#~kei babble {ooc}~

[futurefind]

//okie dokie gn........... again ;;w;;a thank yall for ur patience if my books not getting due new contents dropping in my games and if not that works devouring my entire day so dsghdshgdsgh

[casiia]

༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; his girls.

warnings .: female reader, the SMALLEST bit of angst, just a lot of overly detailed domestic simon. baby daddy simon who is still in love with you! maybe ooc. unedited cuz :p

note .: ty baby suz for reading it over!! @dr4kenz <;33

.: masterlist.

baby daddy ! simon who walks with his daughter to school for her first day, he’s has her small disney-themed backpack tugged onto his shoulder, the straps too small and digging into his skin. but he doesn’t care. his other hand is accompanied by your daughter, her small fingers looped around only his index.

she’s babbling about random things, how excited she is to make new friends, the ladybug who landed on her shoulder and gave her good luck, how she’s going to pick out new hair clips when you take her to the mall later today.

she’s jumping around — her light-up shoes blinking wildly with every exaggerated step, and simon hovers his arm close behind her in case she slips and falls.

“you don’t have to, it’s early in the morning, and i know you’re busy,” you mumble over the phone, pressing the device between your ear and shoulder. you’re cursing softly, trying to fix up your daughter’s lunch while trying not to burn her special breakfast, the blueberry pancakes that you dyed purple with food coloring, a tradition she started when she first started pre-school. since then, as good luck, she would stuff herself with the artificially colored pancakes for the first day of school.

from the other line, simon can hear all the commotion, and he’s already slipping out of his pajamas and into warmer clothes. “how ‘bout i come over and help her get ready?” his question is more of a loose remark. he’s already heading down the stairs to slip his shoes on.

you hiss loudly, your hand brushing against the hot kettle you had put on for your cup of tea. “no, i couldn’t ask you to do that.” you set your phone down and put it on speaker, sighing loudly when the flames flicker over the pan. you had burnt her pancakes and would have to make them again. “just go back to sleep.”

“i’m already on my way,” simon grunts, the cold air slapping him in the face as he steps outside and into his car. “miss that little bug,” he utters, keeping you on the phone as he begins to drive. if he’s being honest, your frantic voice eases him a bit; it reminds him that he is still needed despite your relationship. whenever things get too rough for you, there’s not a moment of hesitation when you call him, and although you deny any attempts of his help, he knows that you’re just being stubborn. 

his drive to your place is short; he’s fishing into his pocket and pulling out the spare key you gave him. a childish giggle and tiny footsteps greet him before he can fully open the door, small arms wrapping around his leg. 

“daddy!” the young girl squeals, her arms hugging his thigh tighter as she forcefully drags him through the door. simon’s lips turn up in a soft smile, and he kicks his shoes off and picks up his daughter. “hey, kid. you givin’ mama a hard time?” 

the stubble on his chin tickles her when he presses a wet kiss to her cheek, another giggle rising from her chest. simon hoists her onto his hip, holding her close as he walks into the house to find you. 

for a moment, he watches you as you continue to busy yourself in the kitchen. pajamas loosely hanging from your body, your hair pulled into a messy bun – strands slipping from the rubberband and splaying over the nape of your neck. 

 “hey, ma.” simon greets, his voice gruff and deep from just waking up moments ago. he presses his free hand to your hip and lets his lips linger on the temple of your forehead. a sweet, friendly…good morning kiss. how he always greets his girls.

“mornin’ si.” you turn in his hold, glancing up at him in acknowledgment before you flip another large pancake. “can you get her dressed? i laid out an outfit on her bed.”

the girl squirming in simon’s arms huffs, her hands reaching out and grasping onto your loose fitted shirt – simon’s old shirt he’d left behind. “i can get dressed on my own! ‘m a big girl now.” she argues with a whine, her hands being pulled off you by simon’s calloused fingers.

“big girls don’t need hot chocolate before bed,” you say, turning to give her chubby cheeks a gentle pinch. a smile painting your lips when she pulls away, turning her face and smushing it into her father’s chest.

simon nods, and although you can’t see it now that your attention is turned back to the slightly burnt pancakes in front of you, you know he’s leaving with the way his hand falls from your hip. 

you hate the way that you’re so comfortable with him around, especially with the way your relationship with him ended. originally, simon never knew that you were pregnant. you had opted out of telling him one too many times, nerves overtaking you; the idea of being a mother alone was too much. but having to tell the man who had told you time and time again he wasn’t ready for kids, that he was to be expecting one – it made you more nauseous than the baby in your stomach.

although lucky for you, he broke up with you before you could tell him. unlucky for you, his reason for doing so was unselfish; you couldn’t find it in yourself to hold any hatred towards him. with a heavy heart, he told you things weren’t working out for him, he loved you so much, but with how busy he was at work, he found less time to see you and even less time to express his adoration.

most days when you were able to see him, it consisted of just cuddling, little words spoken except for your inquiries about his future and thoughts of having kids. he always mumbled that he didn’t have time to think about that kind of stuff, and just pull you closer to his chest, nuzzling his face into your skin and dozing off to sleep.

it didn’t bother you one bit; just being with him in his arms was enough for you.you didn’t mind that your time together was spent sleeping or sharing a quiet meal. it wasn’t fair to you, none of it was fair – but simon knew you deserved better. so he reluctantly had to break things off; it was the only thing he could think of. he didn’t know how to fix things, how to communicate that he didn’t want to be apart from you. he just didn’t have the time to be there for you at the moment, and he knew he was hurting you either way, so if you could find another to confide in, to turn your heart to, that would be enough for him. 

after years of being apart, simon found himself standing in front of your door, full gear still clinging to him tightly, his palms sweaty but hidden from his gloves. he pressed his head into your door, a frustrated groan bubbling in his aching chest. what was he thinking, showing up to your place unannounced? what if you didn’t even live here anymore? what if you had moved on and wanted nothing to do with him? 

it was selfish, but he needed to see you again. not a day went by where you weren’t on his mind, the barracks drove him to madness, and without escape, he found comfort in an old picture of you he had taken with him. 

you had opened the door after three of his hesitant knocks; confusion etched onto your face as you stared up at the masked man, his eyes familiar but looming with newfound hurt and trauma from the brutal battlefield. 

“did you need something?” you asked, the soft babbling from your television the only thing filling the air after he looked down at you in silence. just taking you in for a moment. you looked tired but beautiful as ever. your hair slightly tangled, old baggy clothes of his that hung from your smaller figure – but you still had the same friendly smile on your face, genuine and kind eyes that looked up at him.

he swallowed thickly; you looked happy. who was he to ruin that by coming back? he had come all this way without any regrets. seeing you again was all he desired. you were happy, and that’s all he needed to know; he didn’t want to know about the person who might’ve stepped in and mended your heart together after he broke it.

gripping his bag tightly, he turned, walking off without a second glance. it was time for him to move on. you had. he was a fool to think things could go back to how it had, how he could hold you so intimately in his arms, whispering in your ear how much he loved you. feeling your lips all over his skin, the way your soft hands would trail along his burning skin. he was so stupid.

“simon?” 

your voice was just barely above a whisper, and you watched with wide eyes the way he stopped in his tracks, muscles flexed under his tight-fitted uniform as he tensed. 

his heart was beating out of his chest, ringing in his ear. turning back to face you, he hooked two fingers under his balaclava and pulled it off. he hated how you looked at him, concerned, creasing your brows. you should hate him; you should be angry that he showed his face to you again. instead, you’re tracing your thumb along his scars, ones that you didn’t recognize and the faint ones that you had already seen before.

simon sighed softly under your touch, dropping his bag and wrapping his arms around you. he pressed his nose into your hair, breathing in your scent while hugging you tightly. he almost broke down when he felt your arms coil around him, pulling him closer and burying your head into his chest.

“mommy?”

just like that, simon’s world crashes down again. he pulls away from you and looks over your shoulder to see a small girl, no older than seven standing in the doorway. she was a spitting image of you, so there was no doubt that she wasn’t yours. although, in a sense, it felt like he was looking in a mirror. piercing brown eyes staring back at him with the same amount of confusion.

“we should talk, si.” you’re wrapping your hand around his wrist, gently tugging him inside. without any hesitation, he’s following close behind you. 

since then, and that very painfully confusing conversation. simon had made his way back into your life, calling every day, showing up unannounced, and accompanying you to your daughters' school events. you didn’t complain; a life without a father was a hard one. you were glad that simon was being responsible and stepping up, and you couldn’t lie; feelings from years ago still lingered, so you enjoyed that you could spend quality time with him again.

simon chuckles lowly when his daughter smushes his cheeks with her small palms, her legs kicking into his torso as he carries her into her room. setting her down on the edge of her bed, he glances at the outfit you’d picked for her – a cute, frilly, pink dress with little white sneakers and a white cardigan. 

he lets his daughter dress herself, only stepping in to help when she tries to stick her head into her sleeve. he kneels in front of her, slipping on her tiny shoes and tying the laces. kissing her knees, he pats her cheeks and fixes her dress when she jumps down and spins in a circle.

“pancakes are ready, sweetheart!” you shout from the kitchen, sliding the hotcakes onto a plate and setting it on the dining table. zipping up her lunchbox, you set it aside before grabbing two mugs and pouring tea for you and simon.

the pair hobbles into the kitchen, simon tugged along by the hyper girl. he shakes his head with a faint smile, lifting and setting her on the chair. you lean against the counter, mug in hand, while you watch as he cuts up her purple pancakes, popping a piece into his mouth and earning a loud complaint from the young girl.

you hand him the other mug filled with tea, brewed just how he likes. he grins, looking at the cup over and realizing it’s his favorite mug, one no one is allowed to drink from unless it’s him. simon leans in and kisses your cheek before leaning against the counter next to you, the two of you watching your daughter scarf down the purple pancakes like it’d be her last meal.

you lean over with a soft pout, grabbing a napkin and wiping syrup off the corner of her mouth. “are you excited for your first day of school?” 

she nods quickly, stuffing the last of her breakfast into her mouth before she leans back, patting her stomach with satisfaction. “gonna make so many new friends today,” she grins up at you with a crooked smile. 

“bet you are. we should get going. don’t wanna be late,” simon says, setting the dishes into the sink and slinging the disney-themed backpack onto his broad shoulder. 

you frown, during the midst of it all, frantic to get things done, you had completely forgotten to change or get yourself ready. you sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose. one simple mistake after another, and now you’d have to miss sending your little girl off for her first official day of school.

simon is quick to notice your mood dropping; he shuffles over to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, tilting your head up. “why don’t you rest, i’ll wake you later, and we can pick her up together.” 

you sigh, your shoulders dropping in disappointment. it was silly, but you had been with your daughter every step of the way. it wasn’t a big moment you’d be missing, but a memory nonetheless. you wanted to push yourself, rush into your room and get ready as quickly as possible so you could walk with your simon, holding hands with your daughter while she swung between the both of you. but exhaustion was creeping from your muscles and to your eyes, your eyelids struggling to stay open.

with an unwilling yawn, you nod and let simon guide you to the comfort of your bedroom.

“c’mon bug, let’s tuck mommy in for a quick nap.” simon teases, pulling the comforter back and easing you down onto the mattress. he takes a step back and helps your daughter pull the blanket back up and tuck it under your chin. 

“night, mommy. dream of sweets!” the small girl loudly shouts, afraid you won’t be able to tear her with the blanket covering your face. 

you smile at her words, turning onto your side to look at her. “thank you, baby.” 

simon brushes the hair out of your eyes, leaning down and lightly pressing his lips to your temple. he then lifts his daughter so she can do the same, finalizing your tuck in with a goodnight kiss…or a good morning one. 

“alright, let’s get you to school, kiddo.”

the sun hangs low as simon walks hand in hand with his daughter, a short walk to the school a couple of blocks away. the air was chilling, and simon had tugged off his jacket and slipped it onto the young girl, the article of clothing hanging massively on her frame, the hem almost dragging on the floor. 

he adjusted the straps of the small colorful backpack, very snug on his broad shoulder and digging into his skin – but he didn’t care; he wore it with pride.

simon’s daughters’ chatter filled the quiet streets as she rambled about her hopes for the day. her small fingers clutched her father's index finger tightly, her words a delightful mixture of innocence and imagination. 

“daddy, you know what?” she asks, her voice laced with enthusiasm. she looks up at him with a grin before her attention is quickly redirected towards a small patch of flowers, a bloom of yellow bursting in a patch of healthy green grass.

simon watches as she lets go of his hand, crouching down and picking a couple of stems, gathering a few before returning to his side. “what, sweetheart?” 

“that ladybug that landed on my shoulder yesterday said i’m going to have the best day ever today!” she exclaims, handing the crumpled bundle of probable weeds to him, brushing her damp hands on the outside of her father’s jacket.

simon chuckles lightly at her action, his hands delicately holding the array of flowers. “the ladybug said that?”

“yep!” she said, continuing to marvel at the dream that she had that night; something about mayonnaise and mustard made simon smile, her infectious energy captivating him. 

as they walked, simon took note of the new shoes you had bought your daughter, the bright light-up shoes blinking with each exaggerated step she took. she jumped around, hopping over every line on the sidewalk, claiming that they would break your back, simon didn’t understand, but he held an arm behind her in case she tumbled backward.

approaching the school gate, simon couldn’t help but feel a frown forming on his face, the memory-filled walk ending too soon. he knelt at his little girl’s eye level, pulling her closer to him. 

“have a good day, kid. if anyone gives you trouble, tell me, and i’ll get it sorted out.” he teased, although only half of him was joking. simon slipped his jacket off her and fixed her backpack onto her shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. 

“i will! give mommy those flowers when she wakes up.” she nods, glancing behind her at the many kids that walked into the gate before hugging her father quickly, stumbling out of his hold and rushing towards the school, excitement coursing through her veins.

simon wished she had stayed a little longer, hugged him a little more, and kissed him back. still, as he watched her run into school, he realized something, he was old – and that his happiness weighed out his disappointment. he might’ve been absent for the beginning chapters of her life, but this was the first big step he was here for. it made him realize how many more were to come; watching her grow up warmed his thoughts, and he could do it all by your side. just you and his daughter, his girls.

AN: i have so many parts alr written for baby daddy simon. SHOULD I MAKE THIS A SERIES, and do i name the kid...??

[sombrashe]

knives & keys ∿ internal instinct pt.1

masterlist | part 2

a season 3 rewrite where namgyu lives and decides to help junhee protect her baby

content graphic depictions of violence and death, threats, junhee & namgyu bonding, withdrawal, canon divergence, probably ooc, not edited, lowercase

note a little backstory change, namgyu doesn't eat the pill he was offering myunggi

the first thing he notices is the small jacket wrapped up in her arms. staring down at the glowing woman, no wait. her name is... what did mg coin say again? gi- junhee. the pregnant one with that old lady. he doesn't have to turn his head much. the old lady practically on top of the girl. he drops his eyes to take in the pristine dagger. such a clash against his. something thicker, dripping blood and making a dark pool by his feet. this must feel like a horror movie. the killer, tall and frenzied and the victims, small and vulnerable. he takes a small step into the room and glances down at the small dark pool soaking through the girls pants. she's bleeding out. taking another step and that old hag actually shouts at him to stay back. he laughs and waves his knife through the air as he speaks.

"A three for one deal, how exciting."

his grin is rabid, all teeth and gums as he looks down at the wiggling bundle. he pauses far enough away where they were uncomfortable but could stage a way to get out. something he doesn't realize he's doing. giving them a chance. he watches their small movements. the way they cower together, how they both instinctively put their arms around the baby. he wipes the sticky knife against his pants, green fluff sticking to the metal. pointing it at the newborn he stares directly into junhee's eyes.

"Was she supposed to protect you?"

she gives a small nod, her eyes filling with tears at the reminder of her loss.

"Have you seen The Amazing MG Coin? He's supposed to find you, right?"

"No."

it's short and definitive. he frowns and weighs his options. he couldn't leave her here alone, not when she looked so much like her. he could just kill them, get it over with quick. Two, no three, less blue vests for the reds to kill. he pats the knife against his palm. each bounce slices a fresh river in his hand. gripping the bright handle he nods down to the new mother.

"Do you know where an exit is?"

"Why? So you can kill us and guard it?"

"There's barely even five minutes left, what would I get out of that arrangement. No, protecting you gives me a much better future."

she scoffs and bares her teeth as she hunches over her baby.

"I'm not going to touch that thing, don't worry. Let's go, before someone desperate finds you."

it takes a minute but he doesn't push them. if he needed to stand watch by the door he would. anything to keep that baby alive, he needed more allies. needed someone who would get to the end. with shaky hands the old woman rises to her feet, she holds junhee behind her like he'll change his mind, lunge forward and bury the knife deep in her side. he runs his hand down his bloody face and turns his back to the dagger.

guiding them out of the room, the old lady points out the bloodstained dirt. following the smears, they soon enter a room decorated with an exit sign. staying close to the wall he watches as the old woman starts turning each key in its lock. before she can get to the last one the women both turn towards the door. whipping his head to the side, he panics as red fills his vision. he looks up and dread fills his abdomen as that old lady's son comes into focus. while they talk he slowly makes his way towards the door. he manages to squeeze himself between junhee and the old lady. his back pressed against her babbling baby. holding the knife, tight, he raises it to his waist. his stance hunched and knees bent, ready.

"You can't hurt him, you'll be eliminated."

she doesn't want to watch yongsik die, even through his threats to her life. he pauses and look back at her. this moment of reflection interrupted when he's shoved to the side. falling, he slams his head against the colorful wall. his vision blurs as he focuses on junhee attempting to protect her baby. the son is standing, talking, his knife raised like he's about to strike. he's standing when the old lady lets down her hair. he doesn't even blink before the woman is plunging her hairpiece into her son's back. he watches with barely concealed glee at the devastating scene playing out before him.

slinking behind the son with one arm out, the other grips the knife as he presses against junhee again. her soft cries vibrating up his spine as the timer clicks 00:00. the man weakly calls out for his mom as he falls to his knees. she cups his cheeks in a moment he shields junhee from, her gathering him into her arms as she cries out for the son she hasn't even lost yet. he watches, something deep stirring in the recesses of his heart. glances are exchanged between everyone as guards take aim. the old lady yells at them to take pity on her son.

dropping the knife into the dirt he turns and shields junhee fully from the gunfire that fills the room with the smell of burnt metal. cupping her, he makes sure the baby is sandwiched between them so nothing can come between them. looking back he never takes his eyes off the scene playing out behind his back. junhee on the other hand can't help but stare through the junkie, trying her hardest to figure out why exactly he's helping her.

she ends up sandwiched between mrs. jang who stares down at the floor and the junkie who keeps guard behind her back. halfway down the stairs her ankle gives out on her. a pained grunt and she's falling forward. strong hands stop her from hurting herself further. guided to sit, she hands off the baby to mrs. jang as the junkie gently raises her pant leg.

"When did this happen?"

"Before I gave birth."

"It's bad, you have to stay off your feet. Here."

he stands and helps her up. her arms wrapped around his neck while his hold her close to his hip. he slowly guides her down the stairs and through hallways until they reach that familiar green hallway with the ugly submarine door at the end. guiding her through the door he catches mg coin staring with confusion as they all walk through the oversized room with dwindling beds. helping her up and into bed he makes sure her baby is resting comfortably in her arms before feeling off. going for the cross he finds nothing but his own heartbeat resting against his clavicle. frowning he goes through his jacket, pockets and finally pulling off his jacket to, hopefully, shake the necklace into existence.

"She's just hungry."

he doesn't wait to listen to more, moving away from the new mother he walks past mg coin and up to the triangle guards standing by the door. he tries to calmly explain that he simply needs to be let through. he just forgot something, that's all. just a simple request. he shouts at the guard to let him through. his resolve quickly dwindling as the drugs slowly wear off. try to explain how he needs that cross, just give him five minutes he'll find it. lunging forward he grabs at the guards gun, them easily pushing him to the floor as they stand over him. barrel pushed inches from his cowering form. arms raised, defensively, as he refuses to look at the machine.

a few moments tick past before he's forcefully righted and shoved away from the door. stumbling, he beelines straight for that old lady and the new mother, his head kept down. by the time he reaches then pink suited guards are entering the room. taking a defensive seat on the edge of the bed, he watches warily as they congratulate everyone who survived. he listens to the baby who was finally silent as it drinks its fill. he frowns and wrings his hands together as they begin to set up for the voting process. turning back he watches as junhee adjusts herself, the old lady goes on to show her how to properly burp and swaddle her baby without help. with a tender hand he reaches out and runs them over the little ones head. junhee looks over at him, then down at his hand as she allows him these gentle touches.

"What's your name?"

the old lady asks softly as she watches his shaky hands attempt to stay still. he yanks them back and presses his thumb into his palm before closing his fist around it. she tilts her head waiting for an answer.

"Nam-gyu."

"Nam-gyu. I'm Jang Geum-ja, and this is-."

"Jun-hee."

everyone pauses and looks down at him. he keeps his eyes forward, scanning the room. he doesn't want to explain himself, tell them he knew she was pregnant before she even joined a team. he just wanted to get rid of this feeling deep inside of him, needed to remove it. protect that baby and it's mother at all costs even if it meant his death. the guards dim the lights and he lifts his head enough to glance at the piggybank hovering out of reach. he doesn't pay attention to which number is called, simply absorbing information until his body feels the pull to vote.

he's only the fifth person to go and it shows with how little votes for leaving there is. he prays that more people will want to leave, give everyone here a real chance at living. wiping flecks of blood off his clothes he watches as the voting board clicks up as minsu votes to stay. if he wasn't so warm he would have thought about that a little longer. instead he turns around to watch as mrs. jang goes on to cry and beg for junhee and her baby to be let out. the rest of the votes are met with quiet sobbing as mrs. jang kneels on the floor, devastated. once the voting is completed he absentmindedly walks up to junhee, using his dwindling strength he helps her to bed.

he can feel eyes on him but he doesn't care, especially not when mg coin and junhee shared such a intimate stare. he chews on his bottom lip and thinks back to all the information he's gathered about her. he'll sit on the floor closest to junhee and be able to better protect despite the exhaustion settling in his bones. glancing around the room, he blinks rapidly before settling in on minsu. he spends a moment removing some hair from junhees eyes. she furrows her brows at him but doesn't immediately slap him away. when she does finally smack his hand away he's giving her a giddy laugh. moving his hands in the air he points to her chest.

"Is it weird? To feed a baby?"

"Don't ask me that."

"Come on, I'm just trying to make conversation."

"No you're being a freak."

he groans and rolls his eyes, pointing at her he purses his lips.

"You're just all hormonal. That's how my sister was when she gave birth."

"You have a sister?"

"Had."

"It was just you two?"

"My dad probably has more kids but I haven't seen him since... I think I was seven when he left."

he shrugs and chews on the nail of his thumb. she smiles, a soft sadness.

"I was seven when my mom died. Ten when my dad left."

"I could have guessed that. Pregnant at twenty-five in a death game. You had to have come from fucked up beginnings."

she scoffs and slams her fist into his shoulder. the baby coos and she holds it closer to her chest. making small noises to calm it down. mrs. jang interrupts their conversation with boiled potatoes. she hands them off and he weighs one in his hand. taking both he places them into junhees container. instead he sips on the water despite the overwhelming thirst burning at his throat. he was coming down much too quickly.

"I'm sorry, it's all because of me."

he looks over to see tears fall down junhees chubby cheeks. his heart beats loudly in his ears and thinks about getting up and leaving. instead he stays seated and watches the short conversation between junhee and mrs. jang. during their conversation he winds up on the floor, chin resting on his knees as he takes another sip of water. he collects their trash and discards it. taking a moment to think on his own before joining them. settling back on the floor, mrs. jang is gently running her nails through junhees hair. watching them he can feel his sister's fake acrylics running down his scalp. once the lights start going down is when he struggles to stay awake. the dull glow of the bank keeps him relaxed drifting off. he watches through blurry eyes as mrs. jang gets out of bed and pad silently over to that nutjob 456. he doesn't hear much of their conversation before darkness overtakes him and he falls asleep curled into a ball on the floor.

taglist @namgyucat

[mrs-dr-reid]

Betting on the Right Horse

Chapter One: A Goodbye Brings A Hello

Chapter Summary: Reader goes back to Horseshoe Ridge, Colorado after many years away for her uncle Jason Gideon’s funeral, and she learns that while she is the main beneficiary and inheritor of his horse ranch, she has shared ownership with Spencer Reid: her uncle’s protegée, and she’s PISSED.

Word Count: 4013

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, tw death/funerals, tw grief, tw food/eating/drinking, Spencer Reid being a little bit of an OOC asswagon (unless you're familiar with the dilaudid arc), Reader being a teensy bit entitled

A/N: Ayyyyy, welcome to my first slow burn AU series! A big shout out to all my fellow writers in the discord server I’m in for helping me outline this series and figure out the plot (and also letting me yell at them about this fic in general)!

———————————————————————

I honestly couldn’t believe it when I got the call. I was just getting home from work when a number I didn’t recognize showed up on my screen, and when I answered, it was my Uncle Jason’s friend Dave (who I vaguely remembered from when I was younger) telling me that he passed away the night prior due to heart failure. I almost dropped everything onto the floor of my apartment, because I hadn’t talked to Uncle Jason in a while, and now he’s gone and I’ll never get another chance.

Dave told me all of the details for Uncle Jason’s funeral, then offered his condolences before hanging up, and I had to go sit down and collect my thoughts and feelings. I practically grew up on Uncle Jason’s horse ranch, Sparrow Creek, and it was one of my favorite places in the whole world, especially the little town of Horseshoe Ridge, Colorado where it was located and all the people in it, and now I regret not going to visit as much once I went off to college.

I immediately called my boss and told her I’d be taking the next few days off to go to the funeral, even though it was VERY last minute. Thankfully, she was very understanding and told me to take as much time as I needed (something about a bereavement period, I honestly don’t know what she said after she told me it was okay for me to take off work because I couldn’t hear her over the blood rushing in my ears). After I hung up, I dragged my suitcase out of the hallway closet and started packing while simultaneously booking the first flight out to Colorado I could find on my laptop. I dug around in my closet and found my old riding boots, and was happy to discover that they still fit, so I stuck them in my suitcase just in case there was an opportunity to go riding while I was out there.

Once my suitcase and my carry-on bag were packed, I grabbed my keys, shut off my lights, and then headed back out to my car and to the airport, where I was thankfully able to get some work done on my laptop while waiting for my flight so I wasn’t atrociously behind once I got back. Once I landed at the Denver airport, I ordered an Uber to take me to the ranch, and after I was dropped off, a wave of nostalgia washed over me as I looked up at the wrought iron gate with the logo of a sparrow flying over a babbling brook branded into it.

A taller Asian man in a cowboy hat, worn-out jeans, scuffed-up boots, and a button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows saw me standing there as he walked by and called out, “Can I help you, Ma’am?”, so I snapped out of my reverie and said, “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’m Y/N L/N, Jason Gideon’s niece. I’m here for the funeral this weekend?”, which made him say, “Wait, Y/N/N? It’s me, Matt!”, as he walked over to me. My jaw dropped open and I said, “Matt Simmons?! No way, how are you?”, as I let him pull me into a hug (I taught him how to ride equestrian style when we were kids).

He said, “I’m good! Gideon hired me as a ranch hand a few years ago, I got married a little bit after that, and we’ve got two boys with twin girls on the way,” which made my eyebrows fly up to my hairline before I said, “Wow. You’ve been busy,” making him chuckle and say, “Yeah, I guess I have. Anyways, I’m sorry for your loss. Gideon was a good man, and it was an honor working for him,” the conversation suddenly turning serious.

I let out a melancholy sigh and said, “Yeah, he was the best. A teensy bit eccentric, but I’m gonna miss him. I regret not coming to visit for so long now that he’s gone,” tears starting to well up in my eyes. Matt rubbed my arm comfortingly, then said, “Well, I should probably bring your stuff to your old room, then maybe I can give you a tour? A lot of stuff has changed since the last time you were in town,” so I wiped my eyes, put on the closest thing to a smile I could muster, and said, “Yeah, I’d like that,” before following him up the path to the ranch house.

Once my stuff was situated in the room I always stayed in when I came to visit (it hadn’t changed at all since I was here last), Matt showed me around the ranch and pointed out everything that had changed, and I had to admit it looked amazing. The stables had been extended within the last year to make room for more horses, a horseshoe of cabins had been added to the west side of the property to accommodate dude ranch guests, the training arena and paddock had doubled in size, and the stalls themselves had been updated to be a bit bigger and more comfortable for the horses.

We circled back to the stables just as another darker-skinned man (also in a cowboy hat) came trotting over to us on a beautiful Tovero Paint, and he said, “Hey, Matt! Who’s the lady?”, as he dismounted. Matt said, “Hey, Luke. This is Y/N L/N, Gideon’s niece. Y/N, this is Luke Alvez, one of the ranch hands, and this is Raven, one of our newer mares,” while gesturing to each of them. I stroked her nose and said, “She’s beautiful. Are all of the horses still named after birds?”, so Luke chuckled and replied, “Oh yeah, that’s never going to change. And I don’t know if you remember the town lawyer Hotch, but he just inherited his dad’s old ranch a couple of years ago, and his wife secretly named all of the horses after fictional lawyers,” which made me burst out laughing before I said, “Oh my god, really?!”

Matt let out a snort before he said, “Yup. And he only figured it out a month ago, because Emily’s horse misbehaved and she accidentally said, ‘Miss Elle Woods, you should be ashamed of yourself!’, in front of him,” which only made me laugh harder. Luke said, “At least we don’t name them after different types of pasta like Rossi does,” making me say, “Oh, I would constantly be hungry if I was over there,” earning nods of agreement from the men and a whinny from Raven. I turned to Matt and said, “Are Nelson and Chickadee still around? They were my favorites when I was younger,” so he nodded and said, “Yep. They mostly do trail rides for the less experienced riders nowadays, but they’re still here. Wanna go see them?”, which made a giant grin spread across my face before I said, “Yes!”, and Matt lead me to their stalls after we bid our goodbyes to Luke and Raven.

I approached Nelson first, and I said, “Hey, Big Guy! I’m not sure if you remember me, but I certainly remember you!”, while holding out my hand for him to sniff. He snorted happily and nuzzled against my hand once I started scratching his nose, and Matt said, “I think he remembers you,” which made me smile while I continued stroking him. Chickadee huffed indignantly from her stall, so I walked over to her and said, “Oh, I’d never forget about you, Pretty Girl!”, as she nuzzled my hand in a very self-satisfied manner.

Matt said, “There are a couple more horses that weren’t here last time if you wanted to meet them too,” which made me shoot him a look before I jokingly said, “I can’t believe you’d ever think I didn’t want to meet a new horse,” earning me a playful eye-roll from Matt before I was introduced to his horse, Robin the Clydesdale, and the rest of the trail horses: Puffin the Norwegian Fjord, Starling the Tennessee Walking Horse, Eagle the Off The Track Thoroughbred, and Falcon the Hanoverian. We exited the stables, and Matt said, “Well, you probably want to try and settle in before the funeral tomorrow, so I’m gonna get back to work,” so I nodded and said, “Yeah, yeah, definitely. See you tomorrow, and thanks again for the tour,” which made him tip his hat at me with a wink before walking off.

When I made it back to my room, I flopped onto the bed and had to take a breather. I tried to settle my mind by unpacking my bags and hanging my clothes up in the closet to get some of the wrinkles out (fingers crossed), but then I saw a picture of me at age 11 sitting on Nelson’s back and Uncle Jason holding the reigns and smiling up at me proudly, and tears instantly came to my eyes. I grabbed the picture frame off of the dresser, and I whispered, “I’m gonna miss you, Uncle Jason. I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch,” before setting it back down and getting out my phone to order dinner. I quickly figured out DoorDash wasn’t really a thing in Horseshoe Ridge, but thankfully I remembered that Uncle Jason kept a whole drawer of delivery menus next to the fridge. Once that was squared away, I got into my pajamas, ate my dinner once it arrived, and then called it a night.

At the funeral, I sat next to Matt and his family since I didn’t know anybody else there, and listened with tears in my eyes as Dave gave the eulogy. I was invited up to say a few words, so I kept it short and sweet (mostly to avoid crying in front of a room full of strangers) and said, “My Uncle Jason was one of the best people I’ve ever known. As Dave said, he was selfless, intelligent, and had one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. He’ll be dearly missed, and I sincerely regret not coming to visit more often,” before nodding in thanks and sitting back down, Matt rubbing my shoulder encouragingly as I did so.

At the reception, I was making small talk with the perky blonde woman Luke introduced to me as his girlfriend Penelope when Matt came up to us and said, “Hey, Y/N/N! I wanted to introduce you to Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is Y/N L/N, Gideon’s niece,” and then I looked at who he’d gestured to, and my heart skipped a beat because I was looking at a man at least 6 inches taller than me in a well-tailored suit with wild brown curls, stubble decorating his jaw in a way that somehow didn’t look disheveled, and honey brown eyes that made me feel like I was going to melt into the floor. I was broken out of my reverie when the man said, “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Gideon talked about you a lot,” but he didn’t stick out a hand to shake.

I shrugged it off as some germaphobe thing, then I said, “It’s nice to meet you as well, Spencer. How did you know my uncle?”, and he replied, “He guest lectured at my university a lot, and I’d always wanted to be a cowboy growing up, so once I graduated, he took me under his wing and showed me the ins and outs of running a ranch. He even made me the foreman a couple of years back,” making me nod understandingly. A thought occurred to me, and I said, “I’m sorry, Matt said you were a doctor, but you don’t look that much older than me. Are you some kind of genius or something?”, which made him shove his hands into his pockets and say, “I have three Ph.D’s in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. I also have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and I can read 20,000 words per minute, so yes, I guess I’m what is considered to be a genius,” in a tone that could be easily interpreted as nonchalant or arrogant.

I decided to go with the first option and say, “Impressive. Anyways, it was really nice to meet you, but you’ll have to excuse me. I need a refill and a snack,” while holding up my nearly empty wine glass in a pointed way. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he said, “Likewise,” before nodding and wandering off. I smiled in a confused manner as I watched him go, then said, “He’s… peculiar. I can see why Uncle Jason liked him,” which made Matt let out a snort and say, “He’s one of the only people who could beat him at chess. Besides you and Rossi, of course,” earning an eye roll and a playful shoulder shove from me.

After I’d obtained my second glass of wine (or maybe third? I’m not 100% sure), a tall dark-haired man approached me and said, “Miss L/N? Could I borrow a few minutes of your time?”, so I nodded and said, “Of course,” while quickly scouting out a place to set my glass. The man continued, “My name is Aaron Hotchner, but most people call me Hotch. I’m the town lawyer here in Horseshoe Ridge, and I worked very closely with your uncle for many years,” and held out a hand to shake. I fought to contain a snort when I remembered what Luke and Matt told me about the horses at his ranch, and I shook his hand while saying, “Nice to put a face to the name,” which made him crack a smile before saying, “I was wondering if you’d be able to come by my office tomorrow morning for the reading of your uncle’s will,” and a chill ran down my spine momentarily before I nodded curtly and said, “Yeah, absolutely,” hoping Hotch didn’t notice.

He eyed me with a touch of concern for a few seconds, then reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me while saying “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Ten thirty. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to locate the partners in crime that are my wife and son,” before nodding and trotting into the other room, and I could barely hear him call, “Emily! Jack!”, as he disappeared. I tucked the card into my purse after looking it over for a moment, then wandered back to where Matt was sitting with his (very pregnant) wife, Kristy, and their two sons, David and Jake. I said, “I’m gonna head back to the ranch, okay?”, while gesturing towards the door of the funeral home, so Matt nodded and said, “Do you need a ride?”, which made me shake my head and say, “No, Luke gave me the keys for the truck because he’s riding back with Penelope. Thank you, though,” before smiling at him, extending a quick “nice to meet you” to Kristy and the boys, and leaving.

The next day, I arrived at Hotch’s office at the same time as Spencer, and I started to ask, “What are you do-...?”, but then it hit me and I smacked myself on the head before saying, “I’m such an idiot. Of course Uncle Jason would have left you something, you worked with him for how many years?”, which made Spencer chuckle slightly and say, “Five years, three months, and fourteen days. But who’s keeping track? And I totally get your confusion. You’ve known him your whole life, it makes barely any sense for me to be here,” relief flooding through my body that he wasn’t offended.

He opened the door to the building for me, and I went up to the front desk to talk to the receptionist. I said, “Hi, we’re here for a meeting with Hotch?”, so the woman typed something on her computer and said, “Yep, he’ll be ready for you in about fifteen minutes,” with a big smile on her face. I thanked her quietly, then sat down in the waiting room next to Spencer, and it was quiet for a while, him fiddling with his jacket sleeves and me tapping on my legs to the tune of “Sweet Caroline”.

I finally broke the silence and asked, “Where are you from?”, which startled him before he cleared his throat and said, “Vegas. I moved out here the second I turned eighteen, though. You?”, so I replied, “Boulder, about an hour west of here. I moved to Chicago for college, though, then got a full-time job a little while after I graduated, so I didn’t get the chance to come visit as often as I would have liked,” making him nod understandingly. He asked, “What was your major?”, and I said, “Finance with a hospitality minor. I’ve been an accountant for about four years now,” earning an impressed nod from him. I almost said something else, but the receptionist called out, “Dr. Reid and Miss L/N?”, so the two of us stood up, and she led us back to Hotch’s office.

The receptionist poked her head in the door and said, “Your ten-thirty is here, Hotch,” and I heard his deep voice reply, “Thank you, Elle. Send them in,” before she opened the door a bit more, smiled at us, then trotted back to the front desk, where I could vaguely hear the phone ringing. Hotch adjusted his reading glasses, then gestured for us to sit down, so I took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, Spencer following suit. Hotch folded his hands on his desk, then said, “Thank you both for coming. Shall we get started?”, making Spencer and I look at each other before looking back at Hotch and nodding our assent.

Hotch pulled a fairly small packet of paper out of a manilla envelope, then began to read out loud: “The last will and testament of Jason Benjamin Gideon. I, Jason Gideon, hereby bequeath Chickadee the Appaloosa horse to my beloved niece, Ms. Y/N M/N L/N, for she was always her favorite,” which made me smile, because Chickadee was, in fact, my favorite horse at Sparrow Creek. Hotch continued reading, “I also bequeath Nelson the American Quarter Horse to my protegée, Dr. Spencer Walter Tristan Reid, so that he may continue to work on his horse riding skills with a trusted partner,” and the corner of Spencer’s mouth quirked up at that sentiment.

Then Hotch got to the part I was most interested in; namely, who got the ranch. He read, “Now, the subject of my most beloved estate, Sparrow Creek, and its accompanying businesses and assets,” then he hesitated and looked up at the two of us with what I swear was nervousness in his eyes, but I disregarded it and leaned forward in my seat slightly. Hotch took a deep breath, then continued, “I, Jason Gideon, hereby leave Sparrow Creek and all equity involved to my beloved niece, Ms. Y/N M/N L/N, but only under these conditions,” which made me wrinkle my eyebrows and make eye contact with Spencer, who looked just as confused as I did.

Then Hotch said what was probably the worst thing I’ve heard since I was informed of Uncle Jason’s passing: “Ms. L/N must remain at Sparrow Creek full-time for an entire year, and work alongside Dr. Reid on a day-to-day basis to ensure the prosperity of the ranch. If these conditions are not met, Sparrow Creek and all its equity will pass in full to my protegée, Dr. Spencer Walter Tristan Reid,” and my jaw just about hit the floor in indignance. Hotch set the packet of paper on his desk and looked up at us without saying anything, and all I could hear was my own heartbeat pounding in my ear. Spencer said, “That’s it?”, and Hotch confirmed, “That’s it. Anything you need me to clarify?”, which made me stand up and storm out of his office, steam practically pouring out of my ears.

Once I made it outside, I started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, and I’m sure it was quite the scene for any pedestrians who happened to be walking by. A stream of obscenities came out of my mouth in an enraged mutter as I attempted to calm myself down, but when Spencer emerged from the building, my rage boiled over and before he could finish saying, “What happened back there?”, I screamed, “What in the actual FUCK WAS HE THINKING?!?!”, which made him fall silent and stare at me like I’d just grown two extra heads.

I rambled, “My entire life, Uncle Jason told me that one day I’d be in charge of Sparrow Creek, and that it would be the greatest joy of his life to hand it down to someone who truly loved the family business. Now he decides that some random city boy he’s only known for five years gets the whole kit and caboodle if I screw the pooch?! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!”, getting angrier and angrier until it exploded out of me and I kicked the first solid object I saw (which happened to be a metal trash can that made a loud reverberating sound like a gong when the reinforced toe of my boot made contact with it) before I continued pacing.

Spencer’s face hardened, and then he said, “Maybe he thought since you weren’t around enough, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Maybe he was giving you one last chance to prove yourself, and he was making sure the ranch would pass on to someone who knew what they were doing in case you couldn’t take the heat,” which made me stop dead in my tracks, and slowly turn towards him while saying, “What the hell did you just say to me?”, a deadly chill in my voice that even scared me a little.

Spencer stiffened a little bit, then leaned forward slightly so he was all up in my face (asshole) and said, “Gideon put safeguards in place to make sure someone competent gets the ranch if you fuck up, Princess,” which made my nostrils flare before I snapped, “Don’t call me that,” and glared at him. After a momentary stare-down between the two of us, I rolled my eyes and said, “Whatever. I have to go, I gotta make a few calls before my flight back to Chicago tomorrow night,” while starting to walk back to the pick-up truck I borrowed from the ranch.

Spencer called out, “Awww, throwing in the towel before you even start the race, Princess?”, and the holier-than-thou tone of his voice made me want to punch his lights out, but I composed myself, plastered on a sickly sweet smile, then turned around to face him before saying, “Oh no. I hate to disappoint you, but I’m only going back to pack up my stuff, sublet my apartment, and put in a request for indefinite remote assignments from my accounting firm before renting a U-Haul and coming right back here. If you think for even one millisecond that I’m not gonna fight tooth and nail for something I’ve been waiting my entire life for? Then you better hold onto your ass with both hands, Einstein,” and if only I had a photographic memory to keep the way his smug smile dropped off his face in my brain forever.

I scrunched my nose at him the way the mean girls did in early 2000s movies, then said, “Better get a calendar and pen ready, Doc,” before sarcastically blowing him a kiss, climbing into the truck, and starting the drive back to the ranch. I caught a glimpse of him standing dumbfounded on the sidewalk in the rearview mirror, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, because I was going to make Dr. Spencer Reid regret ever underestimating me, and have a smile on my face the entire time I did so.

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next chapter

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