyes were hard as she said, “I have a boyfriend, Az.”

“I know you do, it just slipped out,” he said.

She bit out, “Then stop acting like it’s you.”

All the words on Azriel’s tongue faded away and he was left staring at her, his lips parted, his breaths uneven.

He could tell her that wasn’t his intention, but it would do no good. He had been vocal about his feelings for her, but she never returned them. It was clear she had moved on, and as much as Azriel didn’t want to admit it, the pain in her eyes, the venom in her voice, told him enough: he had ruined whatever he and Elain could have had four years ago.

And that was all on him.

So Azriel turned his back to Elain and continued to walk toward his truck. “I’ll drive you back to your car.”

He meant for his words to be steady, strong, as if her statement hadn’t completely destroyed him, but he failed. His words were uneven, low, broken.

“I’ll walk.”

Before Azriel could even turn around, she was already walking away. “Elain, please!”

He caught up to her and reached out, catching her wrist. She pulled her hand from his grip and glared up at him. “Don’t touch me. I’ll knee you in the balls, I already got what I needed from them.”

He took a step back. “Are you kidding me, El?”

The venom faded from her voice, the ice from her veins. “Az,” she breathed.

“Just get in the truck.”

“I’m sor-.”

“Just get in the fucking truck,” he snapped, quietly, taking a step backward toward the old truck, his jaw locking. He unlocked the door and threw it open, hauling himself inside and starting the engine, not bothering to watch if she was coming or not.

Anger and frustration and pain and embarrassment boiled beneath the surface, but all that showed of it was his white knuckles as they gripped the wheel.

A few seconds later, the passenger side door opened and Elain helped herself in, silently.

He didn’t bother to tell her about the other gift in the box she clutched in her lap as they silently drove back to Miryam’s. The gift he’d gotten for her.

Because he wasn’t her boyfriend and he needed to stop acting like he was.

[welcometophu]

The Meaning of Home, Chapter 2

The Meaning of Home Chapter 2

Tags for all Welcome to PHU novels will be available at the PHU tag list on Pillowfort. This list is under construction as of Sept. 5, 2021.

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Pawel spends much of Monday lounging around the house. He gets up to help get Conor and Emma on the bus, so his dad can leave on time for work. After meeting the bus in his pajamas, he walks back to Dad’s house and lies down on the couch. He doesn’t really need a blanket, but he pulls it up to his nose anyway for the comfort factor and spends the day dozing and streaming old movies on his dad’s TV.

He never makes it as far as thinking about cooking anything for dinner, so he treats Dad and Conor to a night out. It eats up more time than he’d like, and it means Conor needs to scramble to finish the last of his homework once they’re home, but it’s nice to spend an hour letting someone else do the cooking.

Later that evening, after Conor goes to bed, Pawel and Dad spend the next couple of hours finally talking through everything that’s happened. Pawel doesn’t want to leave things out, but there are a few things he avoids for Dad’s safety, like the government involvement, and one thing he just doesn’t know how to explain.

He hasn’t seen Chelsea in a while. She’s relearning how to work within the world without draining souls to stay alive. He highly doubts she’s planning on stopping by his father’s for a visit, and even if she did, Dad never got to meet her as anything other than one of Pawel’s friends a decade ago.

Yeah. That is a complicated mess that he has no desire to go into detail about.

They go to bed late, but Pawel still wakes early on Tuesday to get his own kid on the bus. He figures it’s the least he can do, letting Dad get to work on time on a regular basis again.

Alone in the house again, Pawel feels refreshed and awake.

And bored.

He puts the phone on speaker as he putters around the kitchen, pressing to dial the number for Pels. She picks up after two rings, her voice gravelly and low. “What? Did we burn your house down?”

“I’m assuming you would have called me, rather than the other way around, if you burned my house down. Since you’re the one staying there.” Pawel rifles through his father’s cabinets until he finds a slow cooker. It’s dusty, but he’s pretty sure it’ll be functional. There should be enough ingredients for chili around. 

He looks into a cabinet, and nearly bare shelves stare back at him.

Okay, maybe not.

“What?” Pels asks again. “You woke me up. Are you looking for my mom? I thought you had her number.”

Pawel finds tomatoes and beans, and starts emptying them into the slow cooker. “I do. I thought she’d be at work, so I called you instead.”

“It’s too early and—Dad, Dad, no, I’ll talk to him. Give me back my phone.”

“Hello, Ammon.” Pawel might not be able to hear Pels’s father, but he’s well aware by now that the ghost can hear him.

“He’s leaving, and I’m not putting this on speaker,” Pels mutters. “I thought he was going to start spending more time with Mom now, after the whole unbinding ceremony last weekend, but apparently she told him not to follow her to work.”

“Can she see him now?” That would be an interesting development. Pawel sets the empty can on the counter and reaches for a pad of sticky notes so he can scribble a reminder to himself to look into more detailed information about the ritual that the Burlington community performed for Pels and her mother in order to remove the bindings from their Talents.

“I think so. I mean, I’m pretty sure she can, but we’re not really talking about it. But seriously. Did you call for a reason? Cheyenne’s got these final projects to finish up since she left school a couple weeks early, so she’s not bothering me. Dad wasn’t bothering me. I was sleeping.” Pels grumbles under her breath.

“I just wanted to see how things were going.” Pawel peels off the sticky note and tapes it to the fridge, where he might see it later. Another search of the cabinets turns up chili powder and a few other seasonings. “Now that you’ve had a chance to settle into the house.”

“We’re fine. We’re figuring out how to be a family again without Peter.” Pels hesitates. “I’m learning how to see the world a whole different way now that I can see everything my Talent lets me see. Shane and Jess and I are talking a lot, and I’m going to figure this Mage thing out. So… thanks. For everything. Including letting us stay in your house while you’re gone.”

Pawel shakes some cocoa powder into the slow cooker, before adding a handful of dried onion. “Someone’s got to water the plants.”

“The plants were already dead when we got here.”

He laughs at Pels’s dry words. She’s not wrong. Pawel was gone for a month; everything went to hell, while his son went to stay with his dad.

Which, yeah. That brings him right back around to where he is now.

Pawel stares at the slow cooker. “If you need anything, you’ve got my number.”

“I’ll tell Mom to check in with you periodically. Oh and—” Pels hesitates before asking, “Cheyenne wants to know if it’s okay if she uses your backyard to practice flying?”

Pawel thinks of the time they used Alaric’s dragon to summon a Shadow in that same backyard. “That would not be the strangest thing the neighbors could have witnessed. But she should try not to break anything, including herself.”

“I think we can do that. Gotta go. Dad says there’s someone at the door.”

The line goes abruptly silent, and Pawel looks down at the screen of his phone as the connection is lost. “Okay, then.” He gives the vegetarian chili a quick stir, then puts the lid on, plugs it in, and switches the appliance on to cook on low. “That’s set, at least.”

He feels a little better, knowing that his home is in good hands, or at least, it’s not burning down. It sat empty for a month before; having someone live there for the summer should be better.

As long as none of the newly powered Mages set the place on fire.

Fire.

That reminds him.

Pawel checks one more time to ensure that the slow cooker is on and set to low, then heads back to the living room to dig out his laptop. He starts it up and finds the tab he’d left open for the outdoor music festivals, with a list of dates.

That’s what he thought: the festival that Rory and Thorne’s band, Phoenix Rising, is touring with will be in Buffalo this weekend.

Pawel buys four tickets. He figures Dad will come with them, and Conor will want to bring a friend. Probably Alan. And if Dad doesn’t want to go, Alan’s mom, Emily, might join them instead. He’s not worried if the tickets don’t all get used; he just wants options.

Conor will be pleased by the surprise, anyway.

He closes the laptop and looks back to the kitchen.

How the hell does his dad live like that, anyway? And what has Conor been eating?

No, he saw the answer to that this morning. Toaster pastries and cereal, and Pawel’s pretty sure that the last of the eggs were finished off as well.

Fine.

If Pawel’s going to be here all summer, squeezed into his dad’s small space, the least he can do is lay in supplies.

Pawel spends the day scouring the cabinets, making a long list of everything from prepared garlic and ginger for easy seasoning, to pantry staples like pasta, to critical items like various forms of protein for the freezer. His dad has a standing freezer in the garage, and even that seems woefully empty.

He loses time going through the sites online for each local grocery store, poring over the ads to determine which store will have the best value for this shopping trip. He types up the list to rearrange it by food type, so that as soon as Conor’s home they can head out and maybe they’ll be organized enough to get the trip done quickly.

“Dad!” The door bangs open. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving and something smells really good.”

“It’s not dinner time.” Pawel folds up the printout of the list and shoves it in his pocket. “We’re going shopping. Grab a snack.” His own stomach growls and he’s not sure how he made it from early morning to half past three without a meal. “I think I saw a box of granola bars.”

Conor lifts the lid to the slow cooker, inhaling deeply, while Pawel finds the last two granola bars. He tosses one to his son.

“Let’s get some food.”

“Can we get meat for the chili? That looked like it was all beans,” Conor grumbles. He buckles his belt, then directs Pawel to the grocery store. 

Pawel already knows how to get there, but he’s not going to tell Conor that. Not when Conor seems comfortable in this place and is enjoying showing off that comfort level. He stays silent while Conor points out the entrance to the parking lot, then finds them a space close to the door.

Conor grabs a cart from the corral and pushes it into the store. “Emma’s Papa picks her up after school, so she doesn’t have to take the bus. She said they’re doing stuff today, so she couldn’t come over. I thought we could work on our—Emma!!” 

Pawel catches the cart, stopping it from rolling when Conor takes off into the produce section. Emma’s answering shout is sharp and loud as Conor skids to a stop near a display laden with peaches. Pawel pushes the cart there, half an ear listening to the kids talking as if they weren’t together a half hour ago in school.

“Dad!” Conor waves at him, so Pawel picks up the pace.

He’s not sure who Emma is with. She stands next to an almost empty cart, except for a bag of peaches sitting in the seat. There doesn’t seem to be any sign of an adult.

“Emma’s shopping.”

Emma rolls her eyes, pushing braids back over her shoulder. “Obviously,” she says quietly. “Jennie had to pee. He’ll be back soon. She forgot to go before we left school.”

“Does your Papa have two carts? We can help you,” Conor offers. “You and me can do one cart, and Dad can do ours, and your Papa can do the other one.”

“You can call me Leo. I don’t think your dad would like it if you started calling me Papa like the rest of the kids.”

Pawel knows that voice.

He hasn’t heard the voice in a very long time, but there are certain phrases still etched in the deep recesses of his memory. 

He exhales, and very deliberately makes himself look at the man who has joined him.

He looks good. Older, yeah. It’s been more than ten years since Leo graduated and left town for college. Apparently he’s back now, and from the police uniform, this would be Emma’s foster father that works for Pawel’s dad.  He has the name ‘L. Papa’ embroidered on his uniform, just above the pocket, and his badge is still visible. Leo stands with one hand on the handle of the cart and reaches without looking to take a package of donuts out of the hands of the small girl sitting in the basket of the cart.

When he smiles, Pawel’s heart twists.

“I was glad to hear you reappeared,” Leo says quietly. His voice is a warm, low tenor, as careful and even as Pawel remembers.

“You’re fostering a Weather Witch.” It’s maybe not the best reply. Pawel refuses to wince when Conor snickers.

“I told you he’s single-minded sometimes,” Conor whispers loudly to Emma. “He’ll help find your parents. I know your Papa’s a police officer, but Dad’s a Mage.”

Emma’s brown eyes are furrowed and dark. Her lips purse, but she doesn’t say anything.

Leo takes two sheets of paper from his pocket, then hands one to Emma. “You know which cereals the boys like best. Pick one for yourself and Jennie that they won’t eat before you get a chance. Since you’re the one with me, you get to pick the pasta. I know it says twenty boxes of mac & cheese, but we only need ten. We’ll be shopping again next week.”

Emma takes the list and reads it over solemnly. “Nevaeh said we need more tuna, but it’s not on the list. I’ll get that, too. C’mon, Conor. There were some cookies on sale. Help me pick out ones that the boys won’t eat before we can.”

“Popcorn,” Conor replies. “Remember, we used the last of it last weekend? Did that get on your list?”

They roll away with the almost-empty cart before Pawel can protest.

The small girl in Leo’s cart has the box of donuts in her hands again. She opens the plastic carefully and takes one out.

“Jennie,” Leo says softly.

“I need sugar to sparkle,” she whispers around a mouthful of chocolate cream.

Speechless feels so strange. Pawel can’t remember the last time his tongue has been this tangled. “I—” He tries to break his own silence, and fails miserably.

“Things get chaotic with five kids in the house,” Leo says. When he smiles again, his pale green eyes crinkle around the corners with tiny lines that definitely weren’t there before. They match the faint hints of salt in his dark hair. “Conor’s got a lot of energy. He probably keeps you on your toes.”

“Dad says I’ve been cursed with a kid that’s just like I was,” Pawel says. He pushes his hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to recover his balance. “He didn’t tell me you were one of Emma’s foster fathers. Just that she had two of them. Foster fathers. And two missing parents.”

Meeting his ex-boyfriend shouldn’t be this unsettling.

Pawel blames it on the fact that he’s probably still in a sleep deficit—two weeks is not enough time to catch up on missing sleep for several months.

“There’s a local teacher who works with a group that finds placements for Talented kids who need Talented families to stay with.” Leo has the second page of his list in his hand, and he refers to it while picking out produce.

Right. Shopping.

Pawel looks at his own list and tries to focus on that to give himself a little distance and wrangle his brain back into working order. Salad. They definitely need things for salad. And fresh vegetables for roasting wouldn’t be bad.

“Alice asked Colt if he knew anyone who might be able to take on kids about four years ago, and when he said we would, she put us in touch with Lucy and Rowan, and that’s how we got Matt, our first foster kid.”

Leo’s voice rolls over Pawel, dropping tidbits of information that he struggles to grab onto.

“Matt’s not bad,” Jennie says around a mouthful of donut. “Sometimes.”

Pawel latches onto the names, his fingers closing around a broccoli crown and holding it a little too tightly. He fumbles with the plastic bag. “Lucy and Rowan? And… Colt?” He had to have heard those wrong.

He manages to get the bag open and shoves two broccoli crowns into it, dropping them in the basket of his cart.

Leo is silent.

When Pawel looks at him, Leo stands with his fingers wrapped around the handle of the cart, his grip tight. “Colt Harrison,” he says. “My husband. You—”

“Dated him in high school, yeah.” Pawel finishes Leo’s sentence for him.

That’s… too much information. Pawel is struggling to assimilate it.

“Dad did not mention that,” he mutters.

“This doesn’t have to be weird.” Leo grabs the container of donuts and moves it to another area of the cart. Jennie could still get to it, but she pouts instead, slouching down in one corner of the basket, her lower lip sticking out and flecked with chocolate. “Colt and I met when he was interning at the law office where he works now. We’ve been married about three years. We didn’t even know each other back in high school.”

“It doesn’t have to be weird,” Pawel echoes. He’s right, of course. It shouldn’t be weird. It’s not weird at all. People meet. They fall in love. They get married. They have kids. Sometimes there’s a small world effect and it turns out that they may have already been connected beforehand.

That’s all Pawel is in this; an ancient history connection.

“Your dad talks about you all the time,” Leo says. He pulls a napkin from his pocket and cleans Jennie’s fingers. “Try not to touch anything else,” he admonishes gently before tucking the dirty napkin back in his pocket. 

He’s so careful with her. Pawel remembers when Leo used to take care of his younger siblings. It only makes sense that he’d be good with kids now. As big and scruffy and rough looking as he is, he’s gentle, too.

“I need to—” Pawel holds up the list, showing just how long it is. “Dad’s cupboards are empty. I’m not sure what he and Conor have been eating, and I get the feeling that it’s takeout so I really don’t want to know. I need to stock up.”

“So do we. Matt’s eleven and Clan, and Duke’s fourteen. We go through a lot of food in our house.” Leo heads toward the back of the store. “Come on. We’ll catch up with the kids if we get moving.”

Pawel exhales and trails behind Leo. Jennie peeks around him, her thumb in her mouth as she looks at Pawel. Small brown brows furrow deeply before she turns away and curls up.

Her snores are adorable little rasps of sound. He can’t think how she’s sleeping through the rattle and squeak of the cart she rides in. Still, she’s silent as they work their way through the aisles, collecting items from their respective lists.

They turn down one aisle and spot Conor and Emma from a distance. Conor has sparks around his hand while Emma reaches for something falling from the shelves.

Pawel coughs, and Conor turns to give him an innocent look.

Wait. That reminds him.

“You’re taking in Talented kids,” Pawel says slowly. “So you or Colt must be—”

“We both are,” Leo says, glancing at him sideways. “I grew up Clan. Colt’s Emergent, but that’s his story to tell. I heard about you being a Mage from your dad. He’s proud of everything you’ve done at PHU.”

Pawel waves that away. “Youngest dean. Newest department. Only real expert on Talent as a whole because I’m the only person who’s bothered to go down the rabbit hole far enough to study it formally.”

“It’s still impressive.” Leo huffs.

“I just… I never knew.” Pawel thinks back and tries to catalog Leo’s family based on what he knows of Clan. He didn’t interview them for his thesis; they weren’t on his radar as a large Clan community. They grew up as a part of the town.

“You weren’t meant to.” Leo dips into his pocket and hands the napkin back to Jennie, who has somehow woken from her nap and polished off a second donut while they weren’t paying attention. “That was before the Emergence. We took a lot of care to be able to live here without anyone knowing.”

“But your community—”

“Widespread and buried within this town and the surrounding ones. We never really wanted to withdraw from the rest of the world. Which is what makes us good candidates for fostering. We don’t have those same prejudices that some might have.” Leo drops a hand to the top of Jennie’s head, and she looks up at him, smiling brightly.

There are, indeed, sparkles all around her, the air shimmering with her contentment and happiness.

“Conor wants me to help find Emma’s parents,” Pawel says quietly. “At the same time, I’m not sure if he really wants me to get involved, after everything that happened this last year. What do you—”

“I think they’re dead,” Leo says quietly. His hand still rests atop Jennie’s head, but his gaze is fixed on Emma. “I can tell you what little we know, but everything points to them being dead. The question is what happened to their bodies.”

Unfortunately, Pawel’s had experience with issues like that and can think of at least one scenario.

Which might mean they’re not dead.

They also might not be prepared to be parents anymore, either.

Leo pitches his voice louder. “You should come over for dinner some night.”

Both Conor and Emma turn to look at them. Emma grips the side of the cart, stepping up and holding on while Conor gives it a good push before jumping up himself. It sends them racing towards Leo and Pawel, until Pawel puts up a hand, throwing out a gentle cushion of magic to stop them before they crash.

“Yes!” Conor yells. “Dinner!”

“You could come over and meet everyone. If you want to.” Emma’s gaze drifts away, like she really doesn’t care about the answer.

“They’re like my second family. Third, maybe, because of Alan, but my second one here,” Conor insists. “And Emma’s dads are really nice.”

“They aren’t my dads.”

“I’m sure Colt would love to see you, too,” Leo adds.

Thanks for the gut punch.

“He says yes,” Conor says quickly. “Right dad? You say yes.”

What else is he supposed to do?

“Yes.” Pawel fishes out his phone, unlocking it and staring down. He doesn’t resist when Leo slips it from his fingers, opening up his text app and sending something.

Leo places the phone back in Pawel’s hands. “The first number is mine, the second is Colt’s. In case you don’t still have them.”

“I fried my phone and lost everything,” Pawel admits. “Back when I Emerged. So. Thank you.”

“It’s good to see you.” Leo’s touch is heavy and warm where he claps his hand against Pawel’s shoulder, then squeezes. 

Pawel could hug him, but he thinks that might be awkward. He’s never had this situation. He has three exes—two of them he hasn’t seen since they broke up, and the other one is Chelsea. Which is just complicated.

“Yeah, you too.” He watches as Leo walks away, Emma pushing the second cart beside him. Pawel wonders just how distracted Leo must feel since Jennie looks like she’s grabbing her third donut.

Or maybe that’s just how it is. Maybe he spoils his kids with plenty of sugar.

It’s not like Pawel knows anything about how Leo’s life is now.

Conor tugs sharply at Pawel’s shirt. “Dad. When are we going to dinner over at Emma’s house?”

Pawel looks down at his phone, at the new conversation sitting there. All it says is, this is Pawel.

He locks his phone and shoves it in his pocket. “I don’t know yet, but not tonight. Let’s go find that meat you wanted for the chili. Chicken might be good. We could sauté it up quickly and add it so it’ll get a couple hours in the slow cooker with the rest. Or we could cook it up with spices and add it afterwards.”

“You’re just saying that because chicken is healthy,” Conor grumbles. “I got more toaster pastries. Dziadziu lets me eat them.”

“I let you eat them, too, just possibly not in the same quantities,” Pawel protests. It’s not an argument he’s going to have right now, anyway.

He’s going to focus on finishing up the shopping, and finishing cooking dinner.

He’s going to focus on anything other than the fact that somehow both of the boys he dated in high school grew up to meet each other and end up married.

Yeah, he’s going to do his damnedest to focus on anything but that.

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