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doctorbitchcrxft · 4 months

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Something Wicked | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, implications of verbal parental abuse

Word Count: 4885

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The two boys were bickering over coordinates Dean had received from an anonymous number.

“Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers, I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important, Sammy.”

“Well, I'm telling you, I looked, and all I could find was a big steamy pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something, I don't know what.”

“Well, maybe he's going to meet us there.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause he's been so easy to find up to this point.”

You sighed. You weren’t about to get in the middle of this argument and tuned the rest of it out. Alas, Dean won the argument, as he often did.

You stopped for some coffee along Fitchburg’s main street. The town itself was small, but it was quaint. A little too Middle America for your taste.

“Well… the waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky, but other than that, no one's heard about anything freaky going on,” Dean sighed, handing you and Sam your respective coffee orders.

“Dean, you got the time?” you asked him.

“Ten after four. Why?”

You nodded in front of you at the playground you were looking at. “What's wrong with this picture?”

It was deserted aside from one child climbing on the jungle gym.

“School's out, isn't it?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. So where is everybody?” Sam added. “This place should be crawling with kids right now.”

You and the Winchesters walked over to a woman on a park bench reading a magazine. Dean approached her, saying, “Sure is quiet out here.”

The woman sighed, “Yeah, it’s a shame.”

“Why's that?”

“You know, kids getting sick, it's a terrible thing.”

“How many?”

“Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching,” she explained.

All four of you watched the little girl playing by herself, and the wheels in your head began to turn. Why would John send you all the way to Fitchburg over a few sick kids?

The three of you made your way up to the pediatrics ward of the hospital to investigate the sick children. Dean and Sam donned suits, and you wore a pencil skirt and heels. You couldn’t lie to yourself, Dean looked amazing in his suit, but you much preferred his usual leather jacket and biker boots.

“See something you like?” Dean smirked at you.

Your mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. He just snickered in response while your cheeks burned.

A doctor approached you and the boys before Dean could taunt you any further. You introduced yourselves and headed down the corridor with the man. “Well, thanks for seeing us, Dr. Hydecker,” Dean said.

“Well, I'm glad you guys are here. I was just about to call CDC myself. How'd you find out anyways?” the doctor asked.

“Oh, some GP— I forget his name— he called Atlanta, and, uh, he must've beat you to the punch,” Dean lied.

“So you say you got six cases so far?” you asked.

“Yeah, five weeks. At first we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. But now…”

“What?”

“The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are... wearing out.”

“Wait, but are there any signs of leukopenia?” you asked. “Any history in these kids of that?”

Dean looked over at you, confused by what you were saying. You continued to talk to the doctor.

“No, actually,” Hydecker answered.

“What about neutropenia?”

He shook his head as a nurse handed him a clipboard full of papers.

“Then, whatever this is would have to be attacking the bone marrow as well as the respiratory system… Have you done biopsies?”

“No, we haven’t,” Hydecker answered. “I’ll give that a try.”

“You ever seen anything like this before?” Sam questioned.

“Never this severe,” the doctor said. “And the way it spreads… that's a new one for me.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sam.

“It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after another.”

“You mind if we interview a few of the kids?” Dean questioned.

“They’re not conscious,” the doctor replied.

You were shocked. “None of them?”

“No.”

“Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?” tried Dean.

“Well, if you think it'll help.”

“Yeah. Who was your most recent admission?”

Hydecker directed you to a man sitting on a chair against the wall in the waiting room. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He explained to you the oldest girl was first, and then his youngest. He told you that her window had been opened, but there was no one who could’ve done so except for his daughter because her room was on the second floor.

You and the boys headed out of the pediatrics ward and back toward the car.

“(Y/N), how’d you know all that stuff?” Sam asked you, referencing your conversation with the doctor.

“I like to read,” you shrugged. Sam smiled at your response and walked a little ahead of you.

Dean came up next to you. “You were really serious about nursing, huh,” he said softly enough so Sam wouldn’t hear.

“I guess. I really do just like to read, though,” you smiled. “I think I just wanted to stick it to my dad. I always thought I’d be happier not hunting. But, uh, I just don’t think I could ever go back to being ‘normal’.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he responded.

Sam turned back to you and his brother. “You know, this might not be anything supernatural. It might just be pneumonia.”

“No way,” you shook your head, “pneumonia wouldn’t be lowering white blood cell count. It’d have to be elevated for it to be true pneumonia. Infection and all that.”

Sam hummed. “Okay, so then what’s your theory?”

“Honestly? Not sure.”

“I'll tell you one thing,” said Sam. “That dad we just talked to? I'm betting it'll be a while before he goes home.”

***

“You got anything over there?” Sam asked Dean. The three of you had climbed through the home of the last two kids who had gotten sick looking for clues.

“Nah, nothing,” the older brother answered.

“Yeah, me neither,” you chimed in. You moved over to the window and paused. “Hey guys? I really don’t think it’s pneumonia.”

The boys came over and followed your line of sight to a rotted handprint with long, tendril-like fingers.

“What the hell leaves a handprint like that?” Sam asked.

Dean seemed to get pulled away into his own mind for a moment before he began to look a little sick. “I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job.”

Dean raced down the stairs to the window on the back of the house you’d climbed through. You followed him close behind. You would ask him what had happened to him in the little girl’s bedroom later.

Dean explained to you on the ride to the motel what he thought you were hunting: a shtriga.

“So what the hell is a shtriga?” Sam asked as Dean pulled into a motel parking lot. This motel was a little cuter than the ones you’d visited previously; centered around a white cabin with green shingles.

“It's kinda like a witch, I think. I don't know much about 'em,” explained Dean.

“Well, I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal.”

“Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about sixteen, seventeen years ago. You were there. You don't remember?”

Sam shook his head.

“And I guess he caught wind of the things in Fitchburg now and kicked us the coordinates,” Dean went on.

“So wait, this…” Sam paused, waiting for Dean to remind him how to pronounce it.

“Shtriga.”

“Right. You think it's the same one Dad hunted before?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?” Sam’s brows furrowed together.

“ ‘Cause it got away.”

Sam scoffed. “Got away?”

Dean was beginning to get frustrated, and you knew it was a cover-up for whatever was going on inside his head. “Yeah, Sammy, it happens.”

“Not very often.”

“Well, I don't know what to tell ya, maybe Dad didn't have his wheaties that morning,” snarked the older brother.

“What else do you remember?”

“Nothin'. I was a kid, alright?” Dean said defensively. You followed him into the motel lobby only to see a little boy watching TV in one room and a boy around ten or eleven walking out of it.

“A king or two queens?” The boy asked, looking between you and Dean.

“Two queens,” you and Dean answered quickly. “And one king, actually,” you added, stepping aside to reveal Sam behind you.

A woman entered smiling at you both. “Checking in?”

You nodded to her.

“Do me a favor, go get your brother some dinner,” the woman instructed the boy.

“I'm helping a guest!” he protested, but turned away under his mother’s hard stare. “Two queens. And a king.”

“Will that be cash or credit?” she asked you.

Dean took out his card. “You take MasterCard? Perfect. Here you go.”

You watched him look behind the woman at the boy pouring his younger brother a glass of milk. And there he went again; pulled into what you could only assume was memories of himself and Sam.

The woman before you held out his card to zoned-out Dean, and you took it from her instead. “Uh, thanks.” She handed you the keys, and you nudged Dean to bring him back to reality.

***

Dean explained to you and Sam what shtrigas fed off: children, most commonly. The only thing that could kill them were specially designed wrought-iron rounds while the thing was feeding. They often take the form of something unsuspecting; like an old woman.

“Hang on,” Dean said. “Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far and dead center?”

“The hospital,” you noted.

“Now, when we were there, I saw a patient; an old woman,” Dean continued.

“An old person huh?” questioned Sam. “In a hospital? Phew. Better call the Coast Guard.”

You giggled at Sam.

“Well, listen, smart-asses, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall.”

You and Sam stopped snickering and looked up at Dean. He raised an eyebrow at you.

And so, you headed to the hospital. Fortunately for her— but unfortunately for your hunt— the old woman with the upside down cross on the wall was just cataract-ridden and crotchety. Upon your return to the motel after thoroughly freaking out the old woman, you pulled Dean to your motel room for a talk before bed.

“What’s up?” he asked, sitting on a chair in your room.

You sat on the bed across from him. “Where do you keep going?” you asked.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, I just realized how stupid that sounded. You keep, like, disappearing into your own brain,” you responded. “Like in the motel lobby. You zoned out looking at that kid and his brother.”

“Oh, that,” he said quietly. “I, uh, it’s stupid.”

“Dean,” you leaned over your crossed legs and rested your hand on his knee. “I’m asking you. It’s not stupid. I just care.”

“Oh, come on—”

“Dean,” you said. “You made me a pinky promise at that scary asylum. You promised you’d tell me. Please?”

He huffed out a small laugh. “You know how I said my dad hunted this thing before?”

You nodded.

“Well, I’m the reason it got away.”

“How? Didn’t you say it was sixteen, seventeen years ago? You would’ve been ten, dude,” you responded.

“Yeah, but it’s complicated. My dad left us alone in motel rooms all the time. He made me repeat to him what I was and wasn’t supposed to do every time he would go out on a hunt. Sam and I would fight over the last bowl of Lucky Charms from the groceries Dad got us for the week; y'know, stupid kid stuff,” he chuckled. “But it’d been days. I was climbin’ the walls, (Y/N). I had to get some air. I went to an arcade to just… blow off some steam, I guess.

"When I came back, the thing was over Sammy’s bed. I was frozen. My dad came in and shot it a couple times, but it got away. Dad just... grabbed us and booked. Dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away, but by the time he got back to Fort Douglas, the shtriga had disappeared; it was just gone. It never surfaced until now. Y'know, Dad never spoke about it again, I didn't ask." He looked away from you attempting to swallow his emotions. "But he, ah, he looked at me different, you know? Which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, and I didn't listen; I almost got Sammy killed.”

“Dee, you were a kid,” you said softly. He went to cut you off, but you stopped him. “No, let me talk. I know how that feels. My parents left me with Stevie all the time. I would've done the same thing you did. We were kids. We had to take on parental responsibilities. Anybody would be going stir crazy, especially at ten years old like you were.”

“(Y/N)—”

“No,” you told him, grabbing his hand. “You cannot blame yourself. I won’t let you. Would you let me?”

He shook his head.

“Exactly.”

He held your intense stare and rubbed a thumb over your hand. The two of you awkwardly pulled away from each other, and Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, thank you, for, y’know—”

“Yeah, any time,” you said, walking him to the door.

***

The next morning, you and Sam were teasing Dean about the old woman from the hospital the night before. You were headed to the car to go get some breakfast.

“ ‘I was sleeping with my peepers open’?” Sam laughed heartily, remembering the old woman's strange way of talking.

“I almost smoked that old girl, I swear. It's not funny!” Dean grunted.

“Oh man, you shoulda seen your face,” you giggled.

“Yeah, laugh it up. Now we're back to square one.” He looked over to the ten-year-old blond boy sitting on the bench behind his mother’s office. “Hang on.” He led you over to the child. “Hey, what's wrong?”

“My brother's sick,” he replied.

“The little guy?”

He nodded. “Pneumonia. He's in the hospital. It's my fault.”

“Ah, c'mon, how?” You could tell Dean’s mind was racing just based on his tone.

“I should’ve made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't've got pneumonia if the window was latched,” the boy lamented.

You watched, frowningly thoughtfully, as Dean looked away from the boy.

“Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault. Okay?” Dean assured him.

“It's my job to look after him,” the boy frowned, tearing up.

His mother hurried out of the motel toward her minivan. “Michael, I want you to turn on the 'no vacancy' sign while I'm gone. I've got Denise covering room service, so don't bother with any of the rooms.”

“I'm going with you,” he protested.

“Not now, Michael.”

“But I gotta see Asher!”

Dean responded before his mother could. “Hey, Michael. Hey. I know how you feel— I'm a big brother, too— but you gotta go easy on your mom right now, ok?”

His mom dropped her handbag in haste, cursing under her breath. You rushed to pick it up for her.

“Listen, you're in no condition to drive. Why don't you let me give you a lift to the hospital,” Dean offered.

“No, I couldn't possibly—” she answered.

“No, it's no trouble. I insist.”

Michael’s mother handed Dean the keys and thanked him before addressing her son. “Be good.”

Dean turned to you before he went over to the car. “We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead, you hear me?”

You and Sam watched Dean pull out of the motel parking lot, driving much more carefully than he ever did when you and Sam were in the car.

“C’mon,” you said. “You got the keys?”

“Yeah,” he threw them to you. “Where we goin’?”

“Wait, you’re letting me drive?” you asked Sam.

He shrugged.

You squealed childishly and jumped into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t lie, you loved this car. You loved how the steering wheel felt in your hands and the way the engine rumbled.

“Seriously, where we going?”

“The library,” you answered. “Town records, national records, internet, anything and everything. Dean wants this thing dead, and I intend to get it done tonight. And I gotta tell you, dude, something’s really bothering me about this whole thing. I mean, I never even formally went to nursing school, but I knew it couldn’t be pneumonia immediately. Why would pediatric doctors be unable to figure that out?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I get you. Something isn’t right.”

***

You and Sam poured through as many books you possibly could as quickly as you could. Sam was at his computer, scrolling with a furrowed brow when his phone rang. “ Hey. How's the kid?... We’re at the library. We've been trying to find out as much as we can about this shtriga… Well, bad news. I started with Fort Douglas around the time you said Dad was there?... Same deal.

"Before that, there was, uh, Ogdenville, before that, North Haverbrook, and Brockway. Every 15 to 20 years, it hits a new town. Dean, this thing is just getting started in Fitzburgh. In all these other places, it goes on for months. Dozens of kids before the shtriga finally moves on. The kids just languish in comas, and then they die… Ah, I don't know. The earliest mention I could find is this place called ‘Black River Falls’ back in the 1890s. Talk about a horror show.”

Your brain began to make connections between all of those events. “Wait, Sam, put Dean on speaker.”

He did so.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to stay with me on this one. This could just be me spitballin’, but—”

“Just say it, (Y/N),” Dean said through the phone.

“I’ve been thinking, why wouldn’t Hydecker immediately rule out pneumonia? If he’s such a spectacular and caring doctor, why wouldn’t he know that pneumonia ups your white blood cell count; not depletes it? And the chance of all six kids having a pre-existing condition that lowers your WBC is incredibly low. I mean, why else wouldn’t he biopsy the kids?”

“Okay, WebMD, what does that have to do with anything?” Dean asked.

“I told you to stay with me.” You began typing in your computer searching for articles on the earliest case Sam had found in Black River Falls. “The point is, I think Hydecker’s our guy. Think about it— the center of the kidnappings is the hospital. And any pediatric doctor would be familiar with what pneumonia actually does to a kid’s body.” You smiled sourly at a photo you pulled up of doctors surrounding a child’s bed in 1893. You turned the computer around to Sam. “Boom.”

“(Y/N), that is huge.” He leaned over and lightly punched your shoulder. “Good going.”

“Thanks!” you grinned. “Dean, meet us back at the motel. Don’t deck the guy in the face, please. Not yet, anyway.”

“No promises,” he grumbled.

“Dean—”

“Fine.” He hung up the phone.

“Alright, we gotta get back before Dean explodes,” you told Sam. “Can I drive again?”

“Sure, why not. Just don’t tell my brother.” He tossed you the keys and you giggled.

***

“We should have thought of this before. A doctor's a perfect disguise. You're trusted, you can control the whole thing,” Sam said.

You and the brothers were back in the motel room.

Dean threw off his jacket and paced agitatedly. “That son of a bitch.”

“I'm proud of you for not drawing on him right there,” you said.

“Yeah, well, first of all, I'm not going to open fire in a freakin' pediatrics ward.”

Sam nodded. “Good call.”

“Second, wouldn't have done any good, because the bastard's bullet proof unless he's chowing down on something. And third, I wasn't packing, which is probably a really good thing, ‘cause I probably would've just burned a clip in him on principle alone.”

Despite the situation, you found Dean aggressively grumbling about guns very attractive.

“You're getting wise in your old age, Dean,” Sam quipped.

“Damn right. 'Cause now I know how we're going to get it,” replied Dean.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Shtriga works through siblings, right?”

You knew what he was getting at. “No, Dean, I don’t like that.”

“What?” Sam asked, clearly not picking up where you and Dean were at.

“(Y/N)—”

“No, dude, we gotta get Michael out of here. I’m not letting you use him as bait.”

“Dean, what?! That’s out of the question!” Sam protested.

“It's not out of the question, Sam, it's the only way. If this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance.”

“Michael's a kid. And I'm not going to dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook,” Sam scoffed.

“Dad did not send me here to walk away.” Dean turned away from you and Sam and gripped the edges of the dresser.

“Send you here? He didn't send you here; he sent us here,” Sam replied.

“This isn't about you, Sam. I'm the one who screwed up, all right. It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me.”

“What are you saying, Dean? How is it your fault?” Sam paused, taking a moment to calm down. “Dean. You've been hiding something from the get-go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Now talk to me, man. Tell me what's going on.”

Dean proceeded to explain what he had to you last night. Sam gave him the same lecture about how it wasn’t his fault, but Dean began to protest again. “Don't. Don't. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it.”

You were surprised at the tough facade he gave his brother in contrast to the way he was vulnerable with you.

“But using Michael— I don't know Dean. I mean, how 'bout one of us hides under the covers, you know, we'll be the bait,” Sam tried.

“No, it won't work. It's gotta get close enough to feed— it'll see us. Believe me, I don't like it, but it's gotta be the kid.”

***

Michael was completely against the idea and even threatened to call the cops on you. You and the boys returned to their motel room dejectedly.

“Well, that went crappy. Now what?” Dean groaned.

“What did you expect? You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid,” the younger brother sighed.

There was a knock at the door, and you opened it to reveal Michael.

“Hey,” you said, surprised.

“If you kill it, will Asher get better?”

“Honestly? We don't know,” Dean told him.

“You said you were a big brother,” Michael started, “You'd take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?”

“Yeah, I would,” Dean replied quietly. Your heart swelled at how much Dean and Sam cared for each other.

The young boy nodded. “Me, too. I'll help.”

Dean had hooked up a security camera to the boy’s room, and you and he watched the monitor closely. You were beginning to feel cross-eyed from how tired you were. It was around three in the morning, and your body protested against your will to stay awake.

“You sure these iron rounds are gonna work?” Sam asked his brother.

“Consecrated iron rounds, and yeah, it's what Dad used last time.”

“Hey, Dean? I’m sorry,” the younger brother said softly. “You know, I've really given you a lot of crap, for always following Dad's orders. But I know why you do it.”

“Oh, god, kill me now,” Dean groaned.

You giggled to yourself, eyes returning to the screen. “Dean, look.”

There was a bit of movement off to the right of the screen outside of the window. You and the boys picked up your guns, holding them tightly and waiting for the right moment.

“Now?” you asked.

“Not yet.”

The shtriga moved closer and leaned over the bed. You could see Michael tense under the covers and draw them closer to himself. The creature leaned over the bed, pushing the covers down.

“Now?!”

“Now.”

You and the boys burst through the door and began to shoot the creature after Michael rolled away. It flew off Michael’s bed and fell to the side you couldn’t see.

“Mike, you alright?” Dean asked the kid.

“Yeah,” came his muffled reply from under the bed.

“Just sit tight.” Dean approached the shtriga, his gun at the ready. There was no movement for just a moment, before the shtriga shot up and grabbed Dean by his throat, throwing him across the room.

“Dean!” you cried, trying to run to him. The shtriga threw you to the side against Michael’s bed. Your back protested as you tried to roll and grab your gun that had fallen out of your hand in the chaos. You noticed the shtriga leaning over the top of the younger Winchester. Sam’s body went limp and began to go gray as the shtriga began to suck out his life force.

“Hey!” Dean gruffly spat. The shtriga turned to the older brother just to get shot straight between the eyes.

“Nice!” you said. You rushed to Sam’s side and smoothed a hand over his messy hair while he tried to catch his breath. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“You okay, little brother?” Dean called from behind you. You thought it was adorable how much he cared.

You and Sam stood and you tried to help hold the tall man up on his unsteady legs. You guided him over to the shtriga, and Dean shot it three times at point-blank range. The shtriga’s body fell in on itself, disintegrating.

You looked up at Dean, whose face was still set in hard lines.

“It's okay, Michael, you can come on out,” Dean told the boy peeking out from under his bed. He rose to stand beside you, smiling tentatively. Dean put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. You looked on, feeling your heart swell at what you knew was a full-circle moment for Dean. You knew these moments were few and far-between in a profession like yours, and you had learned to savor them in your memory.

***

You and the brothers returned to your rooms to pack now that the monster was dead. As usual, you were finished packing before the boys were and leaned against the Impala waiting for them.

You watched Michael’s mom’s car pull up in the motel parking lot. At that moment, the boys came out to join you.

“Hey, Joanna. How's Asher doing?” Dean asked the mother of the two boys.

“Have you seen Michael?” she asked him.

“Mom! Mom!” the child in question ran up and hugged him. “How's Ash?”

“Got some good news. Your brother's gonna be fine,” she smiled down at the boy.

“Really?” Michael grinned.

“Yeah. Really. No one can explain it; it's a miracle. They're going to keep him overnight for observation, and then, he's coming home.”

You smiled as Sam asked, “How are all the other kids doing?”

“Good. Real good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward's going to be like a ghost town,” she explained.

“Dr. Travis? What about Dr. Hydecker?” you asked.

“Oh, he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something.”

You shot a knowing look to the boys.

“So, did anything happen while I was gone?” Joanna asked her son.

The boy looked to Dean before responding, “Nah, same old stuff.”

“Okay.” Joanna smoothed a hand over Michael’s blonde hair. “You can go see Ash.”

A wide grin spread across the boy’s face. “Now?!”

She nodded at her son, who ran into the car. “I, ah, I'd better get going before he hotwires the car and drives himself,” she told you and the boys. The three of you watched as Joanna’s car pulled out of the parking lot. Sam and Dean turned to you and placed their bags in the trunk next to yours.

“It's too bad,” said Sam.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” you assured him.

“That's not what I meant,” he shook his head. “I meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark— he'll never be the same, you know?” He paused. “Sometimes I wish that....”

“What?” Dean questioned.

“I wish I could have that kinda innocence.”

Dean walked to the driver’s side door. He leaned on the roof of the car and said, “If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn

hi hi! quite a few tags were broken :( please let me know if i've misspelled your tag! make sure you have notifs for my blog on so you don't miss an update!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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wongyuseokie · 1 year

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One Trick Peony | c.s.c

Summary: Choi Seungcheol could only do one type of floral arrangement, and the rest he’d pawn off to you, granted he got a ton of orders, but he would always take the orders for arrangements that he could never do. This time he went too far. He took an ‘only peonies’ arrangement–a painfully delicate flower–and took an order for a wedding, and with your luck, you’re the only two florists available that weekend.

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕ smut | ☁︎ mild angst | ♥ completed works Word Count: 4885 words Pairings: Florist!Choi Seungcheol x Florist! Female Reader Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: Fluff, angst, smut, frenemies to lovers, idk if thats the right word they just have a ton of digs at each other but no actual hate.

Content Warnings: Arguing, but it’s all very childish. Cheol being a slight smartass, but Y/N also being a bit mouthy. Idiots to lover makes more sense, both are dense af. Kissing, mentions of food. Inaccurate depictions of being a florist, idk. Loud and noisy kids destroying things. Moment of self doubt.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t do this irl), oral (f receiving), sorta dom! Cheol, rough sex (but its more vanilla), big dick! Cheol, multiple orgasms, squirting, riding, overstimulation, creampie, cum licking, hickies, kissing, phew I think that’s it. Cheol is an after care king.

Authors Note: This has been written for svthub's secret garden collab. Thank you all for letting me be part of this wonderful collab. Please check out the rest of the works written by my talented friends 💕 Banner Credits: @classicscreations

Cross Posted to AO3

You knew hate was a strong word, but that was all you could feel for your coworker, Choi Seungcheol. When Seungcheol first joined the flower shop, you didn’t mind him. You realised he was only capable of making one floral arrangement.

At first, you found it cute. You’d help him, teach him, but after a while, you realised he didn’t even pay attention, and that’s when your pettiness began, and Seungcheol matched it by being extra petty.

“Choi Seungcheol!” You exclaimed, knowing he hated being called by his full name.

“How many times do we have to go over this, Y/N? I don’t like being called by my first name?” Seungcheol complained, and you rolled your eyes at his whining. Seungcheol whined a lot. You’d never admit it, but it was adorable. A grown man who was tall and buff whined like a toddler. Only Seungcheol could be that cute, but he didn’t have to know.

“Why is there an order in the system for a wedding?” You questioned. “You know that we are short-staffed right now.”

“Look. I do, but it’s only a wedding with 80 people, and this lady and her husband waited for their wedding for five years because life kept getting in the way. You wouldn’t deny a couple of that joy, would you?” Seungcheol asked hopefully, grinning widely at you.

“Besides, I told them that the best florist in Seoul was the only choice for their special day,” Seungcheol boasted, and you scoffed.

“Of course I am, but you? You won’t even bother helping. It’ll just be me doing all the work,” you complained.

“I’m an excellent supervisor,” Seungcheol added.

“No, you’re just a pain in my ass,” you mumbled.

“Oh? You know I could help take the pain away,” Seungcheol teased, and you glared at him.

“I will break a flower vase over your pretty head if you even try,” you threatened.

“You think my head is pretty?” Seungcheol asked, and you glared at him again before storming into the back room.

“So, how do you want to get to the venue?” Seungcheol asked you later that evening as you were cleaning up your station. The shop was bustling, and all the arrangements came to you because Seungcheol was incompetent and too busy wooing more customers to buy more flowers without concern for your workload.

“What venue?” You asked, gritting your teeth.

“Ouch? What’s gotten you so huffy?” Seungcheol asked.

“You’re no help, and now you’re here trying to be chatty,” you spat.

“I got you so many orders, though!” Seungcheol protested.

“I didn’t need them. You know I’m busy,” you fired back, and Seungcheol frowned.

“Hey!” A voice interrupted, and you turned to see your manager staring at you and Seungcheol disapprovingly.

“Look, I don’t know if this is a situation of lovers who are too blind to confess, so they just verbally abuse one another? Or if you two hate each other, cut it out, at least for the weekend. This wedding would be huge for this business, and after that, we can discuss a plan or something that involves less interaction with you both, but for two days. I need you to behave. Can you do that?” Your manager asked, and you looked at Seungcheol, who avoided your gaze.

“Yes, I can. I don’t know about her,” Seungcheol said, throwing you a cunning smile.

“Seungcheol,” your manager warned, making him pout.

“You see what I have to put up with?” You complained, and your manager glared at you.

“Two days, just two days, make it work,” your manager pleaded, looking at you and Seungcheol, and you both sighed before nodding and agreeing.

For the sake of your job, you both would make it work.

Choi Seungcheol [7:58 am]: Morning, darling, I’m downstairs. On time, the flowers shall be delivered to the venue. I got you coffee, so please make your way down if you don’t want to get stuck in traffic.

You [7:59 am]: Yeah, I’ll be down.

Choi Seungcheol [8:00 am]: So cold, should have gotten you something warm to drink instead…

Choi Seungcheol [8:01 am]: See you soon, kitten, xoxo.

You let out a groan, kitten? How dare he call you that, and not just because that word had you feeling a certain way, but kitten? Who did he think he was?

You grumbled to yourself, grabbed your duffle bag, and made your way out of your apartment, triple checking to ensure you locked the door four times before heading downstairs to find Seungcheol.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Seungcheol greeted, and you shot him a look.

“Why the nicknames?” You asked.

“I’m trying to be friendly.”

“Well, it’s weird, so stop,” you mumbled.

“Fine, Y/N,” Seungcheol answered with a pout.

“Shall we? It’s a bit of a drive, and I really don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” you offered.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Oh, before I forget, here I put your coffee and some breakfast muffins for snacking,” Seungcheol offered as he pointed to the console.

“This is really kind of you, thank you.”

“See, I can be considerate,” Seungcheol bragged.

“Yeah, one coffee and breakfast muffin won’t change how much of a pain you are at work,” you teased, making Seungcheol pout.

“But you’re off to a good start Choi Seungcheol,” you added, making Seungcheol groan.

“I told you I don’t like my full name being used,” Seungcheol whined.

“Okay, why, though?”

“It feels distant, detached and cold. I feel like I’m being told off,” Seungcheol mumbled.

“To be fair, whenever I use your full name, I am usually telling you off,” you joked, making Seungcheol frown more.

“You can just yell at me. That’s better than full naming me,” Seungcheol offered with a grin.

“You got a degradation kink or something?” You asked.

“No, but I’ll tell you my kinks if you tell me yours,” Seungcheol teased with a grin.

“Shut up.”

You weren’t sure when you dozed off, but the next thing you knew was Seungcheol was gently shaking you awake.

“Hey, Y/N, we’re here,” Seungcheol said softly as you stirred awake.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry I fell asleep,” you apologised, knowing you broke a universal law. Do not fall asleep at the passenger seat.

“It’s okay, traffic was light and honestly it was kind of peaceful,” Seungcheol teased and you glared at him. Maybe you didn’t feel that bad.

“Come on let’s check in,” Seungcheol said as you slowly made your way out of the car, grabbed your things and headed towards the hotel.

“I can’t believe our manager gave us a room to share,” you grumbled, as you entered the hotel suite.

“Correction she gave us a suite to share with separate bedrooms, it’s really not that bad,” Seungcheol offered and you pouted.

“Fine, but don’t snore loudly and disturb me,” you mumbled.

“I do not snore!” Seungcheol protested.

“You fell asleep in the shop once and you snored so loudly that you woke yourself up,” you teased making Seungcheol sulk.

“Such a meanie,” Seungcheol pouted.

“You’re adorable when you sulk,” you said with a fond smile making Seungcheol grin at you.

“I’m always adorable,” Seungcheol corrected, and you frowned at him, but you did agree, but you’d never tell him.

“Rise and Shine. I got you breakfast. We need to be the in the ballroom to start the decorations in an hour!” Seungcheol yelled the following day as you entered the living room.

“I’m up,” you whined as you towelled your wet hair.

“Aww, kitten, it’s sunny out. Put a smile on your face otherwise, you’ll ruin the delicate flowers if you’re just angry,” Seungcheol babbled, and you glared at him.

“Hey, how do you know I like this?” You asked as you looked at the plate Seungcheol set up for you.

“Simple, I pay attention,” Seungcheol said with a smile and you felt your heart swell. You never expected him to know so much about you, but it was the same way you knew how he liked his coffee, what his favourite colour was, and his favourite author. You didn’t have to know any of it, but you paid attention too.

“You keep staring at me, quit it,” you muttered as you delicately arranged the peonies into a beautiful centrepiece.

That afternoon you and Seungcheol were busy arranging the ballroom with flowers and making intricate decorations for the reception.

“I can’t help it,” Seungcheol mumbled.

“Why?”

“Well, you look so beautiful doing what you love,” Seungcheol said, making you glare at him.

“Shut up.”

“I can, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that I meant what I said,” Seungcheol remarked with a grin.

“You see me working all the time. How come you never compliment me then?” You challenged.

“Because it’s usually in a full shop with other people around, and I don’t know. I only want you to hear the compliments, not everyone else,” Seungcheol offered, making you smile shyly at him.

“Well, thank you, and for what it’s worth, you weren’t too insufferable during this trip,” you offered with a grin.

“I call you beautiful, and you call me mildly tolerable. What does a guy have to do to win your heart?” Seungcheol said dramatically, making you grin.

Little did he know that he didn’t have to do too much.

“Cheol?” You called out from your bedroom, hoping Seungcheol could hear you. You detested cocktail gowns for their design, you could never reach the zipper and always ended up asking for help, and this dress had fancy straps that you couldn’t fasten.

“You hollered?” Seungcheol asked as he entered your bedroom.

“Seungcheol, can you please help me tie this? I promise I’m not trying to be a smartass. I’ve been at this for ten minutes, and I keep screwing up,” You asked as you held the thin strips of your halter with one hand on the back of your neck.

Seungcheol stared at you for a second and nodded, and you turned around so that your back was facing him, and Seungcheol took a deep breath when he saw that your gown was backless, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

You melted in his arms; his toned body felt like heaven against you.

“How tight?” Seungcheol asked, his words making your core throb.

“I’ll tell you when to stop,” you responded. You could do the same to him if he wanted to tease you. You bit your lip in an attempt to stop grinning when you heard him curse under his breath as he pulled on the straps.

“Right there?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Use your words,” Seungcheol whispered, his hot breath against your neck.

“Yes, right there,” you breathed out, and Seungcheol complied, tying the knot, and you felt his hands trail down your neck to your bare back, and you had to bite harder on your lip to not whimper at his touch.

“All done,” Seungcheol mumbled, and you turned around, his face mere inches away from yours.

“You look breathtaking,” Seungcheol complimented, making you smile.

“So do you. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the bridesmaids flock to you,” you teased, and Seungcheol shook his head.

“They can flock, but there’s only one girl worth my time,” Seungcheol responded, making you gulp.

“Shall we? We can’t be late,” Seungcheol offered with a grin.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you mumbled. You’d just have to curb your desire for him for now, but once the reception started, you would rile Seungcheol the way he had riled you up.

Your plans were shot to hell the minute you walked into the ballroom, several of your floral arrangements had been destroyed, and you weren’t sure who did it, but you heard the giggles and screams of children in the ballroom and knew you found your culprits.

Now, you weren’t one to yell at children, but when knocked into you, making you knock into another floral arrangement and destroy it, too, you couldn’t help but comment.

“Kids, can you not play here? There are delicate arrangements,” you said as kindly as you could, and apparently, that was all it took for them to start crying.

“Excuse me? How dare you make my children cry?” You heard someone accuse you and turned around to see an angry woman approaching you.

“I didn’t mean to, but they were running around and destroying the floral arrangements,” you mumbled.

“Uptight much? They’re children,” the lady sassed, and you were about to retort when Seungcheol interrupted. You weren’t sure when he showed up, but you were glad he did.

“Ma’am, I apologise that your kids are upset, but really we’re doing our best to ensure the bride and groom are happy. You won’t get blamed for poor floral arrangements, but we will, so please be considerate of that,” Seungcheol responded calmly, and the lady shrank in size and offered a scowl before walking, well stomping out of the hall.

“Jeez, there’s always someone like her everywhere. Come, I’ll fix the arrangements near the front of the hall, and you fix the pieces at the back of the hall?” Seungcheol offered, and you nodded meekly before heading off in that direction.

“Hey, you did a beautiful job,” you complimented as you approached Seungcheol a few minutes later; he was just putting the final touches on a centrepiece.

“Well. I have to. Your hard work shouldn’t go to waste,” Seungcheol said.

“You have a delicate touch,” you mumbled.

“I’ve been told I’m good with my hands,” Seungcheol said with a smirk, making you grin and roll your eyes at him.

“I’m glad to see you smile,” Seungcheol said.

“Don’t let what the mother said get to you, okay? She’s just mad that her kids embarrassed her, take pride in your work. I know I do,” Seungcheol said as he leaned closer to place a kiss on your cheek.

“I have to go help the groom find his boutonniere. I’ll see you later?” Seungcheol offered, and you smiled fondly at him. You watched him leave, and once he did, you placed your fingers over the spot he just kissed, and you swore you felt it tingle.

Seungcheol really didn’t have to do much to win your heart. He had it. The kiss just sealed the deal.

“Alright, you’ve been pouting since that little kid knocked over that vase. I’m sure that kid feels awful. Will you now just forget it for a bit and enjoy the evening? Why don’t you dance with me?” Seungcheol offered later that evening when he saw you sulking by the bar during the reception.

“I’m not upset about that. It’s just that when his mother called me uptight, I got annoyed,” you admitted, and Seungcheol nodded knowingly as he took a seat next to you at the bar.

“Do you think I’m uptight?” You asked, honestly, you didn’t care for Seungcheol’s opinion, but the alcohol made you extra sensitive, and for some reason, you found yourself seeking comfort in your work enemy.

“Nah. I think you take pride in your work, so when a kid tramples over it, you’re allowed to be upset,” Seungcheol consoled.

“When you say it like that, I sound unreasonable, getting mad at a kid at all,” you trailed off.

“Nah. That kid was getting really annoying. He stomped on my foot a couple of times,” Seungcheol joked, smiling when he saw you return him a brief smile.

“What I’m trying to say is that it’s okay. It’s okay to be upset, you take pride in your work, and if anyone messes with it, well, it’s fair to be upset,” Seungcheol explained, reiterating his earlier points.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“Come on. You shouldn’t be sulking at a wedding. Come dance with me,” Seungcheol offered as he hopped off the barstool and stood in front of you, holding out his hand.

“You? Choi Seungcheol, you’re telling me not to sulk? You’re the king of sulking!” You teased, and Seungcheol grinned.

“Yes, but I look cute doing it,” Seungcheol boasted, making you frown and swat his hand away.

“Go away, Cheol,” you grumbled.

“I didn’t say you don’t look cute when you sulk, it’s painfully adorable, but I like it when you smile more,” Seungcheol clarified.

“Smooth.”

“Very, now, dance with me. You look beautiful, and I recall you telling a customer in the past that you love weddings, so why not enjoy this one?” Seungcheol asked.

“You remember the shit I say?” You were surprised that Seungcheol even recalled that conversation.

“Of course, now come, dance with me,” Seungcheol pushing his outstretched arm towards you, you smiled as you took his hand, and he guided you towards the dance floor.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Seungcheol asked as he started to dance with you, his arms were around your waist as your hands wrapped around his neck.

“Maybe, once.”

“I should say it more, I cannot take my eyes of you,” Seungcheol complimented making you shyly hide your face in his chest.

“Why the sudden flattery?” You ask.

“It’s not sudden, I always try to do the same at work, but you’re usually busy biting, actually you are rightfully biting my head off at work,” Seungcheol corrected making you smile.

“Then why be so annoying?” You asked making him laugh.

“How else do I get your attention?” Seungcheol asked, and you smiled at him.

“Okay, I have to know, you sure you don’t like being scolded, like there’s not a hidden sub inside you?” You teased.

“Kitten, this is the second time you’ve asked about my kinks, you sure you don’t want to just find out?” Seungcheol asked, and you leaned up slightly to softly place your lips against his.

“Show me,” you whispered as you pulled away from his lips, and Seungcheol couldn’t get the two of you out of the ballroom quick enough.

The elevator trip and the walk back to the room was very quiet but not awkward, Seungcheol held your hand the entire way, and you were glad because his grip made you feel grounded when you were starting to float on cloud nine.

Once you were inside the room, Seungcheol had you Seungcheol pressed his lips to yours, and you kissed him back. His lips were even softer than you could have dreamt of. They felt full and plush as they moved against yours.

You melted into the kiss when you felt Seungcheol’s hands move along your body, his fingers pressing into your waist and back, making you moan into the kiss.

“Is that all you got?” you teased, as you mumbled against his lips, and Seungcheol smirked into the kiss as his hands moved up your exposed back, his fingers tracing your bare skin and sliding his hands down to your clothed waist, his hands moving up your stomach resting just below your covered breast.

“More?” Seungcheol asked, moving his lips away from yours to place them on your neck as he started to place soft kisses there, making you whimper at his touch.

“Can I take this off?” Seungcheol asked, and you nodded furiously, making him smile; he placed another kiss on your lips and quickly stripped you off your clothes, leaving you only in your panties, leaving your breasts exposed to him.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groaned out, and you smiled shyly at him as he pulled you into his embrace and carried you over to sit you down on the couch. Seungcheol’s lips found your neck as he sucked love bites into your neck, and his hands gently moved down to your hips. Large hands moved to grab your ass, pulling you tight against him; a string of moans and swear words left your mouth as you felt his hard length rub against your clothed pussy.

“Cheol,” you whined out.

“Yes?”

“I need you,” you breathed out, and that’s all Seungcheol needed as he carried you into his bedroom, laid you on the bed, and quickly rid himself of his clothes.

Once naked, Seungcheol crawled between your thighs and groaned when he saw the wet patch on your panties.

“Fuck, let me have a taste, kitten,” Seungcheol said, and you only whimpered, spreading your legs further to accommodate him; Seungcheol moved quickly, pulling your panties off and throwing them across the room.

Once greeted by your bare, glistening pussy Seungcheol knew needed to taste you, and he placed his plump lips on your clit, and started to suck, your hands twisted in his soft hair. You felt him sliding two fingers into your cunt, making you moan at the stretch, it felt so good, and Seungcheol stuck his tongue out, flicking your clit, making your back arch.

Seungcheol smirked against your cunt, as he decided to pick up the pace, moving his fingers more quickly inside you, his mouth never leaving your clit. You kept whimpering and moaning, which only made Seungcheol increase his speed. Your legs shook as you came for him, falling apart on his tongue and finger. Seungcheol groaned as he tasted your cum, smirking, pleased with the results, but he was far from done.

Seungcheol moved his mouth away from your clit to catch his breath, only to latch his lips back to your clit, making you whine in pleasure and pain. Seungcheol wrapped his lips around your clit while his tongue traced and circled the swollen nub. Seungcheol wrapped both his arms around your waist and held you down.

Seungcheol moved his mouth to your pussy, shoved his tongue inside you while his fingers found your clit and started rubbing. Your grip on his hair got tighter, and he groaned at the sensation. Seungcheol’s groans vibrated against your cunt, and you held his hair for some semblance as you fell apart on his tongue.

When he had finally cleaned you up with his tongue, you were shivering and on the precipice of another orgasm. You whimpered, trying to move away from his mouth, you were incredibly sensitive, but Seungcheol wanted to keep going. He wanted you to have a night you’d never forget, so he did and lapped up your release.

“So sweet,” Seungcheol praised as he sat back and admired your pulsating pussy, wet, sticky, and all for him.

“Cheol,” you moaned out.

“Yes, kitten?”

“Fuck me, please,” you begged, to make him smile as he adjusted your position so you were on your hands and knees.

Seungcheol held your hips and slowly pushed himself inside you, and you felt a slight burn at the stretch. It had been so long for you since you had sex, and he was big and thick.

Once Seungcheol realised how you weren’t hissing in pain anymore, and instead, you were moaning and muttering about how good he felt, Seungcheol started to move. He knew he wouldn’t last, not with you clenching around him so tightly. However, Seungcheol thrust into you, his movements hard and deep, eliciting whimpers and moans from you with each movement of his hips.

Seungcheol needed to cum, but not before you, as he set off a steady pace as he fucked you and slowly reached his fingers down to your clit and rubbed at it furiously; the room was filled with your screams and his guttural moans.

“Fuck, baby, I’m going to cum if you keep squeezing me like that,” Seungcheol groaned, gently biting your ear lobe at the same time.

“Inside, me, please, cum inside me,” you begged as he fucked.

“Fuck fuck”, he groaned; a few thrusts later, he suddenly stilled and pulled out of and flipped you over so that you were laying on your back, and Seungcheol took a deep breath as he grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist.

Seungcheol’s hard cock rested against your aching cunt; simply seeing his length made you delirious. His length was perfect, it could go deep inside you, and the thickness made you feel as good as when he fucked you. Seungcheol made you so full you had never felt, and you were sure he had ruined you for other men.

You bucked your hips against him, rubbing your wet folds against his cock, and he hissed at that. Seungcheol pushed himself into you, and you moaned at the stretch. Seungcheol’s hands moved to unwrap your legs, moving them to position them around his neck.

The new position allowed him to go deeper, and he pushed deep into your cunt, and he thrust his pace was perfect. Slow enough to make you feel every inch of his cock, and fast enough to make you moan.

“Baby”, you whimpered.

“Yes?”

“I want to ride you,” you choked out, and Seungcheol had to take a deep breath not to cum right then and there.

You whimpered as he pulled out and adjusted his position so he could lay on the bed and adjusted your position so Seungcheol could lay under you. He felt so good inside you. You lifted your legs and started moving your hips, riding him. You felt his grip tighten on your thighs as he helped you ride him.

“Fuck,” you cursed as you slowly sank onto his length.

You wanted to see Seungcheol fall apart underneath you, you trailed your hands to his fingers, and your nails grazed his nipples, making him buck into you. You moaned as his hips pushed his cock deeper inside you. You kept riding him until you felt him still and released inside you. You moaned, feeling his warmth fill up your cunt.

“Fuck,” you gasped as he pushed two fingers into you. Seungcheol stood up slightly as he shoved his middle and ring finger into your cunt and hooked them there.

“Scream for me,” Seungcheol said as he vigorously pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt. He used his other hand to press down your pubic bone, holding you still as you thrashed about.

“Do you hear how wet you are?” Seungcheol asked as he kept fingering you. You whimpered in response, fisting the bed sheets between your hands and screaming as you came hard.

“Fuck. I can’t,” you choked out when you noticed he hadn’t stopped his movements.

“Yes, you can. I know you can,” Seungcheol encouraged as he repeated his actions, making you squirt all over his hands.

You whimpered in his grip, pushing his forearm, and Seungcheol smiled as he pulled his fingers out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathed out.

“Good?” Seungcheol asked.

“Mhm, very,” you mumbled into his chest, making him smile.

“Noo!” You whined when you felt him move, and Seungcheol swore his heart melted at that moment.

“I need to clean you up,” Seungcheol said.

“No, stay,” you whined making him laugh.

“Please?” You asked and Seungcheol didn’t have the heart to deny you.

“Fine, but not in this bed, it’s a little wet,” Seungcheol teased making you bury your head into his chest more.

“Just hold onto me, and I’ll move you,” Seungcheol said as he carried you off the bed and into your bedroom, where he laid you down onto the bed, and used it as and excuse to quickly slip away and bring back a wet towel and gently clean you up.

“Come here,” you whined holding your hands out for him.

“Adorable,” Seungcheol cooed as he climbed into the bed, holding you in his arms as you both fell asleep.

The following morning you woke up with a dull ache between your thighs, and an empty bed. Before you could worry, you spotted a note on the bed.

I’m outside, waiting for room service, I thought we could do with breakfast, also I took a shower and left a towel out for you too.

-xx Cheol.

You smiled as you read the note, and took his suggestion, and hopped, well hobbled into the shower.

You saw Seungcheol sitting on the couch and staring out the window when you entered the living room, you felt more awake after your shower.

“Morning,” you greeted as you sat down next to him, and Seungcheol immediately turned around to face you, leaning forward to place a kiss on your lips.

“Morning,” he mumbled against your lips.

“How are you?” Seungcheol asked.

“Sore.”

“I would apologise, but I don’t think you mind, do you?” Seungcheol teased.

“Cheol!”

“Okay, but as a dutiful boyfriend, I’ll make it up to you!” Seungcheol declared.

You didn’t mind Seungcheol being your boyfriend, hell, you loved the idea, but it surprised you, and you were about to respond but a knock on the door stopped you.

It was room service and for a few minutes you couldn’t say much.

Once the servers left the room and Seungcheol ws setting up the plates you decided to speak.

“Cheol. I like kitten.”

“Hm?”

“I feel like as my boyfriend you should know what I like,” you said making him grin.

“I like kitten, darling and sometimes baby,” you added.

“What else do you like?” Seungcheol asked.

“You.”

“Oh? What a coincidence because I also like you.”

#seventeen #seungcheol #scoups #svthub.collab #seventeen smut #svthub #kvanity #thekpopuniverse #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst

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alovesongtheywrote · 8 months

Note

nightmare academia puts me through the ringer EVERY TIME and i love it

♥ Summary: in a few chapters, it's gonna get worse!! for now tho... In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, case stuff ensues and you prepare for heartbreak. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: cops. cops being terrible, cops exploiting the system, and cops shaming a woman for being a sex worker. also, violence, implied violence, and past violence.

♥ A/N: holy shit, this chapter is Very Long

♥ Word Count: 4885

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

In the weeks that followed, Spencer brought the BAU to you. Of course, not everyone could make it. Kate Callahan was off raising her children. Penelope Garcia was the target of several hitmen (whereas Frank was probably the target of a single hitman. Massive difference. Trust me.) And Derek Morgan remained at Quantico with Garcia- so you really weren’t sure what to expect. The agents you had the strongest feelings about were out of commission. The last time you’d met his team it did not uh, how would you put it? End well? So you were- justifiably- a touch guarded.

That changed. Eventually.

It started with Adam.

At that point in the investigation, local law enforcement had only shown your friend cruelty, distrust, and skepticism. Honestly? You were about to start biting people about it. (Yeah, maybe it would have gotten you arrested, but at that point, you did not care. At the very least, biting would make you feel productive.) You were well and truly prepared for Spencer’s law enforcement team to behave in a similar manner to the local cops- and to be honest, you probably should have been. Most Feds would carry that same suspicion and distrust, and if they didn’t they were probably faking it to try and get a confession.

The BAU, however, are not most Feds. For several reasons. Either way, you were well and truly prepared to maul the next person who treated your friend like garbage, fed or otherwise. There was never a need.

The BAU showed Adam basic decency. They didn’t talk down to him or dismiss him as a demeaning stereotype- and yes, that was the barest of bare minimum, but it was still something. While they regarded him with mild suspicion for the first like, two minutes, it only took the team that same two minutes to come to the conclusion that Adam was innocent. After that, the BAU was just as dedicated to clearing Adam’s name as you were.

“Adam had an incredibly emotional response when we mentioned Frank,” Hotchner explained to the local detectives, “He’s genuinely devastated by what happened. He couldn’t have done this. Even if he did attack Frank, it wouldn’t have been a clinical hit.”

“Emotions tend to make things messy- we would have seen something much more personal, with more violence and more remorse,” Rossi added.

The detectives did not listen. The detectives did not care.

“I’d say a gunshot wound is pretty messy,” one laughed.

“Yeah,” another jumped in, “Try telling the vic’ that things aren’t messy.”

You bit your tongue to keep from screaming, but you didn’t stay entirely silent. If the detectives weren’t going to give a shit on their own, then you were going to make them.

“Have you actually?” you asked, crossing your arms, “Have you spoken to the victim?”

“Eh, someone else got around to it,” the first detective asked, looking at his partner with the special kind of uncertainty that came with getting called out.

“Did you read the report, then?”

“Well, I’m on the case, aren’t I?”

“Answer the question, detective.”

In the telling silence that followed, Rossi had to turn away to hide his (failed) attempt to suppress a grin. Hotchner looked proud, despite not knowing you very well. Spencer looked like he might grab you by the waist and kiss you until you were out of breath. He didn’t, though, for lots of reasons- his boss was there, he hadn’t asked you if you’d like to be kissed, there was more serious stuff to focus on, and like… you already looked fucking pissed.

The detectives just looked embarrassed.

“I- uh. I’ve skimmed it,” the first detective stuttered out.

“Yeah, cool, not good enough,” you nabbed the case file from a nearby desk and pressed it into the officer’s hands, “Consider reading the report. You’ll find that the victim disagrees with you.”

Both detectives stared at the file as if they were seeing it for the first time- as if they were seeing a file for the first time. You sighed.

“Detective, if I may ask, how much overtime have you put in on this case?” the man in front of you blanched at your question. You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so fucking angry, “Cool. I thought so.”

“Ough,” Rossi winced with faux sympathy, “Overtime? And you haven’t even read the case file?”

“Hey, we’ve been very busy these last few weeks!”

The second officer nodded, “Just last week, we had five break-ins in the downtown area.”

“Alright, I’ll accept that,” you turned to leave before doubling back, “But before I go, I need to ask- do you care about the wellbeing of the break-in vics the way you care about this case? Do you care about all victims so dearly? Or do you treasure their testimony the way you “treasure” the testimony in this case?”

“What? What are you saying, what do you-”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume it’s the latter.”

“What? Okay, what the hell do you know about police work-!”

“They’re an expert criminologist,” Spencer said, seething slightly.

“Dr. Reid is right. I know a thing or two about crime- and if I’m just gonna put it this way. I’ve seen the data. I’ve heard testimony from victims and offenders. I know the local and nationwide statistics for unreported crimes. You’re concerned about the victim hearing that his case isn’t messy? Look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never told a victim that their situation- their serious situation- was a waste of police time.”

The officers couldn’t look at your face, much less your eyes. You had done what you needed to do.

“You wanna solve crimes? You wanna be the hero? Then take a goddamned ethics class, read your fucking case files, care for your community, and do your fucking job.”

The detectives tried in vain to defend themselves. They were unsuccessful- especially in the face of the three FBI agents that immediately backed you up.

“Dr. (L/N) is right. The number of unreported crimes will astound you,” Rossi said, smirking like the little shit that we all know he is.

“This is especially prevalent with sexual assault cases, theft and scams, and other crimes where the victim may feel a sense of embarrassment- or crimes where the victim feels like their case won’t be taken seriously,” Spencer added in a very Spencer-like way.

“And everything you need to know about this crime is in the file. If you’d read it, you’d know that the victim is very insistent that your guy didn’t do it, and one could say that, oh, I don’t know, he’s a strong eyewitness. He is the victim and all,” Rossi continued, getting their asses.

They struggled to respond, “Well- I- We-”

“And even if you discount the eyewitness testimony, there’s still the matter of alibis and ballistics. Security cameras have placed Adam away from the community center at the time of the shooting. The ballistics aren’t a match to any weapon that Adam has ever come into contact with. Even if they were a match, he hasn’t handled a weapon since his release from prison as a condition of his parole. But if you had checked the file, you’d know that,” Hotch added, also smirking like a little shit, but with a slight edge to it- that edge, kids, is called “pissed off authority figure.”

“Hey, it-”

“It just sounds like poor police work to me,” Spencer had the biggest smirk of all- the smirk of a little shit who’s proud of his team and of his hot co-professor, “Had you actually done any of your research, you would realize that the suspect you have in custody is being held on police bias and circumstantial evidence. Any good lawyer can get this case thrown out, and then where will you be?”

His smirk turned to a full grin when you shot him a small smile of your own.

The detectives continued to sputter out responses. For once, the second one spoke, “Now, we may not be fancy FBI agents, but this precinct has a solid track record of convictions-”

“Were those convictions based on circumstance and bias?” Neither detective answered Spencer’s question. He continued, “Even if this precinct had a perfect track record, that wouldn’t make it invulnerable to mistakes- and even if it did, you would still have the responsibility of approaching each case like professionals to ensure the wellbeing of victims, suspects, and families.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” you slid forward, putting a hand on Spencer’s arm, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to go speak with the victim. His name is Frank, by the way.”

And just like that, you pulled Dr. Spencer Reid away- and he did not resist in the slightest. In fact, he held the door open for you as you exited the precinct. Rossi was pretty sure he saw the kid get behind the wheel.

As the detectives scurried away with their tails between their legs, the older agent let out a long whistle.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that our young Dr. Reid is officially smitten.”

“He was smitten the last time we were here,” Hotch said, pulling another copy of the case file from seemingly nowhere- one of his many unit chief powers.

“Yeah, yeah, but this time it’s bad. Garcia’s gonna be mad that she didn’t get to see it.”

Hotch nodded, solemnly.

“Y’know, I think the three of them combined could probably take down the whole FBI.”

“You’re right,” Hotch snapped the file closed with a tiny little proud-dad-type smile, “We’re awfully lucky that they’re focused on something else at the moment.”

Missy got your guard to drop further.

Initially, she was hesitant to have the Feds drop in on Frank’s case- you both were. You were used to local law enforcement treating her like shit. You didn’t stand for it- every time a cop or lawyer so much as dared to look at her wrong, you bared your teeth like a damn dog and threatened to bite where it would hurt. Y’know. Lawsuits. Missy wasn’t exactly a pushover, either. She was one of the strongest people you knew, and you were well aware that she could hold her own. If Missy wanted to be scary, she could be fucking terrifying.

Still, it was a little exhausting to fight all these battles against people in positions of authority who were so convinced that their series of events was correct, and anyone who went against it was nothing more than a lying ex-con. Having the BAU in your pockets certainly helped with that.

“I already told you what happened. I’ll tell you a thousand more times if I have to, but the story isn’t going to change,” Missy groaned, voice muffled as she buried her face in her hands.

“Okay, then. We’ll go over your testimony again. A few more times, if you don’t mind,” One of the local detectives smirked, ignoring the death glare you sent her way.

“Fine. Frank was walking me to the community center. I was taking a class on resume writing. It was cloudy, not raining, but cold. We came around the side of the building when a man in a leather jacket walked around the corner.”

“And what did this man do?”

“He- he shot Frank. He tried to kill my-” she took a shaky breath. You put a hand on her arm, aiming for gentle comfort and reassurance. Missy nodded, letting you know you’d hit your target.

“Did you see his face?” The officer continued.

“No. He was wearing one of those bike helmets that block off the person’s eyes- but I swear, it wasn’t Adam. This guy was too bulky. Adam’s made of wires, he needs to eat more.”

“You seem to have a lot of affection for Adam,” the detective leaned forward, “Now, we know you’ve claimed to be in a relationship with Frank- but could you describe your relationship with Adam for us?”

“I already said it! I took a couple classes with him! He’s a friend, that’s all.”

“Mhmm. That’s all. And in your previous line of work- the one that earned you a prison sentence of twelve months and a little over minimum wage- you had a lot of ‘friends,’ yes?”

“Excuse me?” your fingers bit into the table that separated you from the cop. You had half a mind to jump over the thing and throttle the smug detective sitting before you.

“What?” Missy growled, “You think just because I used to hook I fuck all my friends now? I’ve taken a few classes with Doc (L/N), I haven’t fucked them!”

You nodded in solemn agreement. The detective shrugged this off, ignoring everything that came out of Missy’s mouth. When she spoke again, her voice rang with the faux pity of someone who held themselves leagues above Missy.

“You know, I can see why you were looking at writing up a resume- your old line of work is so degrading. You know you’re never the same, afterwards. You can never wash off the shame. You’ll always be a little broken. A little-”

“Okay, that’s enough-” you stood up, slamming your hands down on the table.

“Hey, fuck you, man-” Missy leaned forward, “Don’t tell me what hooking did to me. You don’t know me. You don’t fucking know.”

“And now you’re lashing out. Poor thing-”

“Detective Foy. A word,” Tara Lewis, a newer BAU agent who you hadn’t really had the pleasure of meeting materialized in the doorway like a perfectly timed ghost, ready to right some wrongs and keep you from committing a murder. Her request for a word was perfectly intimidating, disclosing the not-so-secret secret that the request itself was not actually a request.

“I’m sorry, Agent, I’m in the middle of an interrogation-”

“It’s not an interrogation. You’re questioning a witness. Agent Jareau will handle things from here. Now, a word?”

You and Missy watched as the detective slunk out of the room with her tail between her legs. Moments later, JJ joined you, but she didn’t bother to start a line of questioning. Instead, the three of you watched in giddy silence as Tara Lewis destroyed Detective Foy where she stood. You couldn’t hear her through the glass, but you could vaguely read the words, “You are a police officer meant to serve and protect the people in your community, and uphold the law. You should educate yourself on the law, and on what it means to serve and protect.” On her lips.

You could’ve been off on that translation, but either way, it was sick as fuck. By the time Tara was finished, you and Missy were barely holding back your laughter. You probably would’ve held it in if JJ hadn’t turned around with a pleased grin on her face.

“Ok, well, I’ve known Agent Lewis for about three minutes, and already I adore her,” you cackled.

“Oh, she’s excellent,” Missy said, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Well, we certainly like her,” Jennifer grinned, clearly proud of her teammate and happy to see that someone outside the BAU had taken notice.

A few moments later, Tara re-entered the room with a tired sigh on her lips. It didn’t take her long to realize that you were all staring right at her.

“What? What is it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, we just think, as a group,” you looked around like you were the leader of the world’s weirdest (and maybe coolest?) group project, “That you are, objectively, excellent.”

“Yep. Not bad for a Fed.”

Again, you nodded in agreement, “I concur.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, slightly confused, “Thank you?”

Missy gave Tara a thumbs up. You followed her lead. Not really knowing what else to do in this situation, and figuring there was no harm in joining the madness, Tara returned the thumbs up.

“Well, like we said, we’ll take over the questioning from here,” JJ took a seat as she spoke. Tara joined her at the table.

“So, after Frank was shot, did you see where the attacker went?”

“No. I was kind of focused on my partner bleeding on the ground.”

“That’s fair- but try to think back. Did you see anything in your peripheral vision? Did you hear anything?”

Missy paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, she still sounded lost in thought, “I heard a bike. It makes sense with the helmet- I think it might’ve been a Yamaha?”

“Wait, you can tell which brand a bike is by the sound?” you asked, not disbelieving Missy, but distracted by the new knowledge that a person could do such a thing.

“If you let me think about it, I could probably give you the make and model.”

“Holy shit, really?” your eyes were wide. Your expression betrayed just how bewildered and impressed you were by vehicle knowledge. It might’ve been basic knowledge, but fuck it, the author can’t drive.

“Oh, absolutely- different bikes make different sounds. Cars are similar,” Tara nodded her agreement.

“You can tell cars apart by their sounds!?”

“Yeah? Can’t you?” Missy turned to face you, slightly bemused.

“I can tell that they’re old? Or like, electric, I guess?”

“Okay, when this is all over, I’m giving you a lesson.”

“I’d like to get in on that,” Tara added.

“Excellent!” Missy smiled, “Now everyone shut up and let me think.”

The way the BAU treated Frank dragged your guard down further. They were gentle, but not dehumanizing or infantilizing. They just treated him like a human person, and you found that neat, and more importantly, Frank found that neat.

Also, the BAU laughed at Frank’s anecdotes and jokes. I will be fully honest. That was more of a relief to you, especially because a decent chunk of those anecdotes and jokes were about you murdering the shit out of Spencer Reid using nothing but your words.

It really started on that very first day, when you and Spencer had gone to visit Frank. He could see it from his hospital bed- Spencer’s hand on your shoulder, the way Spencer was very clearly trying to comfort you from some unknown upset, and that was it.

Frank said, “Wow. Those two have sure come a long way from Doc telling him to go die in a ditch.”

And JJ, who had been questioning him, choked on her coffee and wheezed out a, “What?”

And that was pretty much it. Frank explained that Spencer had pissed you off, you’d hit him with the “die in a ditch” thing, and he looked so sad that you literally forgave him the next day. (He left out the bit about the stabbing, because stabbing doesn’t just kill people, it kills moods.)

From then on, Frank was the premium source of gossip on you and Spencer. Of course, Missy got in on it, too.

When they told Rossi about the time you’d called Reid a “shit-licking asshole fed,” the agent laughed so hard that he literally couldn’t speak for a solid minute. Was he a big fan of the anti-fed talk? Not particularly. But you had gone at it with such gusto, and with such anger, that he couldn’t help but cackle.

You knew none of this, but you knew that everyone involved seemed happier after the BAU took the case. That was good enough for you.

Your guard fell because of Spencer.

Wasn’t that always the way this was going to go?

While the BAU took care of your friends, Spencer took care of you. He made sure you got home safe. He kept you in the loop about everything case-relevant. He made sure you remembered to eat, which was kind of hypocritical of him, but oh well. He offered to drive you to and from the hospital, which was a fun kind of hell, because the man obeyed every traffic law ever made, but you got to bully him for it, so it all evened out in the end. He distracted you from the nightmare you were living through by offering fun facts. He made the nightmare better just by being him.

And he was the one to get Adam out.

He didn’t announce this victory to you. He just showed up one day, at the hospital, following behind Adam as the newly freed man burst into Frank’s room.

“Frank! Hey, are you good man? I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, I would’ve been, but you know how it is with cops.”

“Shit, dude,” Frank beamed, “All things considered, I’m not too bad.”

“Holy shit, Adam?” you let out a hospital-appropriate screech.

“Oh my god,” Missy stood from her place at Frank’s bedside to give him a hug. For a moment, she held him so tightly that it looked like Adam legitimately couldn’t breathe.

The moment she saw Spencer lingering in the background, she switched from one wire-shaped man to the next. Spencer hugged her back politely, and then, in an instant, she was onto you.

“You sons of bitches did it! You actually did it!”

“Did we?” you asked Spencer, lowering your voice as Missy, Frank, and Adam enjoyed their reunion.

“We did,” Spencer confirmed, stepping closer to you until you were side to side, whispering to each other to avoid disturbing your friends, “We found bank statements proving that this was a targeted hit, unrelated to Adam. We’ve only been able to find the unsub’s side so far, but it won’t take us long to find whoever contracted him.”

“Shit- that’s both really good and mildly fucking terrifying.”

“I know,” Spencer answered almost too quickly, but he covered it up just as fast, “But it means that Adam is a free man. It’s almost over, (Y/N).”

You let out a small exhale, trying to maintain some semblance of calm, “Almost. Thank you, Spence. For all of this, for everything-”

“You don’t need to thank me. It wasn’t just the new evidence.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, there was this local criminology professor, maybe you’ve heard of them. They were incredibly insistent that law enforcement look deeper into the case, and because of them, the conviction vanished.”

A smile slipped onto your face as you turned to face him, “Was that a joke, Spence? You’re doing ha-ha funny jokes now?”

“I’m saying you did a good thing, here, (Y/N). Look,” he nodded towards the hospital bed, where your friends were talking, beaming, clinging to each other’s hands like they’d been shot, traumatized, and separated for months- which was an accurate summary, actually.

At your side, you let your hand slip into Spencer’s, weaving your fingers between his slender ones. You felt his grip tighten, his palm pressed tightly to yours. His hands were warm.

“We did a good thing,” you whispered.

You pulled him closer by the hand. You weren’t harsh or forceful, but Spencer still stumbled into you with what can only be described as a somewhat lovestruck grin on his face.

And then his phone rang.

You watched his face fall as he answered it. His fingers drifted away from yours. You could almost hear Hotchner’s voice on the other end. The call only lasted a few moments, but it changed everything. The air in the room grew heavy. The room fell silent.

“We found the unsub. My team is confronting him now, I-” he paused.

“They want you to go with them.”

“I have to.”

A shaky breath escaped your lungs, and you were kinda pissed at it- how dare that shaky breath reveal how you actually felt? How dare it break free from your body, alerting Spencer that your world had just spun out sideways for the millionth time that week.

You were gonna square up with that fucking breath.

But first, without saying another word, you nodded towards the door. Spencer nodded back. Like that, he was gone. You watched him go. You stared at the empty doorway after he’d left. The room remained silent.

I mean, it did until it didn’t- your friends couldn’t watch that and say nothing. I don’t think anybody could.

“Holy shit, you’re just gonna let him leave without saying goodbye?” Adam asked, looking between you and the door so quickly that you were almost surprised that his head didn’t fly off.

“He’s down bad,” Frank whispered, nodding in agreement, “Go get him.”

“I- he’s gonna be back in five minutes,” you tried to reason. It didn’t work.

“He could be back never! He might die!” Missy ran forward, gripping your shoulders.

“He’s got a bulletproof vest-”

“THERE IS SO MUCH THOSE THINGS DON’T COVER!!” Missy progressed to shaking you, slightly, “Go get him! Hurry, before it’s too late!”

“I really don’t know what you want me to say here.”

“Tell him you’re also down bad!” Frank exclaimed, no longer whispering.

“Down bad-? What the fuck does that even mean,” you said, your voice growing quieter and quieter as you left the room and headed down the hallway.

“... Y’know, they taught me what ‘down bad’ means.”

“Same.”

As your friends continued to discuss, you were already halfway down the hallway, walking as fast as you could given the hospital setting. Spencer was nowhere to be seen and you really didn’t have time to look. You really had one choice. The elevators.

You reached them just in time to watch that lanky noodle motherfucker step inside.

Giving up on decorum, you raced through the hospital corridor, yelling out apologies at every human person you passed- fortunately there weren’t too many, so it wasn’t like you caused a massive disturbance. Most people just thought you were having your rom-com finale moment. Maybe some part of you was trying to, but honestly, you weren’t really thinking about it. You were mostly just thinking, “Shit, shit, shit, I have to get in that elevator.”

And you did! You made it! You stumbled through the doors and came to a stop in the middle of that tiny box. Spencer reached out to steady you, his expression letting you in on his amused confusion. You smiled up at him, trying not to pant- and then you came to a realization.

You had no fucking clue what the hell you were going to say.

To be fair, what the fuck is a person supposed to say in that situation? “Heyyyy, my friends think I’m in love with you, so now I’m here, wanna talk about that before you head into a dangerous situation involving a hitman and many guns?”

Or perhaps, “Hey! You’re a good person even though I keep insisting you aren’t one, so I want you to know that you’re a good person before I send you off to get murdered!”

Or maybe, “You’re hot, I’m hot, wanna spend the next thirty seconds doing terrible things to this elevator that will get us forcibly removed from this hospital?”

Or even, “Hi, you just did a really nice thing for my friends, and I really appreciate it, and even though I don’t express it, I do care about you a lot, so maybe don’t die in the next few hours. For me. Please.”

In the end, you just settled for, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Spencer replied, not taking his hands from your shoulders even though you were more than steady, “Is everything okay?”

“Okay? Yeah, yeah, everything is, um. Everything’s fine. I just-” you froze again, because seriously, what the fuck could you say right then and there? What could you say that would let him know everything you wanted him to know?

“Are you sure?” he looked at you, held you with such delicate concern. You kind of wanted to partake in elevator ruining activities with Spencer until the two of you got kicked out of the hospital together.

“Yeah- yeah! Everything’s- I’m okay, it’s just,” you raised your hand, letting it hover between the two of you for a moment before you placed it over one of his, “Come out of this alive. Make sure everyone else does, too, but… come out of this okay, okay?”

Spencer hesitated. And then he wrapped his hand around yours and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles ever so briefly.

“I will. I promise.”

The elevator bell dinged. You’d reached the parking lot. Spencer let go of your hand with a different kind of hesitation.

“I’ll see you soon,” he offered, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Spencer disappeared into the parking lot, dashing out of sight and into danger. You stood there, watching until the elevator doors slid shut and that infernal box pulled you back up again. The humming metal lights above and the clanking metal around you harmonized into the perfect soundscape for your empty mind.

Spencer was heading into danger, as he always did. You were returning to serve your community, as you always did. Spencer might not come back, and you would always remain, and you realized that when the case was over, he would go back to Quantico with the BAU, and you probably wouldn’t see him ever again.

And it broke your heart a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit. A little bit, perhaps.

You were a long way from, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, go die,” indeed.

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