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[bexo-tic]

Breath Play - Spencer Reid X Reader

Spencer Reid X Reader Slow Burn

Season 10 Episode 17

Word Count: 3234

 The sound of heels clicking overwhelms my senses. I can’t believe I’m here, in the BAU office. Sure, I’ve been here plenty of times during my childhood to visit my uncle, but this time I came to work. My heartbeat slows as I take in the familiar smell of coffee brewing. It’s almost nostalgic, reminding me of the times I’d surprise Uncle Aaron with a visit. My heart aches a little as I think of Aunt Haley, but I push the thoughts from my mind. This is my first day and I need everything to be perfect. 

“Y/N,” he smiles warmly as I peek my head into his office. I hadn’t seen Aaron since I left for college, I was too busy working on my degrees. We still called once a week, and that is why it didn’t feel forced or awkward to slide into conversation with him after 8 years.

“Well, everyone is at the table because we have a new case, I can introduce you there.” He leads me out of his office and into a small room filled with only a round table and a screen where the team waits. Their presence makes me nervous. They have all this experience with their job and probably only remember me as Aaron’s little niece if they remember me at all. 

“Team, we have a new intern, Y/N Y/L/N. She’s my niece on Haley’s side.” He clears his throat after mentioning her and I can tell he isn’t as over it as everyone would assume. “This is Derek Morgan, Kate Calahan, Jennifer Jereau, David Rossi, and Spencer Reid. And our Tech Analyst Penelope Garcia.”

“Save the pleasantries, Aaron. She knows me,” David says as he gets up to hug me. The smell of his cologne fills my lungs, but not in an overbearing way. He cups my face in his hands. “You’re all grown up; it’s hard to believe.”

“I don’t think I believe it yet either,” I laugh as I sit down and he goes back to his seat. 

“I hate to interrupt the joy, but we need to get to Wisconsin, also known as the lovely badger state, home of milk and cheese,” Penelope says. She goes into explaining the case and how the bodies of 3 women had been discovered as late as this morning. I tense my body to keep from shivering at the sight of their photos. 

That might be the part that always gets to me, seeing the photos of the victims happy and smiling. I can’t imagine their faces once they realized what was going to happen to them. I watch as they discuss the case, their energy, and ideas building off each other. It happens so smoothly and effortlessly like they aren’t talking about murders. But to them this is normal, maybe they’re a little desensitized to it. 

“Whether he knows the victims or not, he’s hit his stride and he’s not gonna take time to cool off. Wheels up in 30,” Aaron says, distracting me from my thoughts. I grab the “go bag” I left in my uncle’s office which is better described as a suitcase on the edge of exploding. It was my first trip and I didn’t know how long we’d stay so I panic-packed what was probably too much clothing. As I leave the office I bump into something hard. I look up and see Derek.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry. I didn’t even look and-” He holds up a hand to stop my rambling.

“It’s fine, it takes more than a suitcase to knock me down,” he says with a smile. I let out a relieved sigh and he continued talking.

“Rossi says you’re fresh out of college. What degrees do you have?”

“I have a Ph.D. in Psychology and a Masters in Criminal Justice.”

“And you’re how old?”

“26, I just took a lot of summer classes,” I shrug.

“Sounds a little like Reid,” he laughs. “Real smart guy, been here since he was 24. He graduated high school at 12.” I feel my jaw open and quickly try to close it. 

“That’s um- wow.” 

“Insane, I know. Let me help you get to the jet.”

“Yeah, thanks. I was going to ask my uncle where to go.”

“So is having Hotch as an uncle the same as having him as a boss?”

“Mm, I’d say yeah. He’s pretty reserved, but once you’ve known him long enough you can read him like a book. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to you, it’s more like he’s too busy thinking to remember to talk to you.”

“Sounds about right,” he chuckles. “Set your bag here and just through that door is the jet.”

“Oh, thanks again for showing me.”

“No problem, Y/N.” He walked onto the plane. It felt strange hearing him call me by my first name when everyone else was referred to by their last name. But maybe I was reading too much into it. It was my first day and we couldn’t have made a bond as he had with everyone else in the 5-minute walk to the jet. I took a deep breath to calm my thoughts and walked through the door.

Already they were discussing the case again. Hearing them bounce ideas off each other and analyze was almost comforting if you forgot they were talking about a murderer. Their dynamic was so in tune like they all held the same vibration. Part of me didn’t want to speak and mess up the flow of the conversation. 

“Alright Dave and Reid, go to the Medical Examiner with Em. Morgan and Kate go to the newest crime scene. JJ and I will interview friends and family at the station,” Aaron announced. My fingertips began to tingle with anticipation. This is happening! A part of me was excited to be here. I’d always admired my uncle when I was younger for putting away the bad guys and here I was beside him. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I tried desperately to calm down. It was my first case and I was determined not to mess this up. I didn’t want Aaron thinking I couldn’t handle this and sending me home, so I was determined to keep a calm demeanor. 

<<< >>>

“Cartilage around the windpipe was damaged, but the COD was actually a crushed trachea,” the examiner says as he leads us to the victims’ bodies. 

“I’m surprised Emma didn’t go into cardiac arrest before then,” Spencer says, looking back at me and David. I nod in agreement because I don’t have anything to counter with. I question why Aaron even sent me with them to the M.E. when I don’t have enough experience to be much help here.

“Nobody has sex for 6 straight hours, not even sting,” David says, pulling my attention back to the report. That’s where it should be. “Maybe he’s interacting with them beforehand.”

“Nonetheless, it’s an endurance test. He’d have to be in pretty great physical shape,” Spencer says. I try to form my own ideas as they talk, to just bring something to the table and not feel like I’m useless and watching from the sidelines. 

“Well, do you think strangulation is just the dispatching method, then?” David asks.

“Erotic asphyxiation,” I call from behind them. They both turn to look at me and I feel my heart move up my throat. “I mean, the bruising from repeated strangling and releasing is similar to that.”

“If that’s the case, isn't the pleasure usually all for the recipient?”

“Maybe not for him,” Spencer answers. “Cutting off his victim’s air supply might be how he satisfies his own urges.” 

I sigh, I might have just contributed something. I don't want them to think I can’t do anything to help. My eyes wander to the other victims. She has the same bruising as the other victim except her hair is blonde, Donna Rayburn. She almost looks like me, but her eyes are blue, not the dark brown I got from my dad. Noticing all our similarities makes me itch and I feel exposed. I jump when a hand touches my back.

“Hey, we’re heading back to discuss everything with the team,” David says. “Are you alright?”

I can feel Spencer’s eyes burning into me from behind, he’s not very good at acting like he isn’t listening to our conversation. I can’t help but wonder if he thinks I’m even qualified to be here; his intelligence is a little intimidating. He could probably profile circles around me.

“I’m fine, just nervous. First day jitters,” I smile in what I hope is a convincing way. David leads me to the car and I sit in the back on the way to the station. Looking out the window keeps me distracted and I let my mind wander. I wonder how the people who live here feel about the news. Everyone says “It could never happen here”, but somehow it always does.

“Six hours is a long time, especially late at night, for someone to be held and no one to hear anything,” Aaron says as David, Spencer and I make it to the table. Again they delved into a conversation trying to connect the victims. So far, the only thing they had in common was their interactions with the unsub. After what seemed like hours of discussion, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and got up to find coffee. 

I found my way to a small kitchen with two coffee pots in it. I grabbed a guest mug and poured in the steaming liquid, leaving enough room for the cream and sugar packets on the counter. A voice behind me makes me jump.

“Did you know Hawaii is the only state in the U.S. that grows coffee?” I turn and find Spencer standing there with his thermos in his hands.

“Um no?”

“Yeah, the ideal coffee growing conditions require high altitudes, rich soil, and tropical climates.”

“Do you start every conversation off with facts?” I ask with a laugh.

“Mostly,” he smiles. “Oh, and I wouldn’t drink that coffee if I were you. Hotch just said we’re heading back to the hotel and regrouping in the morning.” 

I checked the time on my phone, 11:33 PM. No wonder I was so tired, with the jet ride and busy day we had. The ride to the hotel felt like it lasted a few minutes, so I must have dozed off in the car. Aaron handed me the key to my room which I shared with JJ. I barely had time to shower before I fell asleep in the white sheets of the bed.

<<< >>>

I couldn’t believe the unsub killed again last night. I knew he would kill again, but it didn’t feel right that I hadn’t noticed. How did we all fall asleep so easily when the murderer we were trying to find had claimed a new victim? And here I was walking around Lynn Boyd’s house as everyone scurried around for evidence. I find my way into her bedroom.

“The bindings, the silk scarf, the rough sex. He’s using ‘Bare Reflections’ to choose his victims,” Rossi says. Finally, another step forward. Last night we concluded the unsub would be a married man, but it didn’t give us much to go off of. A call to Garcia would help us understand more.

‘If this book is mainstream, then his victim pool is large.”

“Garica, did any of the other victims besides Lynn own a copy?” JJ asks.

“Mary Healy had it on her tablet. Donna Rayburn checked it out from the library twice. Emma and Lynn both purchased copies locally.”

Although the book tied our victims together, who even knew how many other married women in the comfort zone owned the book as well. The list of possible targets would be too long to help us tie it back to the unsub.

“And- hey, a lot of the saucy texts are direct quotes from the book,” Garcia says. “Oh! Speaking of texts, I culled them from that he met Mary via message board, Donna at a coffee shop, Emma at the gym, and Lynn, he met Lynn using a fake profile on a discreet dating website for married people.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Rossi said, ending the call.

“Profile?” JJ asked. He nodded in response. The ride back to the station passed in a blink. Maybe it was the satisfaction I was feeling. My fingertips tingled because we were so close to finally catching this guy.

“Based on area demographics, we believe that we’re looking for a physically fit white male in his mid-30s to early 40s,” Aaron starts.

“He’s a homicidal dominant with an interest in role-play,” Callahan continues. They build off each other so smoothly, and the rest of the team keeps it going.

“We believe his charisma has allowed him to latch onto women who are interested in a popular erotic romance novel called ‘Bare Reflections’.”

“In it, a sheltered female teacher falls for a handsome mogul with a dark past who forces her into a submissive role.”

“Despite her initial worries, Amber Stone finds she can’t live without Carson Bare, warts and all.”

“We believe the unsub and his victims are consensually recreating a scenario from this book.”

“In that scene, Carson introduces Amber to BDSM by binding her to a bed as they have rough sex.”

“The unsub uses this role play to get his victims into a vulnerable position before his fantasy takes hold.”

”This has provided the unsub with a victim pool who have dropped their guard.” 

“His first victims were single, but his last two were married. This escalation indicates that he may be married himself and probably has a family.”

“This unsubs M.O. takes patience and caution, and is firmly rooted in a need-based desire, which means he won’t be stopping anytime soon. Thank you.” Aaron says, ending the profile presentation. I look back at the crime scene photos trying to piece together the puzzle. I notice Reid quickly skimming through the pages of “Bare Reflections”. 

“Are you even reading it?” I ask.

“I can read 20,000 words per minute, so yes.” He doesn't even have to look up when he responds.

“Robot,” I say under my breath as I roll my eyes, but from his smirk, I can tell he heard me.

“There’s not a single mention of erotic asphyxiation anywhere,” he says as Rossi and a detective approach us.

“It’s the unsub’s fetish then.” Rossi’s brows furrow. 

“He’s a charmer that knows that some people lose themselves in the moment and others stop at nothing to please their partners,” my thoughts come out loud as I walk towards them. “Somehow he makes his victims feel safe enough to abandon their hard limit.”

“What’s a hard limit?” the detective asks.

“It’s a common BDSM practice. Hard limits are anything that’s an automatic no-go. It differs by person and taste,” Rossi states.

“And a soft limit is an in which a submissive hesitates or places strict conditions on,” Reid pipes up.

“I had no idea that world had so many regulations. Where does he find somebody like-minded?”

“In “Bare Reflections”, Carson Bare takes Amber to an event called a munch.”

“Which is?”

“According to the book, it’s a social gathering for people interested in BDSM.”

“Where the heck do you find that?”

“We should call Garcia.” Reid nods at Rossi.

“I found one,” he says, showing his simple google search. While Rossi and Callahan go to the munch, the rest of us stay behind to go over the case files.

<<< >>>

“He knew crossing state lines would make it more difficult to link the crimes,” Aaron says about the three prostitute murders Garcia has just brought up. 

“That’s a very different cooling-off period. I wonder what was so special about those dates,” Detective Pierce questions. Reid grabs an expo marker and turns to the nearest board.

“First kills were in 2000, 2007, and then he went dormant until last year. What triggers him?” He writes all the dates on the board.

“Deaths in the family,” Aaron asks.

“He could keep losing jobs?”

“These are sex crimes so what interferes with sex drive? Children,” Callahan offers. “The addition of a child would disrupt even the happiest of couples.”

“More specifically the births,” Reid nods and you can see the gears in his head turning. “What if each of these kills corresponds to the births of the unsub’s own children?”

“Garcia, how many men in the hunting zone had a child in 2000?”

“16 and because I already know what the follow-up question is going to be, 5 had their second child 8 years ago, and two had their third last year.”

“Were either one of them busted for something like peeping or exposure?” I ask.

“Yes and no, there's a Patrick Jon Murphy. He’s a physical therapist, here’s the thing he was never actually arrested. I do have some sealed family court docs, though, that I’m about to unseal and learn … Oh, when he was 12, he witnessed his neighbor strangle his wife to death in a sex game gone bad.”

“Even though he was only a witness, that moment created a single event imprint on his love map and probably started his interest in breath play.”

“Is his wife interested in BDSM?”

“Uh, no, doesn’t look like it. The Murphy’s have been in and out of couple’s therapy for years.”

“The therapy roller coaster may have been due to intermittent periods of frustration then bliss surrounding the murders.”

“And his urges increase during periods of non-intimacy.”

“If the unsub’s trigger was the birth of his kids, why change the victimology and accelerate the kills now?” I ask.

“I think the guilt he’s felt has been alleviated by ‘Bare Reflections’, and the intense female interest in it has justified his impulses,” Reid answers. Our phones beep as Garcia sends us his address and we race out the door. His house isn’t even that far from the station, it’s crazy that he’s been under our noses the whole time. JJ and Reid come out of the house looking defeated.

“He’s at the nanny’s house, we’ve gotta move!” We don't even have time to buckle up before we're barreling down the road. When we arrive at the house I can see a girl standing at the front door. 

"You two take the front of the house, I'm going around back," Morgan declares. I can see him run after the unsub on foot as Callahan grabs the girl inside the house. That must be his daughter. The rest of us storm inside, clearing each room as we make our way through the house. Calls from upstairs lead us into the bedroom where we find a woman tied to her bed. Immediately we untie her as a medic comes in to check her out.

<<<   >>>

“So, how was your first case?” Aaron asks as he sits across from me on the jet.

“Um, intense,” I nod and he laughs. “But I really enjoyed helping solve it.”

“I knew you had it in you.” He squeezes my hand. “Want some coffee?”

“No thanks, I’m gonna try to sleep before we land.” I curl into my chair and try to let the tension release from my body as I fall asleep.

[bexo-tic]

hello :)

maybe y’all forgot y’all followed me because o have posted in literally forever but if y’all are still interested in my fic i can work it into my schedule :) i also understand if y’all don’t care 😂

[bexo-tic]

✨

[bexo-tic]

can u tag me in donuts and gun fights? if there's gonna be another part, that is...

I'll be sure to tag you ! I'm working on the next part, I'm just busy with school atm ❤❤

[bexo-tic]

Bitter - Five Hargreeves X Reader

{ I didn’t expect so many people to like my fic, but I’m happy y’all think it’s good ... and also people want to be tagged? it’s crazyyy but ily :* Also I wrote this is in about an hour so sorry if there are mistakes } 

Tag List: @campcampie ​ @midiocris

Word Count: 942

Part Three:

Your eyes sleepily open, having to squint to adjust to the light in the room. Although the dark curtains are pulled shut, rays of the morning sun spill in through cracks. You look around the room, last night’s events starting to return to your memory. You sigh and sit up to stretch your arms before getting out of bed. Five is still sprawled in the floor, a soft snore sounding once in a while. His hair is flopped over his forehead and his chest slowly rises and falls with each breath. You smile and decide to go down to the kitchen to make coffee. 

Your bare feet pat quietly against the floor, the tile chilly against your soles. You absentmindedly hum a tune as the coffee drains into the pot. The room is filled with a bitter but addictive smell. You fix two cups and leave the coffee pot heating. When you make it back up to Five’s room, he is already awake and sitting cross legged in the floor.

“Well hey there sleepyhead, how was the floor?” you ask teasingly. You sit next to him.

“It was alright. One of those for me?” He has a smile on his face and it instantly makes you break into one as well. You hand him his cup of coffee, black - the way he likes it.

“I have no idea how you can drink that. It’s so bitter,” you say, taking a sip of your own cup added with sugar, creamer, and milk. Perfection. He takes a large gulp of his coffee just to spite you, laughing when you show a look of disgust.

“I’m sorry I made you relive all of that yesterday,” you say, looking at him over the brim of your cup before you take another sip.

“Didn’t I already tell you not to apologize for that. I wanted to tell you about it Y/N,” he says, a small hint of agitation in his voice. You already knew you fucked up the cheerful morning. You sighed and stayed silent, pondering over what to say next. You wondered about how the day would go, the week would go. You knew you wouldn’t be able to leave Five and you knew you wouldn’t be able to lie to him about why for very long. Although you weren’t the cause, him spending all those years alone had struck a nerve in your chest. Maybe that was why he never would admit to his feelings or needing someone. Maybe he just didn’t know how.

You looked up at Five and saw him staring into his cup of coffee. He still looked like the boy you met two years ago in Griddy’s Donuts when you were a waitress there. Something about the mysterious boy who came in everyday and studied a thick folder while drinking black coffee had sparked your interest. You got curious enough and came in at the time he always did on one of your days off. You sat across from him in the corner booth and for a while he was too engrossed in what he was doing to notice you, That’s how it felt right now. And somehow from that awkward first encounter you became friends. Five had always been there to support you through everything and now you were just trying to do the same.

“Why am I not allowed to feel bad for you?” Your question makes him finally look up from his mug,

“I don’t need you to feel bad for me, Y/N. I’m over it.”

“If you were over it then you would just accept my apology and move on. You didn’t do that.”

“I’m not talking with you about this,” he says, running a hand over his face.

“Well, why not? Five, why is it that we can never talk about your problems?”

“Why is it that you’re always wanting to?”

“Because we don’t. I just want to be there for you like you’ve been there for me, I wanna hel-”

“Drop it, Y/N. Just stop.”

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Can you stop all this worrying shit? Can you fuck off,” he shouts, moving his arms to the side. His coffee cup gets knocked over, the blankets in the floor turning brown and bitter. Bitter, that’s exactly how you were feeling right now. Why was he blowing up on you for trying to help? 

“You know what, fuck you. And fuck this.” You can’t even yell back at him, your throat feels clenched. You aren’t even sure how you just spoke. You get up from the floor and walk away. You don’t even know where you plan to go, but you know you want out of that room. You can hear Five come after you, but you speed up your pace, taking the steps two, three at a time to get to the front door as quickly as you can. You feel a grip on your arm and Five pulls you to face him.

“Come on Y/N, I’m sorry.” 

You yank wrist from his grip.

“You told me to fuck off and that’s what I”m trying to do. I’m not going to sit here and be helpful now after you yelled at me for wanting to help you. You can’t just keep shit bottled up inside of you, you have to say something. Quit acting like you don’t need someone, it’s fucking normal to talk about feelings, Five. Accept it.” 

He seems shocked at how calmly your voice came out. He opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head. You turn around, walking out the front door.

[bexo-tic]

Awww! You’re Umbrella Academy fic is cute so far! I can’t wait to see what you have in store for us with it!

my heart 😭😭😭😭 y'all with these compliments, I really didn't think that many people would like it 😂

[bexo-tic]

Umm...if it's not too much trouble, would you mind tagging me for Donuts And Gun Fights? It's so good!

It's no trouble at all! And I'm glad y'all are enjoying my fic ❤

[bexo-tic]

how deeply are you sleeping or are you still awake? a good friend told me you’ve been staying out so late

[bexo-tic]

Sweet Dreams - Five Hargreeves X Reader

{ Just a reminder that Five is 18, a legal adult in this fanfic cuz we don’t condone fanfiction including the sexual activity of minors over here :) }

Word Count: 840 { I promise these will slowly get longer :( ily }

Tag List: @campcampie

Part Two:

You widen your eyes at Five, awaiting his answer. A million thoughts rush through your head about what just happened. It almost seemed like a robbery, but then why would those people have fired off their guns? You try to relive the scene in your memory, but it all seems to blur together, it happened too fast.

“I probably should have told you all of this before, I’m sorry Y/N.”

“Look I don’t care, I just wanna know what the hell happened back there.”

Five gets up from the bed and walks around the room, biting his bottom lip.

“Okay, let’s start with the simple stuff. I appear 18, but my conscience is 63.” 

(AN: It was 58 at 13, so I just added 5 years to make him 18 if that makes sense)

You laugh. “Come on Five, I’m serious.”

“I am too Y/N. I have so much to explain, I just need you to keep an open mind about everything I say.”

“Okay,” you say, confused.

“You know about the academy and you know I have the ability to jump through space. My father wouldn't let me jump through time, but I thought I was ready. I didn't care about the risks or what could happen to me because I was too focused on proving myself. I was stubborn-"

"Yeah no shit," you laugh. You see his tense expression and regret it. "Sorry, sorry. I promise no more interrupting."

He takes a deep breath.

"I ignored his warnings and time jumped anyway,” he pauses and sighs. “It hurts to even think about, nonetheless explain. I got stuck in the future after the  apocalypse, alone. My only companion was a fucking mannequin. I spent my days dedicated to solving the equation to stop the apocalypse. The Commissioner came to me and offered me a job in the field to carry out the set timeline. I took her offer so I could plan how to stop the end of the world better. When I finally figured it out, I jumped a week before the apocalypse, but I was stuck in my 13 year old body. The Commissioner sent  agents after me, and I think the people from the donut shop were agents, too. But I don’t understand why they’re after me now.”

You stare at him blankly.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know, even more to actually live it.” He looks disheveled, almost as if the words and emotions had shaken him from the inside out. And maybe they did. Alone for 45 years, what could that even do to a person?

“Oh my god. Five, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Y/N, you haven’t done anything.” He sits next to you on the bed, running a hand through his hair.

“I can still feel bad that you had to go through that. I can’t imagine how it must have felt to be alone for all those years.”

He grabs your face to make you look at him. “It’s not your fault, you can’t blame yourself for the problems of those around you, Y/N.” He drops his hands to his sides.

You check the time, Five’s alarm clock blinks 11:48 PM at you in a glowing red.

“It’s kinda late, do you wanna head home?” Five asks.

You look back at him. “Actually, do you think I could stay here for the night? It’s pretty late to be walking home.”

“That’s fine, let me fetch some pillows and blankets,” he says as he heads out of the room. You let out a breath of relief, he believed you. If you were being honest with yourself, you knew you would have been fine going home, but you didn’t want to leave Five after what he had told you.The thought of him being alone physically hurt, building a knot in the bottom of your stomach. The memories were fresh in his mind after explaining everything to you, and abandoning him with all of that felt wrong and cruel. If you stayed the night, you could make sure you were there for him, although he would never admit he needed you.

“Here we are,” Five says, dropping the bedding onto his bedroom floor. “You take the bed tonight, okay?”

“No, I can sleep on the couch like always. It’s cool.”

“Y/N I got you dragged into a shoot-out today, You’ve never experienced something like that so take the fucking bed,” he says, laughing and shaking his head.

“Fine... But you have to sleep in here with me.”

“Are you trying to ask me to bed, Y/N?” He smirks.

“You said the bed is mine, you get the floor buddy.” You wink at him before pulling the covers over yourself.

“Of course,” he laughs. He flicks off the light and lays in his make-shift pallet in the floor. 

“Goodnight Five,” you call out.

“Goodnight Y/N.” You hear him whisper something else, almost as if it was supposed to be under his breath. “Sweet dreams.”

[bexo-tic]

Dave: it’s weird how brits say lift instead of elevator.

Klaus: And how my father says “you’re a disappointment” instead of “I love you”.

[bexo-tic]

Donuts and Gun Fights - Five Hargreeves X Reader

Word Count: 517

AN: This is super short, but I just needed an introduction for this fanfic also this is my first time writing in a while and in second person so constructive criticism or tips are greatly appreciated 

{ in this Five has aged to 18 so it doesn’t seem odd /even though he’s still super old I guess ??/  also at this point Five and the reader are best friends ;) he hasn’t told her about getting trapped in the future or his old job yet }

Part One:

“Holy shit, Five! It’s here!” You run through the foyer of the Hargreeve’s house into the sitting room where Five sits, looking through a newspaper. He folds it and sets it aside when he notices your eager expression.

“What’s here?”

“My letter from Stanford! I haven’t opened it yet, I ran here as soon as I got it.”

“I can tell,” he gestures at your messy hair and exhausted appearance.

“Shut up and be excited for me.”

“What do you mean? I’m ecstatic,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and plop onto the couch next to him.

“I’m too nervous to open it. Can you?”

He takes the envelope from your hands and smoothly opens it up, slipping out the letter into his hand. “Drum roll please.”

“Five, just read it,” you whine.

“Okay okay.” He unfolds it, and you watch his eyes skim quickly over the words. His face falls. “Oh no...”

“I didn’t get it?” you ask.

“I’m just thinking about all the money we’re gonna have to spend on plane tickets to visit each other,” he says, breaking into a grin.

“Oh my god, for real? Ah, I can’t believe it!” you scream, hugging Five around the neck and laughing. “You really had me there for a second.”

“Your face was priceless.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Wanna go to Griddy’s for celebratory donuts?”

He gives you a look and you sigh.

“And your bitter ass black coffee?” you smile.

“There ya go,” he winks.

-----

You poke at the chocolate donut on your plate, the frosting gleaming from the daylight shining into the shop from the corner booth by the window you and Five decided to sit at. 

“The only part I’m not psyched about is being across the country from my best friend.” 

“I mean, you can always stay here and mooch off your parents for the rest of your life.”

“Ha ha, very funny. We both know my parents want me gone almost as much as I wish I was gone. Besides, I gotta go get my psychology degree, then maybe I can find a way to break through your mysterious and illusive barriers.” You laugh.

“Hmm, don’t know if you’ll ever be good enough for that, Y/N,” he smirks.

“Sure I will,” you stick your tongue out at him. There’s a loud noise of shattering glass and you turn around in your seat. Bullets are flying and two black clothed figures are standing in the middle of it all. You feel Five pull you under the table. He flips the table over to shield you both from the bullets. 

“Are you okay?” he asks frantically, checking all over you for wounds.

“I’m fine, I”m fine! What’s happening?” you ask, anxiety and adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” you shriek. 

“Look, you just have to trust me, okay?” Five holds out his hand. You nod and link your fingers with his. There’s a large wind that swirls around you and suddenly you’re sitting on Five’s bed back at the academy.

“What the fuck just happened?”