#like we all barely have like 6 months together then everyone goes their separate ways and I don't have it in me to deal with it again

[hershey-the-confused]

I've been trying to be social past few days by going to stuff and no it did NOT help instead i drained all my energy and had to sleep it off .

[thatbritishactor]

Adventures in Success (part 10)

Adventures in Success (part 10)

Paring : Ben Barnes x Reader

Summary:  Ben’s agent is retiring and the firm wants you to represent him. It’s going to be hard for you not to mix work with feelings.

Warning: None, language (cursing).

Words: 3,300

Type :  Fluff

Part 1     Part 2       Part 3       Part 4       Part 5      Part 6    Part 7   Part 8  Part 9

I.

You’ve been officially dating for two months, but it feels like you’ve been together for longer. You’ve met all of Ben’s close friends, and you’ve introduced him to a few of yours. You’ve had to deal with feelings of betrayal on their part: how dare you keep your relationship a secret for so long? You’ve been scolded and met with incomprehension, but as soon as they met him, they were instantly enthralled by him. Ben knows how to win people over: his effortless charm, wits and kindness conquer everyone around him.

You still spend most of your time at his place, finding it unbearable to be away from him. Thankfully, he seeks your company as much as you seek his, and time flies by when you’re together. It’s taken a toll on your work, you’re not as dedicated as before, and your boss is starting to notice. Before, your job came before everything else. You worked an average of fifty hours a week, dividing your time between script reading, meeting your actors, callings producers and casting directors.

Today, Ben comes before your work, even before your friends. You know that some of it isn’t healthy, and that you shouldn’t prioritize your relationship over everything else. But you can’t resist him, and you’re at your happiest when you’re with him. He seems to struggle as well, avoiding castings, not reading as many scripts as he used to. Whenever you start to get anxious about it, you quickly dismiss it, one glance at Ben is enough to dissolve all your fears. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and you intend to hold onto and fight for your relationship with everything you’ve got.

By the end of November, Ben has to leave for London, and the heart ache induced by your imminent separation keeps growing. You’ve spent the better part of a year wanting him so badly it hurt you, and now that you finally have him, you can’t imagine how you’re going to be able to go back to a life without him.

Your feelings for him scare you, for they seem to get stronger every day. You thought that you were already done for when you weren’t even dating him, but it’s getting even worse. Somehow, waking up next to him every day is even better than what you had ever imagined. Although, you know that this is the easy bit: the honeymoon phase. The part where you love everything about the person you’re newly dating and can’t imagine ever picking a fight with them. You know that someday, his flaws will get to you, and that you’ll find him annoying. But today, you just can’t imagine that you’ll ever come to hate anything about him.

Sure, he’s a distracted person. He forgets things, he daydreams a lot, and he’s a people pleaser. Something inside him pushes him to accommodate everyone around him, and you can see that it might trigger your insecurities someday. But for now, you simply adore him, and you want to indulge in those feelings as much as possible. You’re incredibly nervous about the upcoming separation: Ben has to be in London for at least four months, and you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle it. You’ve come up with a plan though, but you haven’t told him, wanting to surprise him.

The night before his departure, you’re lying in bed with him, tightly pressed against his chest. He places soft kisses on your forehead, and you can feel the regular pounding of his heart, lulling you to sleep.

You’re tired and your eyes close by themselves, but you refuse to drift away, because when you’ll wake up, you’ll have to take him to the airport, and you’ll be apart -again- for months. You’ve realized that apart from your anxiety, it’s the separations that pose the biggest threat to your relationship. But this man is so worth it, you think, his fingers slowly caressing your bare back; you’d do anything for him.

“Do you want me to turn off the light?” he murmurs, and you sigh, closing your eyes and rubbing your nose on his chest.

“No… I don’t want to sleep” you lie, and Ben chuckles.

“I can see you’re totally falling asleep, love” he says, and your heart misses a bit at the term of endearment. You haven’t told him you love him yet, although the words are demanding to escape your lips. You haven’t loved anyone the way that you love him, and your feelings for him are so obvious, it’s embarrassing. Something’s keeping you from uttering the words though: the fear that it’d scare him away. You’ve been together for two months, it’s too soon. You’re so deathly afraid of losing him, you don’t completely allow yourself to surrender to your feelings yet.

Ben calls you love though, and sweetheart, sometimes dear, and it’s the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard, making you melt into a puddle every time. You wonder if he wants to tell you he loves you too, but you dismiss the thought, distracted by Ben moving against you.

“All right, I’m shutting the light” he says, and you lift your head to protest.

“Nooooo” you whine, and he laughs, his arms holding you impossibly closer to him.

“What is it?” he asks, “I can see that you’re incredibly sleepy.��

“I don’t want to go to sleep, because I don’t want to be tomorrow” you reply, and you bury your face against his chest to hide your face. He sighs and rubs his cheek on your hair, and you raise your head to meet his dark eyes.

“I know, me neither” he admits, and you can hear the longing in his voice.

“It sucks” you reply, and he gently pushes a strand of hair away from your face.

“Tell me about it” he replies, pensive.

You let go of him and lean back, and he slowly lets you go, looking curious.

“At least you’re going to meet Phoebe Waller Bridge” you say, trying to change the subject, resting your head on your hand.  “I’m so jealous” you add.

Ben smiles, his eyes soft, and your heart clenches in your chest. He’s eerily beautiful, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to that. He takes your breath away twenty times a day, and you still can’t believe that you’re the lucky woman who gets to be with him.

“Want me to ask her stuff?” he asks, his beautiful black eyes appraising you.

“I’d have to write it down” you joke “I have so many questions for her”.

“Go ahead” he replies, sliding a hand through his hair. “I’ll ask her.” He says with a smirk on his lips.

“You’d do that for me?” you mock in a high voice, putting a hand on your chest and dramatically batting your eyelashes.

Ben lets out a laugh “Anything for the one I love”, he replies, and you instantly stop breathing. Ben doesn’t seem phased at all, getting back to slowly caressing your arm, his eyes following the movements of his fingers, while your voice is stuck somewhere in your throat. When the silence thickens, he glances back at you, frowning.

“Is everything all right?” he asks, seeming worried.

You blink stupidly, a lump in your throat.

“Y… yeah” you reply, lowering your eyes, your heart beating fast in your chest.

“C’mon, I know you by now” he sighs “I know when something’s bothering you” and there is that smile again, the one that could make snow melt.

“You’ve just said you loved me” you mutter, putting a hand over your eyes, unable to meet his gaze. He laughs again, before placing a hand on the side of your face, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for a year now, don’t tell me this comes as a surprise” he says in an incredulous voice, and you close your eyes, unable to handle the storm of emotions overwhelming you.

When you open them again, he’s still gazing at you, the softest expression on his face, and you lean in to kiss him.

“I love you too” you whisper against his lips, and his hands cup your face before they slide in your hair. You roll on your back, his weight on top of you, your heart seeming to burst in your chest.

II.

It’s become a ritual now: you play the music from Bo Burnham’s Inside in the morning while you’re both getting ready, and the two of you sing along to the soundtrack, knowing each song by heart. You’ve made the coffee and helped him finish packing his suitcase, something he’s told you before he struggles with. Being an organized, neat person, you secretly love packing and tidying things up, so you’re thrilled to help him. Ben has joked about you being perfect for each other, your orderliness completing his messiness, and you’ve laughed, pretending to be chill about it, ignoring your accelerated heartbeat and the warmth spreading in your chest. He could ask you to marry him right then and there, and you’d accept immediately. You’re so done for, you think to yourself, rolling your eyes as you watch him slide his backpack on, wearing his usual cap and sunglasses.

You sing in the car, and he teases you when the song “Sexting” comes on, taking you back to the time you got drunk and sent it to him. You were embarrassed at first, blushing and hiding your face away, before owning it and deciding that it was unintentional sure, but a badass move nevertheless.

The ride to the airport goes fast, and you hold hands while you walk through LAX. You’re less skittish than before about public displays of affection, thinking that if the world must find out about your relationship, so be it. You’ve lost so much time before because of your insecurities, you’ve promised to yourself that you wouldn’t let anything get in the way from now on. Ben registers his bags, and you arrive at the security gates when he turns over and holds you tightly in his arms. You hug him back, feeling like your heart is getting crushed with a hammer, struggling with yourself not to cry.

“It’s four months”, you say against his chest, “We can do this”. He nods and cups your face with both hands, staring into your eyes.

“I’ll call you as soon as I land?” he asks, looking uncertain.

“Yes, please” you reply, oddly out of breath. You stare into his deep obsidian eyes, your hands resting at his hips, and he leans in to kiss you. You close your eyes, surrendering to the soft feelings of his lips moving against yours, silently wishing for time to stand still.

“All right, I have to go” he whispers against your lips, and you smile, nodding.

“I love you” you breathe, looking back into his eyes, and he grins, making your heart drop in your chest. How is it possible for a person to be that beautiful? This should be illegal, you think to yourself, frowning.

“I love you too, sweetheart” he replies, and he kisses you one more time before he lets go of you, squeezes your hand, and turns over to go through the gates.

You stand there for a few minutes, your heart pounding hard in your chest, the sounds of the airport muffled around you before you find the strength to go home.

III.

“You wanna do what?” Rebecca asks, looking puzzled.

“I’ve been in touch with actresses in London for a few weeks now, and I think that I should go meet them to try and win them over” you explain, straightening your back against your chair.

You’ve asked for a meeting with your boss this morning, eager to submit your plan to her. You’ve been thinking about it for a while, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t accept the fact that Ben’s departure for London had been the incentive.

Although your agency is always looking for new talent, and you’re currently managing some of the hottest British talents in Hollywood, you know that they’d trust your judgement.

“Which actresses?” Rebecca asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Michaela Coel and Daisy Edgar Jones” you reply without breaking eye contact.

Rebecca arches her eyebrows, seeming impressed, before she purses her lips and turns a bit to glance out of the window.

“Honey, you know that you’re one of our most successful agents” she starts, and you brace yourself, knowing that a “but” is imminent.

“But I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed distracted lately” she adds, looking back at you.

You look away, crossing your legs, feeling uneasy. Yes. You can’t deny that.

“I know, I’m sorry” you reply honestly, knowing that lying wouldn’t take you anywhere.

“You know that I try and pay no mind to gossip” Rebecca says, the ghost of a smile dancing on her lips “But I couldn’t help but notice that ever since you dropped the Barnes account, you’ve been a little… elsewhere”, and she looks into your eyes, a kind expression on her face. You try not to blush, a warm feeling spreading over your chest, and you decide not to reply anything.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled for you” she says, still smiling “And Andrew was more than happy to take over as his agent.” You nod, not knowing where this is going.

Rebecca takes a breath and straightens her back before she leans against her desk, joining her hands.

“You were working too much before, anyway” she says, “But I’m wondering if taking new actors would be the right fit for you right now”.

“Oh.” You reply, taken aback. “I see.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d never say no to new clients, especially the ones you’ve approached. Promising, promising new talent, these two.” She says pensively, looking away.

“I know that I’ve been distracted lately” you start, wanting to be sincere “But I’m genuinely excited to meet them, and I know that I’d be the right fit for them”.

Rebecca glances back at you: “Are you sure? You already have a lot on your plate” she replies, seeming skeptical.

“Perhaps I just need fresh accounts” you venture, “Something new and exciting”.  

She stares at you for a moment, searching your expression.

“You know what” she starts “Go to London, try and broach them, and if you succeed, we’ll find a way to make this work” she proposes.

“Deal” you say, offering her your hand, and she shakes it.

“You’re going to London” she says gleefully.

“I’m going to London” you reply, smiling widely.

IV.

Ben was more than thrilled when you announced that you’d meet him in a month, impressed by your scheme. He told you that it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for him, and you had blushed and put your face in your hands, shaking your head.

“You don’t think that it’s stalky or creepy?” you had asked, watering your plants while you were talking to him on the phone.

“I mean, it totally is” Ben had laughed “But if it means that I get to see you, I don’t care” he added, and you hummed in agreement, distracted by the fact that you’d soon be in his arms, where you seemed to belong now.

December went fast, and you were glad that Ben was his family to celebrate Christmas. You’d fly two days before New Years Eve, and you’d meet Michaela on January second, and Daisy the next day. You’d spend a total of seven days with Ben, and you couldn’t wait.

You arrive Sunday morning in London, feeling tired and jetlagged, but seeing Ben’s face at the arrival gates fills you with more joy than you have ever experienced before. He joins you in quick strides and grips you tight, exhaling loudly and snaking his arms around your waist; raising you in the air like he had done months ago, before you had admitted your feelings to each other. You throw your arms around his neck and kiss him passionately, you heart threatening to jump out of your chest.

“God, I’ve missed you” he says against your lips, putting you back gently on the ground, his hands moving from your hips to your face.

“Tell me about it” you reply, out of breath, staring into his beautiful eyes.

“Ready to explore the city?” he asks, smiling widely.  “Or do you want to go back to my place and get some sleep?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

You think for a split second, blushing a bit “I mean… We’ll have time to chill later” you reply, “Let’s do some sightseeing” and you smile widely.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and he puts a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking down at you tenderly.

“I’m up for anything as long as I’m with you” you say, shrugging, and you know that the answer is beyond cheesy, but you’re unable to restrain yourself. He chuckles and gently pokes your nose with his, and you distinctively feel butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“First, an English breakfast” he says, and you wince, dreading the British food “Then, let’s be tourists” he says, and he kisses you gently. You sigh, melting under his touch. He’s worth enduring British food, for sure.

Ben takes you to the Naval Royal College in Greenwich, wanting to show you the Painted Hall. It’s known as the British Sistine Chapel, and he plays the tourist guide again, like he had done in Venice. You hold hands throughout the whole visit, stealing kisses and being amazed at his extensive knowledge of art history.

“Did you research all this to impress me again?” you ask, teasing him. Ben rolls his eyes, smiling.

“Of course, I did, what’d you expect?” he replies, kissing your cheek, and you giggle, endeared.

He shows you the Millennium Bridge, asking if you want to go inside St Paul’s cathedral, but you’re starting to feel a bit tired from all the walking and the flight.

“All right, one more place I want to show you, and then you’ll take a nap” he suggests, and you nod, reaching for his hand to hold. You walk for fifteen minutes when you reach a pretty street, and you enter what seems to be a park with a church in it. You frown, perplexed, when you finally see why he’d want to take you there. The church is in ruins, vegetation growing everywhere. It looks beautiful and romantic, and you understand why Ben wanted you to see it so badly. You walk among the ruins, gasping at the shady trees and the quietness of the place. It doesn’t seem like you’re in the heart of the busy city, the place looks magical with the sun setting in the distance.

“Oh, this is so pretty” you whisper, and Ben takes you to a bench for you to sit. He throws an arm around your shoulder, and he places a kiss on your temple.

“This place reminds me of you” he says quietly, and you look at him, surprised.

“How so?” you ask. He seems to ponder for a while before he replies.

“It makes me feel safe, quiet, like nothing else exists.” And his voice is soft, making your stomach clench. You blush, feeling overwhelmed. What did you do to deserve him again? This is crazy, you think to yourself, looking away, feeling crushed with too many emotions.

“What is it?” he asks, still gazing at you.

“I’m just tired” you reply, and you put your head on his shoulder, breathing deeply and closing your eyes.

“What’s our plan for New Year’s?” you ask, opening your eyes. Ben has teased you before that he had a plan but wanted to surprise you. You feel him chuckle and look up at him.

“I was thinking… It might be time for you to meet my parents” he says easily, and your heart stops in your chest. You look at him, your breath shallow, and Ben laughs at your expression, seeming satisfied with himself.

“It’ll be alright, Love” he says, caressing your hair. “I promise.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Heyyyy heyyyyy!!!! Look who’s updating after two months ?? It’s meeee.

Hope you like this part, it’s just pure fluff. I want them to be happy and to explore the next step of their relationship.

Tell me your thoughts and feelings about this ? It might inspire me to write part 11 !!

Byeee <3

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[reciprocityfic]

6 x amylaurie

6. scenes fully without context.

author's note: hi, anon! i know the prompt said only one scene, but i felt that to make it truly without context, i had to make the scene really short. so i wrote four short scenes, all without context. none of them are connected - four separate scenes, four separate universes.

***

unexpected

He hasn’t said anything for at least a minute, and it’s making her freak out even more than she already was.

So she starts rambling, staring down at her feet.

“Listen, you don’t have to do anything.  I know...I mean, we’re not even technically together .  No strings attached is what we decided, right?  And this is like, the biggest string ever.  So I’m not gonna hold you to anything.  I’m making the choice to go through this.  Me, not you.  So you’re not obligated -”

“Shut up,” he interrupts, breathless.

She looks up, confused and a little angry at his statement.

“Excuse m-”

Her words die in her throat when she sees his face.  There are tears in his eyes, and his mouth is turned up in something that almost looks like a smile.

“Laurie?” she asks cautiously.

“Shut up,” he says again, and then walks from his spot across the room, kneeling down in front of her.

He leans up and kisses her.  It’s soft and tender - the most tender kiss they’ve shared in the three months they’d been sleeping together.  He takes a shaky breath when they separate, and then kisses her again, quick but hard.

He leans forward, his hands coming up to wrap around the back of her neck, and rests their foreheads together.  She opens her eyes and sees that tears are falling down his face freely now, and his smile is more pronounced.

He stares at her almost in wonder, and it makes her start to cry, too.

He laughs gently, and then suddenly they’re both laughing.  Something like peace settles over them, and she thinks this is the first time she’s been purely happy since she found out.

He takes one of his hands, tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and then rests his palm over her stomach.

***

grief (trigger warning: miscarriage)

Some days are better than others.  Today was a bad day.

She’d barely looked at him, isolated herself, snapped at him constantly when they did interact.  He knows grief is funny.  That it manifests itself in different ways for everyone.  He knows he’ll never understand what she’s feeling.  And he tries not to let her unpleasant mood bother him, but it does.  He hates himself for it, but it bothers him all the same.

He lost something, too.  But he isn’t taking it out on her.

He considers confronting her about it that evening, after she scolds him for not placing the silverware out just so .  He knew better, she’d told him.  It didn’t matter, he’d told her.  She made a remark about him being too lazy, too careless, and he’d snapped back at her, finally.

She’d stared at him, then had gone upstairs without a word.

It was clear they couldn’t go on this way, so he decides to try to have a conversation about it, rather than confront her about it.   He goes into their bedroom, and finds it empty.  His brow furrows.  He’s about to call her name, when he hears something coming from the bathroom.

Awful noises.  His heart drops to his feet.

He walks over to the door, knocks on it gently.  There’s no answer - just the continuation of those horrible, choking noises.  He opens the door, because he can’t leave her in there that way alone.  He will not.

The scene in front of him makes his heart shatter, for another uncountable time in recent days.

She sits on the floor, her hands clutched over her stomach, wincing in pain as she sobs.

He’d overheard her telling Marmee yesterday that she was still cramping sometimes.  Her mother had said that was normal, that it might continue like that for a little while.

“Amy,” he breathes.

She looks up at him with red, watery eyes, but looks back down after a moment, curling further into herself.

Any annoyance he’d felt evaporates immediately, is replaced by concern for his wife.  The most important person in the world to him.

He gets on his knees and crawls across the floor to her, gathering her up in his arms and pulling her into his lap.  She doesn’t resist him.  He doesn’t think she has the strength to.  After a moment, she grabs at his collar and pulls him closer, turning her face into his chest.  Her tears soak through his clothes almost immediately.

He holds her, pressing his lips against the top of her head, his own tears starting to fall.

He’s not sure how long they sit there like that, clutching at each other, but eventually her tears begin to slow, her sobs shifting to small sniffles.  He pulls back slightly, so he can look at her.  He pushes a stray strand of hair out of her face, rubs at the moisture on her skin gently with his thumb.

“A hot bath might help with the pain,” he whispers to her.  “Do you want me to draw you one?”

“Yes, please,” she murmurs after a moment, in a shaky voice.

He helps up, leads her back into their bedroom so she can undress.  He helps her briefly - undoing the buttons at the back of her dress, unpinning her hair -  and then leaves her to do the rest as he gets to work on her bath.  She’s been hesitant to change her clothes in front of him the past few days, so he’s careful not to look at her in respect of her privacy.  When he’s finished, he finds her sitting on their bed, wrapped in a towel.  He takes her hand and leads her to the bathroom once more, helps her into the tub, averting his eyes until she’s under the water.

He grabs some soap and a rag and places them on a table next to the bath, and then stands.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” he tells her gently, running a hand over her hair.

She looks up, a frown on her face, her eyes still bloodshot.

“You’re not staying?” she asks.

He looks down at his feet shyly, stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“I didn’t know if I should.  I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”

“I want you to,” she breathes, and he looks up at her.  “I want you to,” she repeats, reaching out slowly and taking his hand.

It’s the first time she’s initiated contact with him in days.  Something almost like hope bubbles up inside of him.  He sheds his clothes quickly and then lowers himself into the warm water, sitting opposite of her in the tub, still making sure to give her the space she needs.

She reaches under the water, runs her fingers over his legs where they’re spread out in front of him, framing her hips.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.  “I know I’ve been short with you.”

He doesn’t answer.  Instead, he grabs her hand under the water, laces their fingers together.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admits, her voice wobbling with her emotion as she looks down.  “It feels...it feels like nothing will be alright ever again.”

She lets out a shaky breath that turns into another ugly sob.

Again, he doesn’t answer her.  He hasn’t a clue what to say, because he doesn’t know anything.  He doesn’t know when their pain will stop.  And while he’s confident things will be alright again, he doesn’t know when.

Instead, he reaches for her, because he can’t stand not to.  She comes easily, water sloshing over the sides of the tub as she adjusts herself against him.  He wraps one arm around her, uses the other hand to stroke her hair.  He drops his head to her shoulder, softly kisses her damp skin.

“I love you,” he tells her.

She doesn’t say it back, but she doesn’t need to.  He can feel it in the way she curls against him, in the way she buries her face in his neck as she cries.  In the way she still holds his hand under the water.

He knows that they will get through this.  That they will be stronger for it.

But for now, he just holds her, shutting his eyes, his own tears falling from behind closed eyelids.

***

love

“I never loved anyone before I loved you.”

He says it out of the blue one day, in the middle of washing dishes together.  She rolls her eyes.  That’s not true.  She tells him so.

“It is true,” he insists.  “You’re the first person I’ve ever been in love with.”

“Don’t make me bring her up,” she warns, giving him a sidelong glance.  His brow furrows for a moment before it dawns on him, and now he’s the one who rolls his eyes.

“We’ve been over this, Ames.”

“I know we have, Theodore,” she agrees.  “Which is why I know you’re lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

He almost sounds offended, and she sighs, turning to face him.  She opens her mouth to speak, but he beats her to it.

“That wasn’t love,” he begins.  “I thought it was, at the time, but it wasn’t.  I didn’t know what being in love was.  What it felt like.  I never knew, until I fell in love with you.”

She’s struck by the sincerity in his eyes, the earnestness.  Any arguments she was thinking of shrivels and dies.

“I love you, Amy,” he says gently.  “I’ve only ever loved you, and I’ll only ever love you.”

She knows that he loves her, of course.  But there’s something about the way he says it this time, his voice so soft, full of adoration and something like wonder.  Her vision blurs, suddenly, as unshed tears fill her eyes.

She sees the corners of his mouth tick up into a smile.  He’s about to tease her for crying, she knows.

“Shut up,” she tells him quickly.  “Don’t ruin the moment.”

He laughs, but doesn’t say anything.  Instead, he leans down, laces hands still covered in soapy water through her hair, and kisses her.

***

possessive

“Mine.”

He stares down at her as he thrusts himself inside of her, watching her breasts bounce every time he enters her.  He looks up at her face reluctantly - he wishes he could see everything, touch her everywhere, all at the same time - but is immediately gratified by what his gaze finds: her head thrown back, eyes closed, rhythmic moans pouring from her mouth.

“All mine,” he groans, not only to her, but to himself as well.  A reminder.  No matter who compliments her, who dances with her, who smiles at her, who gazes at her or embraces her for a moment too long, she’s his .

“Mine to touch, mine to kiss, mine to fuck ,” he says roughly, beginning to thrust harder, and she gasps, arching her neck up to him like an offering.  He takes it, kissing and biting and licking her skin as he makes his way up to her jaw.

He glances down at where they’re joined, watches as he slides himself in and out of her, their hips working in tandem.  He makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat.

“My girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my lord,” she answers, in between her moans.

He looks up once again, aligns their faces.  Their noses knock together as they move.  He presses a short, sloppy kiss to her open mouth.

“All mine,” he murmurs.

“Yes, Laurie.”

He runs his lips along her cheekbone, until his mouth is at her ear.

“Tell me,” he breathes, nipping her earlobe before pulling away. He reaches down between them so his fingers can rub at her.

“ Laurie ,” she moans, moving her hips faster against him.  “Laurie.”

“Tell me,” he groans, louder this time, and more insistent.

She breaks, comes apart around him, muscles spasming, as she moans loudly.  He almost puts his hand over her mouth to try and quiet her, but he decides against it.  Let them hear.  Let them all know .

He lets her come down from her high for a moment, and then catches the back of her knee with his arm, bending her leg up, thrusting deeper within her.  He turns his head so he can press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, when she reaches up, turns him towards her, cradles his face between her hands.

Their gazes lock.  Her eyes are full, her expression satisfied and greedy.

“Tell me,” he whispers.

“I’m yours,” she tells him, devoutly, like a worshiper speaking to their god.  “Only yours.”

He groans - again, too loud - but he doesn’t care, not after her words.  She wraps her arms around his back, collapsing him on top of her, snaking her hands into his hair, tugging on the strands. He buries his face into the crook of her neck, and speeds up his hips.

“And you’re mine,” she says.  “All mine.”

He comes apart at that, his rhythm stuttering, thrusting twice more before spilling himself inside her.  She hums as he fills her, as he moans brokenly against her.

He rocks his hips once more, lazily.  She smooths her hands over his hair, soothing him, whispering his name into the air.  He moves slightly, so that his head rests on the softness of her breasts.  Her chest moves up and down with her breathing, still heavy.

“My Amy,” he says quietly, closing his eyes.

“My love,” she answers back.

He smiles, and presses a kiss to her ribs.

a/n: unexpected is dedicated to @lovelacegsl, who thought i was going to do a pregnancy announcement with the "a shocking announcement" prompt. but i did angst instead. anyways, hope this makes up for it, dear!

love is based of a short laurie x amy meta i wrote the other day on my main blog, @kerilynnrussell. it was about how laurie and amy were both each other's first loves.

send me a number and a pairing (preferably laurie x amy) and i'll write you a mini fic!

[fruitcoops]

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

[boldlyvoid]

Hypothetically | Chapter 16-20

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

friends to lovers, case of the week style story

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

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

Word Count: 10k

chapter 16

It was 7 am when they got the call. Y/N had barely gotten any sleep that night, Spencer was adamant that laying on the left side helps maximize blood flow. Meaning she faced the wall all night with him happily cuddled into her back. She hated it.

Between peeing 100 times a day and the constant heartburn, she couldn’t really pick the worst part about creating a human.

It fuckin’ sucked and no one thought to warn her.

She dragged herself out of bed, trying her best to do her morning routine with only one eye open. Spencer, on the other hand, seemed to bounce out of bed like he slept 12 hours. Dancing around the kitchen as he poured his coffee and took a smoothie out of the fridge for Y/N.

He fed the cat, changed the litter and even took out the garbage by the time she pulled herself from the bathroom and to her closet.

Her jeans didn’t fit, she let herself take a minute to cry out of frustration in the closet before she looked for anything presentable. The only pants she could get into were a pair of leggings, and at that point, she didn’t care anymore. She was probably going to stay back with Penelope anyway.

She threw on an FBI sweater to hide her bump from the rest of her co-workers, grabbed the rest of her shit and followed Spencer to the car. Getting in the passenger seat and immediately closing her eyes again.

“Wake me up when we’re at Quantico,” she told him. Leaning against the window, ignoring the world.

Maternity parking was the only bonus, she only had to walk 4 feet from her car to the elevator. She felt lazy, but she was allowed to.

“Hopefully,” Spencer finally spoke to her as they entered the elevator. “At the end of this week, your energy should return as your placenta is done developing. You’re the most tired right now because your organs are working 3 times harder than they’re used to.”

“I’m tired because I had nothing to cuddle with all night, but thanks for the insight,” she tried her best to be cheery.

The door dinged, opening to the rest of the team standing in the entryway. “What’s up?” Y/N asked them.

“Hotch got a call, we’ve got a weird one coming in, he’s in his office talking to someone right now,” Morgan said. He looked just as tired as Y/N.

“Are we going in?” She asked, walking past them and towards the bullpen.

She rushed through the room and waddled up the stairs, searching for a chair before she actually passed out. Everyone followed her soon after, patting her back as they walked around the table to their seats.

“Over the past few months 6 feet have washed up on different beaches along the coast of Maine,” Penelope started explaining the case while Hotch was still on the phone in his office.

“6 feet belonging to 6 different people, all incredibly hard to identify. Interpol, Europol, the RCMP and the FBI have all been in communication with each other as no one knows where the feet washed in from. International Water laws prohibit just one of us from taking jurisdiction until we identify the nationality of the victims.”

“How are we going to Identify the feet?” Prentiss asked.

“We’re currently running the DNA against missing persons along the east coast as well as anyone who recently travelled to North America by boat, so far we don’t have any matches. We do know all 6 feet are white so hopefully, hopefully,” Garcia repeated for extra magic help, “this isn’t a refugee transport gone wrong.”

“We’ve been seeing an increase of boating accidents from Syrian refugees recently,” Spencer added. “The wars in the middle east are continuing to push people from their homes in mass numbers, meaning a lot of the boats are overpacked and capsize mid extraction.”

“So we’re probably looking at someone from North America who is using their own boat to sail out and release victims,” Y/N added. “Do we have the ME reports on the 6 feet?”

“Oh, yeah,” Garcia said, flipping through papers and handing them to her.

She read it over carefully, trying to see through her new blurred vision. Another wonderful pregnancy symptom. “Normally when feet wash up on shore, they’re in shoes. If a body is lost in a boating accident or drowning, the rubber soles will always want to float to the surface. When a body is decaying in water long enough the bones will separate, and when the ankle bone goes, the feet float to the surface,” Y/N explained.

“How do you just know that?” Rossi asked.

“In Nevada, we had a lot of drownings in a man-made lake, people would get stuck at the bottom on tree roots. And every year a few feet would wash up,” she added. “I only explained that because it says in the ME report that the feet were cut with a sharp blade, all clean cuts with no shoes or socks. So someone is cutting these bodies up and bringing them out to sea, probably to use as bait for a big catch.”

“It’s weird to me that the feet are the only parts washing up?” JJ’s face was absolutely puzzled as she flipped through the files.

“Not really,” Y/N argued, “I’m more concerned with why he’d even cut the feet, to begin with. With most shark attacks they go for full limbs, if I was the unsub and I was cutting the body up for bait, I wouldn’t make the pieces so small. There isn’t enough blood or flesh on feet to entice a large fish or shark to take it.”

Rossi was tapping his fingers against the table, “Do you think he wants us to find the feet?”

“I’m not sure, but it doesn’t look good.”

Then, Hotch finally walked in. “Which 3 of you want to travel to Maine to take a look at all the findings?” Prentiss, Morgan and Rossi raised their hands, “alright, meet me on the runway in 20. The rest of you, find a way to identify the feet.”

—

She sat at her desk most of the morning, munching on a bag of animal crackers to keep her nausea at bay. JJ brought her a cold ginger ale around 11, rubbing her back for a bit while she flipped through files.

She had a doctor’s appointment during lunch that day, so she headed downtown to give blood in the hour she was permitted. Knowing that she could be late and no one would really care.

She waited in Dr. Korrapati’s room patiently, looking at her arm as she rested it on the table. Her veins were more prominent now than they had ever been in her life. JJ insured her that they would go back down but it did make her a little self-conscious.

“Hey mama,” Dr. Korrapati cheered as she walked into the room. “How are we feeling?”

“Good, tired but good.”

“Work kicking your butt?” She asked as she prepped her arm for the blood draw. “Or just the baby?”

“Having a hard time finding a comfortable sleeping position, I’m probably going to get one of those long pillow things to help,” she rambled to take her mind off what was going on with her arm.

For someone who looked at dead bodies as her job, seeing her own blood freaked her out. Dr. Korrapati noticed she was a little stressed, “how about when I’m done here we take a look at your little person?”

That piqued her interest, she sat completely still and looked away as the nicest doctor she could’ve asked for, got the test over and done with, in record-breaking time.

“Do you have any other symptoms that are bothering you?” She asked as she wrote the exact tests down in her paperwork.

“Yeah,” she struggled with the sleeve of her shirt as she tucked her arm back in. “The nausea is driving me nuts, I’m living on animal crackers and ginger ale.”

“If you eat small meals every few hours it should settle it out,” she explained. “But if it is really bothering you we can give you some anti-nausea medication.”

“I tried that, everyone keeps bringing me snacks and trying to take care of me but I don’t want anything because I’m so tired,” she ranted as she climbed onto the exam table.

“Have you tried sleeping on the other side of the bed?” She asked.

“no, why?”

Dr. Korrapati laughed, “you sleep on the left side of the bed right?”

“Yeah?” She questioned, wondering how an OB could profile so well.

“So I'm assuming your smart and overprotective boyfriend has advised you to lay on your left side like he told JJ?” She smiled. “And because you sleep on the left side of the bed already, that means you’re not cuddled into him. He’s the big spoon now and you hate it.”

It was like a lightbulb went off in her head, “oh my god?”

They laughed at the fact it was so obvious and she never clued in. “It happens all the time, you’re so in a routine that you don’t realize you can just switch sides and it’ll work.”

“You’re so smart!”

“Ready to hear and see this baby of yours?” She asked, waiting for Y/N to raise her shirt and lower her leggings to expose her lower stomach.

“Can we?”

“Yep,” she nodded, “you’re in week 9, so you’re exiting the embryo stage and moving towards the fetal stage. We’ll be able to see the fetus and hear the heartbeat.”

“Can I record it for Spencer?” She asked, not wanting him to miss it.

“I’ll do you one better and put it on a disk for you.”

Just like that, she was smothering her stomach in warm jelly. Spreading it around with the ultrasound wand before she began to search for them. Pressing in slightly on her right side, she heard her own heartbeat whooshing. The closer she got to the centre, the more they heard the second.

Her baby’s heartbeat was strong. She saw them on the monitor, they had changed from being a jellybean to actually looking like a person. 4 strong limbs were stretching and moving, growing faster than she thought possible.

“That’s insane?” She was in such awe of it, “when will I feel the kicking and stuff?”

“In a few more months, they’re only the size of a green olive. You’ll probably feel it around Christmas?” She guessed. “You’ll be 16 weeks around then.”

“Wow okay,” she was just astounded by the magic of growing a child, she felt like absolute shit but it all made sense at that moment. In just a week, muscles and limbs formed and her baby grew the ability to self-soothe in the womb. Growing 10 fingers and toes that they already knew how to put in their mouth.

She cleaned the gel off Y/N’s stomach and began exporting the files for her. “So, I will call you when the results are in, and I can just email you guys a copy and go over it with you on the phone when you’re free? I know your job is unpredictable?”

“That would be perfect, thank you. We’re working on an international case right now so for all I know I’ll be in Ireland next week,” She laughed.

“Of course, take care of yourself make sure you’re taking all the vitamins and having 8 cups of clear fluids a day, you have to stay hydrated.” Dr. Korrapati handed her the disk in a sleeve as well as her contact card.

“Yes ma’am, I can’t wait to hear from you,” she smiled before leaving the office.

—

Y/N walked back into the BAU around 1:15, wandering down the hall to Penelope’s office to get a rundown of what she missed.

Spencer and JJ had the same idea, all turning towards the door as Y/N walked in, “hey.”

“How was it?” Spencer asked softly, beckoning her to his lap.

She sat down on him softly, “I got a DVD copy of the ultrasound.” She waved the disk around. “But, we can’t watch it until I get a rundown on what we know so far.”

“I hate how professional you are sometimes,” Penelope huffed. “Luckily, it is very important.”

“We matched a tattoo on one of the feet to a missing person’s case in Nova Scotia. So we focused our efforts on missing person’s cases who fit the same features and backgrounds as her,” JJ explained.

“Okay cool, who was she?”

“Andrea Carlton, 18. She was hitchhiking, apparently wanting to run away to meet her boyfriend in Newfoundland. I traced her transactions before she disappeared and it looks like she bought a ferry ticket, however, there are no reports of her ever getting on it,” Penelope added. “So I’ve looked into other people from Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick and Newfoundland, who went missing hitchhiking or after booking a ferry ticket.”

“Smart, how many matches did we get?”

“5,” She laughed.

“You’re kidding?”

They all shook their heads, “nope. And we were able to match all the feet to them.”

Y/N handed the ultrasound video over to Penelope. “Your reward.”

She snatched it from her hands so fast, taking it out of the packaging and shoving it in her CD port. Loading the file within seconds.

She watched Spencer’s face the whole time. Already having seen the footage herself, knowing the real show would be his reaction.

He was so mesmerized, his eyes blown up in awe as tears welled. His grip on her leg was more intense, he was squeezing along to the beat of the baby’s heart, absentmindedly. He shook his head in disbelief, that was his baby in there.

The phone rang before they could really talk about it, Hotch requesting the team hop on a plane and meet them in Nova Scotia. The RCMP and the FBI have taken sole jurisdiction over the case.

Y/N was able to convince him that it would be best if they get some sleep before they go. He agreed, telling them he expected to see them in Canada at 10 am sharp.

“Before we go home tonight can you cross-reference freelance charter boats or fishermen in the area the day each victim missed a ferry? Someone desperate to get a ride might be willing to hop in a boat with anyone going where they are,” Y/N suggested to Garcia.

“I’ll run it in the background, you two go home and get some rest so my god-baby can get big and strong!” She hugged her lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Y/N and Spencer didn’t need to be told twice, practically running to their car. She let out the deepest sigh ever once she had her seatbelt on, so excited to go home.

Spencer drove them home, getting used to it as she got more pregnant. Soon she’d be too big to drive at all let alone stay awake the whole time.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked as they cleared the security check.

“Good, Dr. Korrapati is going to email us the results when they’re in and go over them with us on the phone. I told her we’d probably end up going out of the country soon,” Y/N recalled the day.

“The ultrasound was so cool,” he gushed.

“Yeah,” She smiled. Reaching to hold his hand on the centre console. “She also suggested we switch sides of the bed so that we can still cuddle while I’m on my left side.”

“She’s a genius.”

“that’s what I said!” She laughed, “literally how dumb are we?”

“187 till I become a dad and then I’m an idiot,” he smiled back at her quickly. “I’m glad you had a good day. Now we can go eat and get a full night’s rest.”

She let out another deep breath, “I can’t wait to cuddle.”

—

Garcia was waiting for them at the elevator the next morning. “Patrick Timmins.”

“Who?” Y/N asked, fully awake and ready to go, just confused by the ambush.

“I ran the perimeters that you asked for and I found a freelance fisherman slash charter service run by a guy named Patrick Timmins,” Garcia explained. “The townspeople call him Patty Tims, they think he’s fine and lovely according to his Yelp page but his criminal record tells a different story.”

“Really? I thought that was such a long shot!” Y/N was cheery from the extra sleep she got with Dr. Korrapati’s advice.

“The plane is ready when you guys are, I have all the updated info in this as well as some snacks for the plane,” she handed Spencer a cloth bag.

“What would I do without you? My pretty penny,” she kissed her friend on the cheek.

“If it means I get some sugar from you, I’ll do anything,” Garcia flirted with her in the absence of Morgan. “Go get on your plane, I will see you when you return my loves.”

They landed in Nova Scotia around 10 am like Hotch had requested. Bypassing customs and driving directly to the RCMP headquarters. They needed to come up with a plan, they had no idea how to find a man who travels by boat and lives at sea.

“We could always send undercover’s out in the areas he’s picked up before, have them dress as hitchhikers, miss the ferries and wait and see who tries to pick you up. Everyone will have a team watching and police boats on standby?” Morgan was theorizing as Spencer, Y/N and JJ walked in.

“We have report’s that he’s in the bay, if we’re going to do this we need to do it now,” An RCMP officer she hadn’t met yet announced to the room. “Who here is comfortable posing as a vic?”

JJ raised her hand, “get me some dirty clothes and I can be ready in 5.”

They raided the lost and found, they filled a backpack with random things and tried their best to dirty her fingernails and hair. She looked like she had been travelling without a proper place to stay for a while.

They managed to hide a wire on her, prepping what she was going to say if she was in danger and they needed to move in. Hiding a gun and a knife in her socks in case she needed them later.

They drove her down to the bay dropping her off 1 kilometre away, letting her walk into town while they parked closer to watch with binoculars. They planned it for her to arrive as the ferry pulled out of the bay.

She ran down the dock, trying to catch the ferry. Putting on the best performance of: “fuck, I missed the boat!” That they had ever seen.

“She’s going to win an Oscar,” Morgan whispered in the back of the surveillance van, trying to make Y/N laugh.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” They heard over the wire, trying to identify the source of the voice. The man was standing on his boat, hanging over the edge to get JJ’s attention.

“I missed the ferry, do you know when it’ll be back?” She played dumb. “I promised my mom I’d be back tonight and now I won’t be.”

“I can give you a ride, for a price,” the man suggested. “Names, Patty Tims.”

Hotch turned around from the front seat and motioned for Y/N and Morgan to head out quietly without making a scene. Listening in their headsets as JJ replied. “How much?”

They hid around the corner of the ticket booth, watching as the undercover officers walked around the civilians.

“Just a simple photo, I like to put a face to the stories I run across. Come on up,” he motioned for her to get on the boat.

She walked closer to him, “I don’t know sir, I should probably wait for the ferry.” She smiled.

“No,” he ground his teeth together and clenched his jaw, reaching for her.

She grabbed his arm and flipped him, getting into the boat and pushing him to the ground. She cuffed him by the time Morgan and Y/N could board. “What the fuck is this?” He struggled in her grasp.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of 6 people,” JJ replied, about to tell him his rights.

“Only 6?” He laughed.

JJ shoved him into the floor harder, reading him his rights before lifting him to his feet and shoving him off the boat and into RCMP custody.

Y/N lifted her hand up to high five JJ, pulling her into a half hug as they walked back to the surveillance van.

She never had a sister before, JJ was probably the only woman in her life that she felt this close to. It was mostly to do with the fact she’s always been so wonderful to Spencer. She helped him feel loved before Y/N, and that was important to her.

“Can we search the boat? Or are we still waiting on the warrant?” Y/N just wanted to check with Hotch before she barged onto the boat. Not wanting to jeopardize what they’re allowed to enter into evidence.

“We got it, you can start looking,” Hotch said, handing her a pair of gloves and a handful of evidence bags.

JJ went with her. They walked in together, noticing that he wasn’t lying about wanting a photo to go with the story. Below the deck, the entire wall was filled with Polaroids of terrified people moments before their deaths.

They bagged them all into evidence, dreading having to put them all into the system and match them to missing person’s reports. Delivering the news that someone’s loved one was gone for good was never fun.

Telling 58 families that their loved one was dead was a nightmare.

chapter 17

She’s a little confused when she wakes up to the sound of geese honking. Rolling away from Spencer’s embrace and immediately being blinded by the sunlight in the room. She sat up in a small panic.

She had forgotten that they stayed the night at the new house.

The large windows in the bedroom faced the water. She could see the sun’s reflection on the lake as it stretched over the house from the east. It was absolutely stunning. She could get used to waking up early with a screaming baby if this was the view.

Then she remembered it was the day they got their test results, she bounced a little as she reached for her phone to check her messages.

“Morning bunny,” Spencer’s groggy morning voice startled her a little.

“Bunny?” She questioned, never hearing him call her any form of nickname before.

He reached out of her, wrapping his arms around her growing belly, resting his head in her lap. “Have you ever noticed you hop a little bit when you get excited?”

“Yeah, it’s called Asperger’s,” she smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s honestly better than bugs bunny though, just don’t throw carrots at me okay?” She laughed to herself as she recalled the childhood trauma.

It was a little funny, looking back now.

“Never, you’re my bunny. I love my bunny.”

He was so soft in the mornings. Snuggling in against her skin as he slowly woke up. He stretched and yawned a bit, making the cutest little sounds as he did so.

She kept her fingers in his hair, twirling the ends every once and a while. Mostly running her nails along his scalp, soothing that big beautiful brain of his that she loved so much.

“We find out what the sex is today,” she reminded him.

He lifted up her shirt to expose her belly. Kissing the skin as she laid back against the pillows.

“What’s going on in there today?” She asked softly.

“They’re the size of a prune,” he mused. “speaking of, as you enter the fetus stage this week you’re going to get constipated.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, “thanks that’s exactly what I wanted to know!”

“Right now the fetal development is focusing primarily on the bones, tummy and teeth,” he explained with the largest smile on his face.

“There we go.”

He hovered over her, brushing the hair from her face so he could look at her, “You look so beautiful right now.”

He said that as if he wasn’t blocking the sun from her view, perfectly casting a halo glow around him. She placed her hand on his cheek, “I love you.”

He leaned in and kissed her, pressing his body softly against her’s. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses. Covering her face and neck with small pecks, making her laugh as he covered her body in kisses.

The phone rang on Spencer’s night table causing him to press his forehead against her hip, letting out a deep sigh. Y/N reached over and picked it up. “Doctor Spencer Reid’s phone,” she answered. “He can't come to the phone right now, can I take a message?”

“Funny,” Penelope replied.

“We have a case,” Morgan added.

“What time do we need to be on the plane by?” She asked.

“Uh, it’s 7:46 now, so you’ve got an hour, tops?” Penelope guessed, “why?”

“I said he was busy. I’ll see you later.” She hung up.

“You did not just do that?” He looked absolutely horrified, his whole face turning pink.

“They could either think you got some, or you could actually get some?” She teased. “We have an hour.”

—

“All 3 Vic’s had been strangled and raped before they were wrapped in plastic and released into the river,” Garcia explained to the team over the laptop as they travelled through the sky. “Washing away all of the unsub’s DNA, however, they did find carpet fragments under the victim’s finger-“

“Like the ’84 Oklahoma Child Murders,” Y/N cut her off.

“What?” Garcia asked.

“Oklahoma 1981 to 1984. Local black children between the age of approximately 6 and 17 were being abducted, raped and murdered. Their bodies were mostly discovered in wooded areas and along the edges of the river, never submerged. The BAU worked the case, only ever being able to solve the last 2 murders before the Oklahoma governor, I think, kicked you off the case, right? They cared more about the money going towards the investigation than the black children going missing,” She explained.

“Gideon and I tried,” Rossi said. Still very bothered by the ending. “We wanted to catch the guy, the last 2 murders were so different from the others and yet the local cops considered it the same guy. Much like this new unsub, he raped young men before strangling them and dropping them in the river. All the way down to the carpet fibres.”

“It ended up being a local man named Oscar Pope, they caught him dumping an older male victim at a police checkpoint. They matched carpet fibres at his house to the 2 rivers Vic’s, but none of the children,” Prentiss cut in. “This has to be a copycat right?”

“We don’t know that,” Y/N added. “The BAU was working the angle that a local boy who knew the majority of the victims was in on it. Um, Daryl Livingston, he was in foster care at the time. He was the 7th boy to go missing and then every one of his friends was found dead after that. However, his body was never found. They suspected that he formed a bond with his captor and offered to bring him, other boys, if he let him live.”

“Any chance that this unsub could be the same kid, using Pope’s tactic to get our attention back on him?” Morgan asked.

“I was about to say that too,” JJ cut in. “they might’ve even been a team back then as well. That would explain why the murders stopped when Pope was caught but they still never found that boy.”

“That’s possible. They concluded that the last victim Pope dropped into the river was a long-time, secret boyfriend of his who found out what he was doing to the children. His MO changed when he didn’t want people to tie the murders together,” Spencer provided the extra information. “Only backfiring when local cops patrolling the river heard a splash.”

“Garcia, can you see if any of the Vic’s have any relation, contact or even geographical coincidences with the original murders?” Rossi asked. “If this is a victim continuing Pope’s work we need to find out who knew him.”

“Sir, Oscar Pope is still alive in a local correctional facility,” Garcia added. “I’m going to run background checks on all contact he’s had in his entirety at the prison, it might take a while but I’ll get it.”

“Garcia, I can go to the facility and just read everything they have there. It might not be all digital yet,” Reid offered.

“Good idea, take Y/N with you. You two bounce ideas off each other better than the rest of us,” Hotch agreed. “Morgan and Rossi join the search teams at the rivers. JJ and Prentiss, we’ll set up communication with the locals and go through old case files.”

“Reid’s good at bouncing somethin’ off her, alright,” Morgan teased him. “You were on speaker this morning.”

Spencer turned bright red once again, burying his face into the table as everyone laughed, reaching across the aisle to give Y/N high fives.

—

Being in a prison was always weird for her.

Having to hand in her gun just to read papers in a dusty office made her uncomfortable. She understood the protocol and she knew the guards would keep them safe, but knowing she was near men she helped put away, that scared her slightly.

“I’m not finding anything,” Spencer sighed. “There was a flood 2 years ago that destroyed most of the files near the ground. Including the Pope documents.”

“We can always just go ask him?” Y/N suggested, “he’s in D cell, he’s behind bars. We can just talk to him from the hallway unofficially. Pretend we’re here for someone else. I’ll say I never thought he really did those murders and gain his trust, see what happens.”

“I don’t like it but, I think we have to,” he agreed. Opening the office door for her to lead the way, “after you.”

Spencer felt very protective, she could tell. He was never pushy or controlling with her, but for some reason, he was now manhandling her. Making sure she walked on the inside of the hallways, closer to the brick walls so that no one could get her through the bars.

“So Doctor Reid,” she picked up the conversation as they hit the D block. “I was reading the book you lent me about engineering.”

“Oh,” he tried to play along. “How did you like it?”

“It was good,” she replied while trying to look at each inmate she passed. “I loved page 187— oh my gosh?” She stopped at Pope’s cell.

“You’re Oscar Pope?” She pointed at him.

“and you’re?” The old man questioned her. “A fed?”

“We’re here for something political, nothing to concern yourself with,” she lied, getting closer to the bars, whispering. “I just want you to know I never thought you did all 16 of the child murders back in the day.”

“Thank you,” he was suddenly enthusiastic. “Now why can’t all the fed’s be as smart as you?”

She laughed, tapping his arm through the bars. “How are you doing? Is there anything I can get you while I’m here?”

“Phone privileges!” He answered quickly, “the mail’s taking forever and I’ve got people to talk to before I croak in here.”

“I’m sure you do sir,” she smiled at him. “I’ll pull some strings, you have a good day!”

“You too, beautiful!”

Spencer placed his hand on her hip and led her away from the bars, she waved as they walked away.

“Agent Y/L/N,” a voice stopped her at the end of the hall.

She turned to see a man sitting cross-legged on the cell floor. His orange jumpsuit gathered around his waist as he sat in an undershirt. She glanced over his body, stopping at his face. She’d know those eyes anywhere.

“Didn’t I say only good boys get to talk to me, Bitch?” She snapped at him.

“Congratulations on the little one.” He replied. Laughing as Spencer placed his hand over her small stomach and led her out of the room, through the big metal doors.

“Keep walking with me,” Spencer insisted. “Or I will turn around and I will kill him.”

She huffed and continued down a narrow hallway with him. “We need to call Hotch.”

“Yeah,” he flipped his phone open and hit the speed dial.

“Reid?” She heard Hotch answer.

“We couldn’t get any of his information from forms, they all had water damage so Y/N and I walked past Pope’s cell and struck up a conversation,” He explained.

“And?”

“She got on his good side, pretending that she could get him a favour while she’s here for political reasons. He said he’s desperate to make a phone call today.”

“I’m on my way, get Garcia to prep paperwork to allow us a meeting with him now,” Hotch instructed, hanging up.

Y/N dialled Garcia on her phone. “How’s it going love birds?”

“Not good,” she replied. “We need you to get the paperwork going to allow us to sit down with Oscar Pope today. And we’re going to need to tear through his cell.”

“Oh, damn okay,” She replied. “Ask him about Cody Kollins.”

“Who?” Spencer asked as his phone rang again. He flipped it open, “we’ve got Garcia here too.” Putting it on speaker.

“Morgan and Rossi just intercepted a man dropping a body in the river,” Hotch confirmed. “I need you to rush that paperwork.”

“Sir, what was the man’s name?” Garcia asked.

“Cody Kollins.”

They sighed at each other, “let’s do this.”

—

Y/N watched him through the mirror. She could see him fidgeting. He was frustrated. He was exhibiting the exact same behaviour as he was when he was caught the first time.

“Every time we one-up him, he breaks down,” she whispered to Spencer. “Even in his interrogation tapes, he was like this. When they found the single patch of carpet left in his closet and were able to match the fibres, he lost it. He likes to play it cool and under control, he wrote the story and he wants us to stick to it.”

“How upset do you think he’d be if we went in there and told him we actually caught the original killer and he’s going to be released pending DNA testing?” Spencer suggested.

She tilted her head, biting her lip as she thought. “I think he’d be violent.”

“Sit here,” he said as he walked into the interview room.

She hated having to just watch. It helped that Pope was cuffed to the table, and the table was drilled into the concrete floor, Spencer wouldn’t get hurt. The guards are right behind the door. It’s fine.

“Sorry for the abrupt interrogation, I promise this isn’t what you think,” Spencer smiled softly. “We have reason to believe that the original killer has returned, the state is running the DNA now.”

Y/N watched as Pope’s right eye started to twitch, his finger on his leg was tapping at an odd rhythm as Spencer talked.

“The second we can prove you had no hand in any of the killing’s we’ll issue a pardon and your discharge papers will be filled out,” Spencer finished his sentence and moved to open the door once more.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he hissed. His voice was completely different than it was when they were speaking in D block.

“Why?” Spencer asked, easily playing the innocent and stupid role.

“You think some crazy-obsessed, fuck toy of mine whose doing half-assed attempts at my signature, is the real killer!!!” Pope spat his confession out. Literally covering the table in spit as he became more feral. Shaking violently.

Spencer walked right out of the room. Y/N watched as Pope smacked the table, tugging violently at the cuffs, scratching himself all up. The guards had to run in and hold him down, shooting a sedative into his neck.

“Jesus,” she whispered. Taking her phone out of her pocket to call Garcia, when she noticed the voicemail notification in the bottom corner. She ignored it, calling her friend instead.

“Hey,” Penelope answered quickly. “So turns out we were right, who would have thought, Cody Kollins is actually Daryl Livingston.”

“We just got a confession from Pope,” Y/N shared her news. “They had to sedate him so we’re going to come back to the station. Wait until tomorrow to interview him again.”

“Yeah, sounds good, Hotch and Morgan are in with Livingston right now,” she updated them. “Make sure to eat something when you get there.”

“Yes mom,” she teased, hanging up and smiling.

Spencer put his hand out in an invitation to hold it. She interlocked their fingers and followed him back to the filing room, gathering their things before exiting the prison.

She sat on the passenger side of the SUV, she and Spencer just sat there and took a few deep breaths. Processing everything the exact same way, quietly and on their own.

She cut the awkward silencer by taking out her phone and playing the voicemail. Putting it on speaker.

“Hi Y/N, this is Doctor Korrapati calling. I’ve emailed you your results. The gender is at the bottom, under the little read more button, in case you wanted it to be a surprise. Call the office and let us know when you’re free to go over the results and we’ll book you in, as far as I can tell everything looks good, so don’t feel the need to rush. Take care!”

Spencer looked over at her with a soft smile on his face, reaching out for her hand once more. Holding her hand with both of his now, “do you want to do this?”

“I’m ready if you are?”

He nodded, watching her contently as she opened her email up, finding the right one and scrolling to the bottom. Her heart fluttered a little as she looked at the read more option.

She took a deep breath and clicked on it.

Chromosomal sex: XY

“Well?” Spencer asked softly.

“I’d really love to tell you,” she bit her lip trying not to laugh, “but I don’t remember what this means?”

He laughed, shaking his head as he looked at the screen. He blinked with glossy eyes as he read it, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he cried softly.

It had to be a girl, she knew he wanted one. She convinced herself in that millisecond that it was a girl.

He reached over and placed his hand flat against her belly. “Hi Matthew,” he said softly.

“You’re kidding?” She couldn’t stop herself from crying.

Spencer wrapped her up in a hug, the two of them happily crying into each other. She wasn’t sure if she was giggling or sobbing, she just knew she was shaking in Spencer’s arms with happiness that this was her little family.

He kissed all over her one cheek as he held her close. “I love you so much,” he reminded her.

She pulled back, wiping her tears off on her shirt sleeve, laughing at the serendipity of it all. “I love you too, dad.”

“I have to drive, don’t make me cry again,” he laughed, wiping his own tears before tucking his ever-growing hair behind his ears.

“Let’s go.”

—

Y/N sat beside JJ in the break room of the police station, salad bowl in her lap, shovelling the dressing-covered leaves in her mouth.

They weren’t tasked with anything until Hotch and Morgan attempted to get some info out of the unsub. “Were you crying earlier?” She asked.

“A little,” Y/N smiled at her. “We’re having a boy,” she whispered.

“Oh my god!” JJ whispered back at her, reaching out for her arm and shaking her a little. “I have a feeling your little guy will be bigger than Henry was so he’ll fit into all Henry’s summer stuff when he’s born!”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah!” She confirmed. “By the time he grows out of everything I might have a second boy and we can rotate it around again,” she laughed. “This is going to be so fun.”

“Matthew and Henry are going to be best friends,” Y/N smiled.

“Matthew,” she repeated. “That’s a nice name, I like it.”

“My brother’s name is Levi, I thought it was a nice way to keep a family name in my baby’s life, and his middle name is going to be Gideon,” she spoiled it for Spencer.

JJ looked a little emotional, “sorry it’s just so surreal thinking about me and Spencer having kids who are friends.”

Y/N moved her dinner out of the way and hugged her then, holding her tightly. “You better not be pregnant too,” she whispered in her ear. Not wanting to give it away if she was.

JJ just laughed, rocking Y/N back and forth in her embrace, not answering. “Right?” Y/N asked again.

“We’re trying, so who knows,” JJ replied.

“Shut up?” Y/N pulled back and stared into her eyes to see if she was telling the truth or not. “Holy shit? Since when?”

“Honestly, I think the night we celebrated Canadian thanksgiving,” she laughed. “You and Spencer got us talking about babies, and you got Henry to sleep through the night, so this is technically your fault.”

“JJ,” Y/N started to cry, “I’m so happy for you.”

“They’ll only be a few months apart, so they’ll be best friends too,” JJ smiled. “This is going to be really fun.”

chapter 18

For Christmas this year, Y/N just wanted to be fully moved into their new home before they had to leave for Vegas. Spencer followed through with the present. Inviting the entire team over for drinks if they promised to stop by Y/N’s apartment and bring a few boxes to the new house. It was basically just free labour.

She spent the night nesting while her friends drank in her kitchen. They understood why she was nervous, she was going to tell her parents about the baby and the engagement, and the house, in 3 days.

It was all going to be a lot.

She was 16 weeks along as of Christmas Eve. Waking up the morning of their flight to a weird twitching sensation in her gut, like butterflies or a muscle twitch but right where the baby would be.

“Spence,” she shook him awake. “Spencer.”

“What’s wrong?” He sat right up, squinting at her as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“It’s like, I don’t know how to explain it?” She worried.

Spencer placed his hand on her belly feeling the slight flitter. “He’s kicking.”

Spencer’s early morning smile was the best, he tackled her back against the pillow and dug his face into the crook of her neck. “That’s my baby in there.”

“I wouldn’t have known,” she laughed, wrapping her arms and legs around him. “We have to go to the airport soon.”

“I know,” he mumbled into her neck.

“If you get up now, we can go get breakfast before we have to board?” She enticed him, “we can get sprinkle donuts for the flight.”

“Okay,” he said as she freed him from her grip. “Are you nervous?”

“I know they’ll be happy, just not ready for them to ask why I didn’t say anything sooner,” She explained. “I’ve been really distant since I got the job, I’m really excited to spend time with them this weekend.”

“Same,” Spencer smiled. “Come on you two.”

They took a 9 am flight one-way to Las Vegas. Y/N slept most of the ride, spending the last 45 minutes just snuggled into Spencer’s shoulder as he watched a documentary on some form of science or math. She couldn’t hear what it was about, all she saw was a man writing out numbers on a chalkboard.

She ran her hand over her belly lightly. There was no way she could walk into her mother’s house in a few minutes and just pretend it wasn’t there. It was there. So were the 5 pounds of baby weight on her hips and the swelling in her face and knuckles.

She was pretty quiet during landing and baggage claim. Thinking in her head what she was going to say to everyone, how she would explain it. She sat in a cab beside Spencer, absentmindedly following him through the airport they’ve both been through at least 20 times.

It was a short trip to her parent’s house. Spencer traced little shapes into her leg with his finger to distract her. A flower, a 4D cube, the words I love you. It was sweet, non verbal comfort was very important to her.

When they arrived, she stayed in the cab to pay while Spencer got their bags out. Taking as long as possible so she could avoid it a little longer.

Biting the bullet, she took a deep breath and walked out into her parent’s front yard. Taking the handle of her suitcase and dragging it up the walkway.

She walked right into her house, her parents and brothers all standing up from the living room and rushing into the entryway. She was wrapped up in 7 hugs within a matter of seconds.

“You look so different,” her mom said as she pulled back from her hug. Holding her arms as she examined her, “what did you do?”

“I got pregnant,” she replied, scrunching her face as she waited for their response.

She could’ve sworn she went deaf at that moment, reaching down to cover her bump as everyone cheered and jumped around her. She was pulled into a group hug before she could process anything. Laughing awkwardly at the whole experience.

“Be quiet, he can hear this week!” She laughed.

“He?” Her father inquired.

She looked back at Spencer, smiling at him. “It’s a boy,” Spencer confirmed.

“Holy shit!” Her brothers cheered, high-fiving each other. “When are you due?” Harrison asked.

“June,” she smiled. “3 days after mom’s birthday, see I do remember it.”

“Come sit,” her mom insisted, pushing everyone out of the way and dragging her to the couch. “Put your feet up, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Y/N insisted. “You’re almost worse than my co-workers.”

“Are they taking good care of you?” Her father asked.

She waited for Spencer to join her on the couch, they had all been so excited about her they forgot he was there. “Yeah. Um, we have a lot to tell you,” She explained, holding Spencer’s hand for comfort.

“I asked Y/N to marry me,” Spencer announced. “I am so in love with her, this baby is a dream come true and I’m very excited to become a part of your family.”

Her mom cried, tossing her hand over her eyes as she sobbed. “Mom,” she was so overwhelmed with everything she started to cry too.

“You’re a wonderful man Spencer,” her father interjected. “It’s an honour to have you.”

Spencer smiled and nodded towards him, silently thanking him for the approval.

“So, it’s kind of insane how it all happened. It wasn’t intended, but we love him so much already,” Y/N glowed as she spoke. “Are we going to tell people the name yet?”

Spencer nodded, “we can.” He smiled down at her with such wonderment, the moment she had been scared of for 16 weeks turning out to be the best time she’s had with her whole family in one room.

“His name is Matthew Gideon Reid,” Y/N smiled. “After my favourite brother, no offence Harry, and Spencer’s mentor.”

Levi was her more emotional brother. He was her best friend growing up. The 5 year age difference gave them the time to grow up separately but still find common interests to bring them together. They were the closest in the family before she moved to Virginia full time it became hard to keep up with him as much.

Now they were both parents, their kids only having a 3 year age difference. Meaning next year there would be 2 little ones at Christmas.

“That’s a lovely name,” Levi smiled. “Thank you.”

“It’s whatever, don’t expect our kids to have your name either,” Harrison replied as he held his wife close, pretending he was a little offended.

“We also got a house,” she added to change the topic, “Jason Gideon, he kinda gave us his place in Virginia.”

“You’re kidding me?” Debbie gasped. “For free?”

She laughed, “it’s complicated.”

“I grew up without a father, and Gideon neglected his son for his work at the BAU,” Spencer chimed in. “We bonded, and he wanted his house to be used for good. He specifically asked for us to fill it with love and laughter. We’ve just finished moving into it. You can visit any time!” He panicked and rambled by the end.

“I don’t know if you know this,” her mom tried to joke with them. “But there’s this thing called a phone, where you can call your mother and tell her these things.”

“I wanted to!” she hurried the words out. “But I’m still working in the field, I was weary with who really knew besides the team. It’s my only weakness on the job.”

“I get it,” Debbie smiled. “Honestly, I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thanks, mom,” Y/N choked back tears. “Sorry,” she laughed. “Pregnant things, y’know.”

—

Visiting hours at the nursing home changed during the holidays. Spencer and Y/N were permitted to enter anytime between 8 am and 10 pm, giving them lots of time to spend the afternoon with Y/N’s parents before visiting her.

They borrowed her dad’s truck, driving to the nursing home with a special gift for Diana. Spencer had spent the last 2 weeks making a scrapbook page about Matthew for her, he knew how much her book meant to her and he wanted to add to it.

Her mom’s co-workers all stared at them as they walked in hand in hand. Her bump on show under the T-Shirt she chose to wear.

Diana was in her room, then walked down the long hallway to her suite. Knocking lightly on the door, waiting for her to greet them.

The door swung open, “Spencer!” She cheered. Hugging him tight in her arms.

“Hi mom,” he held her just as tight. Knowing he was a mama’s boy always made Y/N’s heart flutter.

She pulled back and looked at Y/N, “you look so nice!”

“Thank you,” she smiled. Stepping in close to give her a hug as well.

Diana welcomed them into her room, closing the door behind them. Y/N took a seat on the couch while Spencer looked around at the new things she had on display.

“I made you something,” he said softly, taking off his bag and pulling the pressed cardboard out of the protective sleeve. “here.”

She held it in her hands, looking at the ultrasound photo they got a few weeks ago at the anatomy scan. “What is this Spencer?”

“You’re going to be a grandmother,” he explained. Watching her run her fingers over the words on the paper. She was in shock, she had nothing to say. She just looked at the photo.

She quietly walked over to Y/N and sat beside her, “may I?” She asked, holding her hand up.

Y/N leaned back a little, “absolutely.”

Diana placed her hand on the bump lightly. “I was so worried I wouldn’t get to really experience this one day,” she whispered. Trying her best not to cry. “Thank you.”

Y/N cried, not realizing how special this must be for them. She was so focused on her family that she forgot that this was going to change Diana’s whole world. She now had 2 boys to love unconditionally.

“His name is Matthew?” Diana asked, running her hand over the bump softly.

“Yeah,” Y/N smiled. “He’s due in June. If you can, you can fly out and stay with us for a little?”

“I’d love to,” Diana replied. “I have enough points for a trip, and I’ve been feeling really good on my medication.”

“If your doctors clear it all, Debbie and you can fly in together,” Spencer confirmed.

“Wow,” Diana smiled like Spencer. Wide thin lips, straight white teeth, big rosy cheeks and glistening eyes. She hoped Matthew inherited it too. “This is my best Christmas yet.”

—

Y/N woke up Christmas morning with Spencer cuddled into her side in her childhood bedroom. She slipped out of his grasp and sat in her windowsill instead.

She pulled her knees to her chest as best as she could now that she was pregnant, looking at the lone swing across the street that swayed in the December morning breeze.

It should be 8 am back at Quantico, her parents must have let them sleep in while they opened presents. She could see Chloe in the front yard trying out her new car. Levi smiled as he pushed her down the road, Lizzie filming the whole thing on her phone.

Her whole life was so different from the last time she really sat on the windowsill in her bedroom. Back then she was about to move to Virginia, graduating college in Nevada and getting into the training program at the academy. Harrison was already there at Fort Meade, she was about to move into his house with his wife for the first semester before settling into DC. Levi and Lizzie had just started dating, Chloe wasn’t even conceived yet. And she had no idea when she’d run into Spencer.

She rubbed her hand over her belly as a tear rolled down her cheek. She couldn’t wait for the day that she was pushing her own child on that swing across the street. The day she and Spencer tell him about the love story that bubbled between two kids with books who looked at each other for years before they fell in love.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, removing her from the moment she allowed herself to have.

She wiped the tear from her cheek, “they’re happy tears. Go back to sleep.”

“Come cuddle?” He pouted, his big puppy dog eyes drawing her back to the bed.

She snuggled into him, running her fingers against his bare chest as she watched him breathe. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” he kissed the top of her head.

“When I was 17, I had my appendix out.” She rolled over and laid back, showing him the 3-inch scar on the right side of her stomach. “It was pretty bad, they said I would have died if my mom waited 15 more minutes to get me to the hospital. They had to fix parts of my stomach and intestines that were eaten by the ruptured appendix bile.”

“I had no idea,” he whispered, running his finger along the scar. “I always thought that was just a scratch.”

She shook her head lightly. “It was December 5th, ’98. They uh,” she took a deep breath before resuming. “They put me on a drug called Dilaudid, they told my mom it was a non-addictive version of morphine and that I’d be fine but, I kinda got addicted to the pill version when they let me out,” she scrunched her face as she told him. Not wanting his opinion of her to change.

“You’re kidding?” He asked, a chuckle fell past his lips as he sat up. “In my second year at the BAU I was kidnapped by a man with dissociative identity disorder and he drugged me.”

“Dilaudid?” She asked, sitting up too and shaking her head in disbelief.

He laughed at how absurd it was, “yeah.”

“I moved to Benadryl for the sleepy and calm effect after I couldn’t get any more refills and didn’t want to admit I had a problem, and weed in college” she added. “but I haven’t even taken a Tylenol in the last 5 years now.”

“I had a small problem with it after everything, but I’m also clean now,” Spencer smiled at her. “Why did you want me to know?”

“Because I don’t want to take any drugs when I deliver the baby, even if I beg for them I don’t want them to give in. I talked to Dr. Korrapati about it but I wanted you to know too,” she explained. “Being in here all night got me thinking about a lot.”

He wrapped his arms around her and tackled her back against the pillows. “I love you,” was all he said.

“I love you too?”

“Seriously,” his voice was so soft and low. “I’ll never stop.”

chapter 19

She woke up to the feeling of hair tickling her face. She swatted at her face to try and get it to stop before opening her eyes. She blinked into the early morning sunlight, only to Spencer looking down at her, his hair long enough to tickle her skin.

“You were snoring,” he whispers down to her. “Also, Happy Birthday.”

She smiled, pulling him down and into a hug. “Thank you.”

Every morning with Spencer for the last 10 months had been special. Something about the warmth of his body against hers, and the sunlight bouncing around their new bedroom made this morning her favourite.

It was so calm on the water. She could see the snow settling on the ice as the sun made it glisten like diamonds. The birds had all but disappeared for the winter, the stillness in the world was lovely. It was like time stopped with Spencer laying in her arms.

“What do you think Penelope has planned at work today?” She asked him softly, playing with his incredibly long hair. It was almost longer than hers now.

“She told me to bring you in after 8.”

“So does that mean you have to distract me for a little while, Doctor Reid?” She teased him.

He pushed himself up, leaning on his arm as he hovered over her. “Any requests?”

She spread her arms and legs out like a starfish. “Have at ‘er,” she couldn’t stop herself from laughing as Spencer just shook his head.

He dipped down to her belly, blowing a raspberry onto her protruding bump. “Good morning to you too little dude,” he whispered against her skin. “Go back to sleep.”

She shoved him lightly, not able to stop herself from smiling, “he is asleep, leave him alone.”

It was the best morning ever.

Every time she thinks that she’s reached peak happiness she discovers another level. It felt like every time he touched her, she wanted to describe it as the best she’s ever felt.

When they finally got dressed and made their way downstairs for the morning, she found it incredibly odd that he wasn’t asking her what she wanted for breakfast, like he did every morning. Very concerned that she had all her meals and then some.

She fed the cat, picking him up and giving him a little snuggle after he finished his breakfast. “You are getting so big and chunky buddy, I might have to change your food timer.”

He meowed at her, sounding really pissed, making her laugh. “Fine but when you can't climb all the stairs in this house it’s your fault.” She placed him back on the ground and watched him wander into the sunlight. Plopping onto the hardwood and stretching out. Just living the life.

“Ready to go?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah, are we stopping for breakfast?” She asked, the second trimester making her hungrier than ever before.

“Penelope has it covered,” He said, placing his hand on her back as he leads her to the foyer.

“Oh this’ll be good,” she smiled, putting her shoes on before arming the alarm and heading outside.

Spencer locked their beautiful green front door, it was colder out than they had expected. He held her hand as she shivered slightly, they walked down the 3 steps together, Spencer not wanting her to fall if it happened to be icy.

Seat heaters were a blessing from god. The car was freezing when they first got in, the heater barely kicked in by the time they reached Quantico. Living 10 minutes away now was really nice.

Up the elevator they went, she was basically bouncing with excitement. “See?” Spencer nudged her with his shoulder. “Bunny.”

“Shut up,” she smiled as the door dinged before opening.

They walked into the bullpen to find it empty. She took off her coat and placed her bag on her desk before slowly walking up the small set of stairs and heading towards the briefing room.

All her co-workers were sitting around the table waiting for her and the boy wonder to arrive. Strawberry cheesecake danishes sat on a tray on the table, a strawberry milkshake in front of Y/N‘s regular spot.

“Happy Birthday!” They cheered as she walked in.

“You guys!?” She was so flattered. Never in her life has she been thrown a party by someone who wasn’t her mother. “Thank you.”

“Sit, sit,” Penelope insisted. Placing a danish on a napkin and putting it on her spot on the table. “I know you can’t have ice coffee right now, I thought a milkshake was the next best thing.”

“I seriously love you, come here,” she pulled Penelope into a hug, kissing her right on the mouth as everyone cheered.

“See that?” Penelope blushed. “Kisses are how I should be thanked around here.”

“HR already hates us,” Hotch made everyone laugh, “don’t push it.”

They all ate breakfast together, sharing stories from their weekend. They decided to spend New Years’ apart, everyone taking time to themselves for the first time ever.

“Where did you go, Prentiss?” Morgan inquired.

“Sin to Win weekend in Atlantic City,” she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“Oh my god?” Y/N looked at her with absolute astonishment.

“What’s that?” Morgan and Spencer asked at the same time.

“Nothing.” Emily and Y/N replied in unison. Making a look at each other that screamed: ‘tell anyone and I’ll hurt you.’

Like a saviour, the fax machine in the briefing room turned on, spitting out 15 sheets of paper in a few minutes. Penelope cleaned off the table while Hotch ran everything over.

“Last night a family in Boston had their home burned down with them inside it,” Hotch explained.

“How is that something for us to look into?” Rossi asked.

“Because the unsub broke in and turned the water off and tampered with the gas system, causing CO2 to render them unconscious. He stabbed the father to death in the bed before laying gasoline all over the floors and lighting the house on fire.”

“Damn,” Y/N whispered under her breath. “That is personal.”

“I’d say,” Hotch agreed.

“Who was the family?” JJ asked.

Garcia looked through the sheets of paper spewed across the table. “Thomas Greenway, 61. His wife Alison 43. And 2 children aged 8 and 12.”

“We need to head to Boston,” Hotch announced. “I’ll call about prepping the plane. Y/N you can stay here with Garcia if you’d like, your insight will aid her search greatly.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind,” she smiled at Garcia. “Good luck out there.”

“Wheels up in 30.”

Everyone sighed before standing up. Spencer leaned in and kissed Y/N softly before standing up. “I’ll see you later.”

“Come home to me safely Doctor Reid.”

He smiled down at her, fixing his shirt before he left with Morgan.

“I hate to see him go, but I love watching him leave,” She said softly towards Penelope, making her laugh in the process.

“Come on mama, let’s go to my office,” Garcia said, putting her arm out for Y/N, the two of them skipping down the hallway with their arms linked as the team filled the elevator.

Y/N sat in Garcia’s office and immediately put her feet up, still drinking her milkshake as she flipped through the case files. “Can I suggest possibly the dumbest thing ever?”

She laughed, “shoot.”

“So, homeboy here breaks in and knocks out a family with co2 poisoning, just to stab the father to death and light the house on fire.” She ran it down once more, “What if we just search mothers stabbed before dying in a fire and just see if this is some traumatized kid, at this point that’s what they all end up being.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Garcia said, typing away as she added the parameters. “It’s like you can see the fucking future?”

Y/N threw her head back in a laugh, “did you get something? Seriously?”

“Adele Hollis was found dead in a burning apartment building in Boston in 1978. ME reports say she was already dead from co2 poisoning before she was stabbed 6 times in the chest. The whole apartment complex went up in flames after the unsub doused the bed in gasoline and lit her up.”

“Well fuck,” Y/N replied. “Does she have children?”

“Yes, her son Cameron was at school when it happened. He was 8, he moved in with his step-dad shortly after, they ruled him out and never found the guy,” Garcia added.

Y/N leaned across the desk and dialled Hotch, the plane hadn’t even left yet. “I think I found the unsub?”

“How?” Hotch asked.

“I jokingly asked Garcia to search and see if there are any men whose mothers died in a fire after being stabbed cause we deal with sooo many traumatized kids, and we found one,” she laughed at just how insane it sounded.

“Video in and give us a rundown.” Hotch hung up. Ever the conversationalist.

Garcia and Y/N squeezed into the same frame seeing everyone gathered in the little plane seats. She gave them the basic rundown of her findings, watching them all shake their heads at the fact she solved the case already.

“Have the local PD issue a warrant and bring him in. Can you check and see if he knows the victims?” Hotch asked.

“On it sir,” she smiled, clicking away.

“How did you do that so fast?” Morgan has to ask, “it’s not human.”

She laughed again, “If I’ve learned anything in the last 10 months it’s that traumatized little boys can fuck up a lot of people’s lives.”

“Preach,” Rossi added.

“Um, guys,” Garcia’s tone changed. “Cameron Hollis’s birth father is the father who was stabbed in this case.”

“You’re shitting me?” Y/N couldn’t believe it. “Do they have any kind of relationship?”

“His father is on the birth certificate but it looks like Adele left him when Cameron was 3, after some domestic disputes that had the cops at their door. She was remarried when he was 6, it doesn’t look like they ever really talked,” Garcia explained while continuing to dig.

Y/N watched through the monitor as the team gripped their seats, the plane was taking off now. They would be in Boston with this guy in just a few hours.

“Thanks, Lady Wonder,” Morgan winked at the camera for Y/N before leaning in and turning the monitor off.

She sat back and put her feet up once more. “Best birthday ever.”

—

They had Cameron Hollis in custody with a full confession before 5 pm that day. Everyone was beyond thankful that they would be back home with their families shortly.

Y/N had said goodbye to Penelope shortly after, driving home to have some alone time. Rossi would drive Spencer home, they lived close enough now that they could all carpool if they wanted.

She had never been in their new house all alone before. She took the time to just walk around and admire everything, being thankful that her life ended up like this. Not taking a second of it for granted.

She sat down on her bed finally, taking her phone out and calling JJ.

“Hello bestie,” she answered.

Y/N smiled, “Hey, do you think Will could find a babysitter tonight?”

“Probably, why?”

“Tell him to drop Henry off and head to my place. I’m going to have pizza delivered and you can come here with Spencer when you land,” Y/N offered. “Have a date night with us.”

“That would be amazing, I’ll call Will right now. See you later,” JJ sounded happy. It made her smile.

“See you.” She hung up, laying back against her bed softly.

She changed quickly before heading downstairs, wearing a pair of leggings and an academy t-shirt. She was getting too big for almost everything she owned now.

She placed an order for a few pizzas to arrive at 8:30. Next, making sure she had more beer in the fridge, for the nights when Will wandered over with JJ. They had visited almost every weekend since she and Spencer moved in.

That’s when she saw him.

chapter 20

Previously...

The dream was always the same:

A man would get into their home, he knew their schedule, he knew when she’d be alone.

He’d get in without any trouble and he never made a sound. She wouldn’t even know he was in the room until she felt the cold metal gun press against her face, as shaking hands instructed her to tie her own behind her back.

He’d always use her supplies. Duck tape, shoelaces, scarves. Anything at his disposal that he didn’t have to bring with him. Almost as if he didn’t fully choose her to be his victim until the very last minute.

He assaulted her all for what felt like hours, stopping occasionally to cry in the bathroom or eat a snack in their kitchen. And he always showered at the end. Sometimes, he’d wrap her up in a housecoat, put her sheets in the wash and sincerely advised her to invest in a better lock for the sliding door.

Then he was gone.

Slipping into the night, on his way to become someone else’s nightmare...

There was a man in her yard, he was dressed in all black, with a backpack wrapped around his shoulders and a ski mask on his face.

He couldn’t see her from where she was in the kitchen, but she could see him. She ducked to the floor and crawled towards the stairs, booking it up the steps and grabbing her gun. She made sure it was loaded, grabbing a second clip from her nightstand and tucking it into her pocket. Then she detonated the alarm system from the remote on Spencer’s bedside table.

She crawled into her closet, making herself look like a pile of clothes.

And she waited.

She felt a little insane, she tried to convince herself that it could be anyone from a neighbour to a lost person from the trail. For all she knew, it was someone from the academy lost in the woods.

She tried to calm her breathing, calling Will with her cell phone. “Hey, JJ just filled me in-“

“There is someone in my backyard in all black with a backpack, how fast can you get here?” She panicked in a whisper.

“Fuck, okay, I just dropped Henry off at the sitter. I’ll be right over, stay put and I will call you when I’m there,” his southern accent came out more when he was stressed.

“Okay, thank you,” she hung up and took a deep breath.

She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds in her house.

She remembered what the house sounded like that morning. The stillness, the quiet peacefulness of her and Spencer in the bed only 12 feet away from where she was now hiding.

She remembered the way the floors creaked as it popped and settled with the heat, how the tree outside would sometimes tap the window, the sound of snow tumbling off their roof. Passing cars on the main road kicking up gravel, the odd bird singing in the cold breeze, her own heartbeat in her ears.

Then she heard the alarm turn off with its overly happy welcome home chime. Only knowing one man would be able to disarm her alarm system without a code, and he was in the air right now.

“Open,” she heard the alarm’s voice as the door opened.

Footsteps travelled along the hardwood floor in wet shoes. She listened to the sound of the wet rubber on hardwood explore the first floor.

There were 2 people in her house, splitting up as one went to the kitchen and one went up the stairs.

She aimed her gun at the doorway, aiming to shoot anyone who walked through the door in the leg. Not wanting to kill anyone who she knew that might’ve gotten in for a different reason, unannounced.

In the rare happenstance that this wasn’t her worst nightmare coming true.

Her hands were shaking as she kept the gun pointed for what felt like hours, just waiting for him to find her. The door handle started to turn slowly, she heard the sound of the old metal grinding ever so slowly.

The first thing she saw were his eyes, yet again. The same eyes that haunted her dreams, the eyes every woman she spoke to for 2 years remembered from behind the ski mask.

Fuck Wichita, he was her own personal nightmare. He had been for a while. Those eyes, big and black all the way around, not a single glimpse of colour or life or hope. Every single dream came flooding back as she saw him in her doorway, the same aura of death, destruction, loneliness and despair from all those months ago was now filling the most special place in her home.

He still hadn’t seen her in the closet, looking around the room carefully as she watched him. Waiting for him to get closer, and closer to where she was. Finally peeling back the wooden closet door.

“Surprise, bitch,” She said before aiming higher and shooting him between the eyes, knocking him down.

She stood and stepped out of the closet, “Travis fucking Johnson,” she shook her head as she looked at the man bleeding on her bedroom floor. Taking his pulse to ensure that he was dead.

She couldn’t hear anything for a second, trying her best to zone in on the sound of someone tiptoeing in her kitchen, “WHO ELSE IS IN MY HOUSE?” She screamed.

Suddenly she could hear the sound of a car on the gravel and then a door slamming. She stepped into the hallway, gun pointed, looking over the railing towards the front door.

“Y/N?!” Will yelled. Gun pointed as he entered her house.

“I’ve got one down, I think there’s another in the kitchen,” she replied.

“On it.”

Y/N looked down the hall, none of the upstairs rooms were open, every door exactly how it looked when she ran up the stairs. She headed down the steps when 2 shots were fired.

She quickly ran to the kitchen to see another man on her floor behind the counter, his feet the only thing she could see as he laid there, dead. Will was standing over him, taking his pulse.

“He’s gone,” Will confirmed.

Y/N finally let herself panic, shaking as she tried to catch her breath, pulling out a chair from the counter and sitting down. Her adrenalin was running wild in her bloodstream, she didn’t even know how to speak let alone think about what had just happened.

“Y/N,” Will’s soft voice brought her back to reality. He was right beside her, wrapping his big strong arms around her to try and calm her down. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“Who was it?” Is all she asks him.

“I have no idea, who was upstairs?” Will asked.

“Travis Johnson, from my first case with the BAU,” she calmed down a bit, breaking away from the hug to get off the chair.

She walked around the counter island, looking down to find another man she knew, bleeding on her brand new hardwood floors. “Oh my god,” she felt sick at the sight.

He smelled the same, stale and rotten. The same look on his face even as he slipped into eternal damnation. Empty as when he was alive, pure evil down to his core. Dead to match how he felt inside as he did those awful things to undeserving mothers.

The second worst man she’s ever come in contact with.

The Winnemucca Womb Raider.

She backed up into Will, he held her close so she didn’t drop to the floor, helping her back into the chair. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah,” she felt herself starting to cry. “How? They were both in prison?”

“We need to call the police,” Will said softly before taking his phone out.

“911 what’s your emergency?” She could hear the muffled woman’s voice as he pressed his phone to his ear.

“This is Detective William LaMontagne Jr. Two men just broke into my friend’s home and tried to kill her,” he explained the situation, making her shutter.

She watched as he talked to the woman, suddenly not able to hear anything as her body slipped into shock. She was completely numb. In the last 10 months she hadn’t fired a single shot on the job, and yet on her birthday, the one time she's alone, she has to kill someone in her own home.

The place where she was supposed to feel safe and happy. Where her new life with Spencer and Matthew was supposed to start. They promised Gideon love and laughter, having that dream stripped from them when Pure Evil stepped over the threshold.

It was just like the dream, the last one she had before Spencer wrapped himself around her, calming her down.

This time he wasn’t here, he didn’t even know that this had happened, he wasn’t always going to be there to save her. She pulled herself back into the moment, calming herself like she had all those years before him.

She wasn’t a damsel in distress, he knew that.

A man walked into her home, the one time he knew she’d be alone and vulnerable.

That was the only part of the dream that matched.

Unlike her dream, she wasn’t a victim. Not in this house. Not in her space. Not ever.

The sound of the sirens echoed in her ears finally, she turned to the commotion of officers running into her new house. Will walked them through it all, telling them who Y/N was and that this was her home. How she saw a man in her yard and hid before killing him upstairs.

“Ma’am?” A stranger in a uniform tried to get her attention. “Ma’am, can you come with me?”

She nodded, standing up and finding support in the man’s arms. He wrapped her up in a silver blanket before he led her outside and into an ambulance. She had her vitals taken and an oxygen mask placed on her to help her calm down.

“Is the baby okay?” She asked the EMT, pulling the mask off her face so he’d hear her.

“Yes,” he smiled. “Strong heartbeat, no signs of distress but you need to relax so we can keep it that way.”

Will climbed into the ambulance then, taking her hand in his, “hey doll, are you okay?”

She nodded, “just a little shook up.”

“I called Spencer,” he said softly. “They’re 30 minutes from landing, then him and the team are on their way. No one told the team about the prison break in Oklahoma, they didn’t even think to connect them back to you.”

She sighed, “two cases in 2 different states, where the offenders ended up going to a 3rd state to meet and do time together and bond over the women who put them away. Makes sense.”

“You put them both away?” He asked.

She nodded again. “I basically made it my life goal to get Travis Johnson, he’s the reason I have this job, he’s the reason I’m pregnant right now,” her words trailed off into whispers. “I saw him in November, he congratulated me when he saw the bump.”

“Who was the other guy?”

“The Winnemucca womb raider, he would kill pregnant women by strangling them before removing their wombs,” she looked at him, horrified. “They wanted to kill us...”

She wrapped her arms around her own stomach, she had almost forgotten to worry about him. To even think that she was more than just one person at the moment.

They weren’t after her, they were after the most important thing to her. Her son, her baby boy. Like all the mothers before her, like their own. They wanted her to suffer, for her son to be spared a future worse than death in their opinion.

All the images from the cases came flying back as she blinked faster and faster. Strangled women, removed wombs, thanking God for a second that Spencer was the one to see the recovered organs in his trailer. A sick feeling bubbled in her body, a chill ran deep in her bones.

Then everything went black.

—

The first thing she remembers when she gained consciousness again was that Spencer was furious. She could see him and Hotch in a heated conversation from inside the ambulance, she tried her best to wake up and zone in on what was going on.

It was too dark for her to read their lips, but he was angry.

JJ was sitting beside her now, holding her hand. “Hey, bestie.”

“Did the cat get out?” She doesn’t know why that’s the first thing she asks, “the door was left open, did he get out?” Still in shock, still trying to understand everything.

JJ shushed her, petting her hair as she leaned in close, hugging her softly. “He was in the laundry room, Will said he made sure to find him when you were getting checked out.”

“Good,” she nodded along as she listened. “I’m so overwhelmed.”

JJ let out an awkward laugh, “I can imagine.”

“I’m also starting to fall in love with your husband,” she found her sense of humour then. “He has perfect timing.”

JJ laughed a little harder, causing Spencer’s focus to shift to the ambulance. Y/N watched him run towards it and jump in.

“Y/N, oh my god,” Spencer wrapped his arms around her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “I’m safe, the baby’s healthy,” she assured him.

He kissed her all over her face, making her giggle when he wouldn’t stop, repeating kisses all over her face, her ears and her neck. She could hear JJ also laughing as she watched with Hotch just outside.

He finally stopped to catch his breath, hugging her again with his face in her neck. “I love you,” she reminded him.

“You love me?” He pulled back, “I love you so fucking much, I am never leaving you alone again.”

“Spencer,” she laughed, “I think I handled it pretty well.”

He huffed and shook his head, “you shouldn’t have had to handle this in the first fucking place! It’s not that fucking hard for someone to call the god damn FBI and say hey two psychopaths that your genius new girl put behind bars, fucking escaped!”

She finally knew what Hotch meant when he said Spencer’s anger scared him. She looked at him like he was a whole different person, “Spence, baby, I know. It’s okay, I’m fine see?”

She placed her hands on his cheeks as she looked into his beautiful hazel eyes, watching his pupils change size as he focused on her. Love and life behind them, true happiness clouded by horror at the thought of losing the love of his life.

He was what a true man was supposed to be, a real genuine person with love and kindness, and empathy. Her soulmate, her Spencer.

“We can’t control everything, that’s what you told me. We handle what’s in front of us, and we do it well,” she smiled as she reminded him.

Spencer started to cry, pulling her in close. “I can’t lose you.”

She cried at the sound of his voice, his heart shattering as he cried in her arms, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Terrified on a level she’s never seen in him before.

She rubbed his back as she held him, rocking him lightly as she shushed him absentmindedly. Soothing him as if her life depended on it, it broke her heart to see him this broken about the idea of losing her. She loved him so much it made her heart physically ache in her chest as she held him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, whispering against his hair. “I’ll kill a million men if it means coming home to you.”

He laughed in the middle of his cries, she could feel him smile softly as he sniffled against her shirt. “Promise?” He asked as he pulled back to look at her.

She wiped the tears from his cheeks, his beautiful eyelashes clumped together in the wetness. He was so sweet, she couldn’t help kissing him quickly, “promise.”

—

Hotch insisted they head to the BAU with the rest of the team while he handled the crime scene and the forensic clean-up, knowing on a personal level what it was like to clean Evil’s blood out of your bedroom carpet.

Y/N was sitting in the car waiting to leave when she saw Will coming out of her house with 3 pizzas. “I forgot I ordered those,” she gasped at the sight.

“You should’ve seen the look on the delivery guy’s face,” JJ laughed.

It was really bizarre having a pizza party in Rossi’s office after shooting someone in her home. Everyone was trying to be as chipper as possible to try and take the tension off the situation, but Y/N was pretty quiet.

Morgan got everyone to settle down before closing the office door, sitting close to her and Spencer. “Everyone in this room has either been shot, in danger, held hostage or worse,” he offered her some support.

“If you want to share anything, express any feeling or just tell us to fuck off, you can,” his words were soft, she watched him with soft eyes as he spoke.

“The only thing I can think of is that fate is fucked up,” she replied, the honesty slipping off her tongue like it was made of butter.

“You have the floor,” he insisted that she continue.

“I moved into a tiny apartment, farther away from my job, because I needed somewhere to live, and I found Spencer in the hallway. Spencer led me to you, and you guys helped me find Travis Johnson, my personal nightmare case of 2 years,” she explained like they never knew that. “But it’s so much more than that now.”

“We ran into Travis at the prison in Oklahoma a few months ago,” Spencer added. “He noticed that she was pregnant and congratulated her.”

“But the thing that’s fucking me up the most is that, and sorry TMI,” she warned them before continuing. “but we conceived the baby in Kansas when we caught the VICAP counsellor, only a few towns over from where we arrested Travis. Then we ran into him on a different case in Oklahoma, and he happened to be in the same prison as a man from New Mexico I put away for killing pregnant women. Something about this all lines up so perfectly... I hate that I find it so interesting.”

“That is kind of insane,” Morgan agreed. “I think it just means you and Spencer are being pulled together by something with bigger plans than you realize. And you’re a good shot, so thankfully you have nothing to worry about now.”

“Thanks,” she smiled.

She held Spencer’s hand, looking down at the ring on her finger that meant she was his forever. As much as she hated the idea of a man owning a woman, she loved the idea that Spencer was her person forever.

They were tied together in a way no one would understand, she loved him deeper than she ever thought possible.

Everything happened for a reason. Her reason just so happened to be Fate wanting her to spend the rest of her life, Happily with Doctor Spencer Reid.

—

She woke up around noon the next day, Spencer was sitting up beside her reading a book when she finally clued into where she was. They had spent the night at Rossi’s house while the forensic cleanup team handled her kitchen and bedroom.

“Good morning,” she smiled up at him, stretching against the sheets as she fully woke up.

He put his book down and joined her, wrapping her up in his arms and kissing her neck softly.

“Good morning,” he replied finally. She loved his voice when he hadn’t spoken yet. His vocal cords yearning to be used.

She smiled against his skin, holding him against her chest as she breathed him in. Her safety, her cosmic soulmate.

Everything just felt better in the world when they were pressed this close to each other. This was how they were meant to be.

“How are you feeling?” He asked after a few minutes of silence.

She rolled him onto his back, snuggling into his chest and lifting a leg over him so the baby wasn’t squished. “Good, I’m excited to go back home later.”

“You’re not scared,” his fingers ran through her hair as she felt his breath on her face.

“No,” she shook her head against him. “Yesterday could’ve been a lot worse, but I’m trained to think on my feet and the danger is gone now. I’m never going to let myself be a victim in my own home.”

“I love you,” he reminded her. “And after yesterday-“

“I want to get married soon too,” she cut him off, getting up and sitting on his hips. She ran her hands over his chest as she looked down at his beautiful, still puffy, morning face.

He beamed up at her, “I feel it too, I want to make it official. I want to shout it from the rooftops that the love of my life chose me too.”

She nodded softly, “and we agreed that in April this year we’d go to Vegas, and we’d do it. I think we still should, I just want to plan it a little.”

“Of course,” he agreed, squeezing her thighs in his excitement. “Come here.”

She held his face in her hands as she leaned down, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip as she looked at him ever so softly. “I love you,” she said before kissing him.

His hands wandered over her back, holding her into the kiss. Breathing in deep through his nose, kissing her as if they hadn’t seen each other in months.

Spencer was desperate to love her, and she was desperate to be loved by him.

She broke the kiss to just look at him, moving his hair back and pressing her forehead against his. “The park across the street from my parents house,” she whispered.

“Mhmm.”

“I want to get married there, I want to start the rest of my life in the spot where I first really fell in love with you,” she explained, her lips close enough to him that the words could have stuck to his skin.

“I think I can pull some strings and get us a permit by April,” He smiled against her lips, “what day are we thinking?”

“The 23rd, 1 year exactly,” she said before Spencer pulled her back into another kiss, this time it’s soft and delicate. “Until forever,” she whispered against his lips.

“You need to promise me one thing,” he added. Feeling her nod as she kissed down his neck. “I know you said you’re fine, but the second you’re not I need you to tell me.”

“Okay,” she agreed, sitting back up as she straddled his hips. “You have to do the same, I can’t handle you crying in my arms like that again, it really broke my heart.”

He held his pinky out to her, she smiled as she wrapped her own around his. Both leaning in to kiss the other's knuckle, a small tradition Y/N adored.

—

They were back at their house by 5 pm. Hotch had ensured that everything was completely cleaned and there was 0 evidence that a crime had even taken place on the property. Penelope on the other hand had taken it upon herself to break into their alarm system and reset it for them shortly after everyone left.

They changed the code, closed the door and sighed at the beautiful home that felt a little different now. “I think I want to paint,” she announced.

“Yeah?” Spencer laughed at the suddenness.

“It’s too blah, y’know? I see what they were doing with the whites and beige for all the light. But, I’m thinking green in here to flow with the cabinets in the kitchen,” she walked through the foyer as she imagined the colours that would look good. “Like an olive or forest, maybe even jade. It’ll look nice with the dark wood.”

“That would be nice,” Spencer agreed. “Make it feel more like the old apartment.”

“Exactly,” she smiled. “I miss the clutter and the intimacy of the last place, and I know you miss the look of books everywhere.”

“I’m still alphabetizing them in my office,” he added. “I’d like to paint in there as well, I’ve been looking at antique chairs and couches for my reading.”

“Hotch is going to make us take 2 weeks off again,” Y/N looked at him with excitement. “We can put all our energy into this place now.”

“Let’s make it ours,” He agreed.

“Wanna go to the hardware store and look at paint samples?” She hopped with excitement, grabbing his arm and tugging on him.

He laughed, pulling her into his chest. “Sure, bunny,” he pressed his cheek to the top of her head as he held her. “What about Matthew’s room?”

“Oh, me and Penelope have it all planned, all the stuff is being delivered next month. She kinda went a little nuts,” Y/N laughed.

“He’s going to be one loved little boy,” Spencer chuckled. “Come on, let’s go.”

[sorryimanon]

Character: Shouto Todoroki

Long distance isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Your boyfriend, Shouto, goes overseas on a special mission in America. Back home, you try to take advantage of the distance with a couple of pictures.

Warnings: 18+, phone sex

Word count: 4k

-

Shouto watched with somber eyes as you packed the last remaining suitcase into the trunk of the car, back still turned against him so he couldn't see your tears. Bakugou and Izuku insisted on driving to the airport together, taking into consideration that they were all traveling overseas to the same destination. The night before, you were being a stubborn brat, not liking the idea of sending Shouto off at the crack of dawn. He showered you with affection afterward, his body never leaving your touch. Making love didn't cross both of your minds. It would've hurt in the after glow knowing the distance that'll be between you for the months to come. The two of you decided to just lay lifelessly in each other's arms, limbs interlocking, fingers carefully tracing skin, and hearts beating in unison. Moments like that is what truly captured the relationship as a whole.

With your back still turned, Shouto saunters over and wraps his arms around your torso, along with his head resting on top of yours. You hummed at his subtle touch. Eyes drawn to a close, you ruffled his split colored hair, already imagining the smile forming on his stern face. It was always a miracle when you manage to witness Shouto genuinely smile without forcing it.

You turned on your heel and reposition Shouto's hands on your hips. "Call me as soon as you touch down in America. Okay?" you didn't care at how needy you sounded, anything involving Shouto and hero work gave you anxiety.

The arm holding onto your hip soon reached the bottom of your chin, tilting it slightly so your eyes can formally meet. His dark irises became glossy as you stared harder, trying to capture every feature before he leaves in case within those months you forgot what he looks like. Even though you had a separate album on your phone filled to the brim with selfies and funny pictures of him, mostly taking up your storage space.

"I promise sweetheart. Remember, this will be the shortest 6 months you'll endure. I'll be home quicker than you can say All Might," he said, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. The action made you blush and giddy, referring back to the ways he'd make you feel during U.A.

Subconsciously, you both lean in against each other, waiting patiently for who's making the next move.  Your lips hovered over his, unsure if he wants to kiss goodbye or stay wrapped in your arms. A minute has gone by and you two stayed cemented in the same position. Fuck it, you thought. Who cares if it'll make you miss each other more. You harshly grabbed his face and leaned forward, preparing your lips to come into contact. But the loud beep emitting from the car made you both jump out of each other's grasp, knocking you backwards onto the cold surface.

Bakugou's head popped out comically from one of the windows, eyes gleaming with rage.

"Oi! Hurry up you dumbasses! We were supposed to leave 5 minutes ago!" he hollered, spit spraying out from this mouth.

You overheard Izuku, who was in the passengers seat, trying to calm down the explosive blonde. A pair of calloused hands slipped behind the back of your neck, crashing your lips to mount another. There's no hunger in the kiss. No teeth or tongue battling it out. Just pure passion burning within the languish kiss. Feeling satisfied, Shouto released himself from your mouth, leaving you breathlessly staring back at him in awe. With one last romantic gesture, your boyfriend rubbed the outer part of your cheek and pinched it between his fingers, smiling at your reddened reaction and shuffled towards the side door of the car.

"I love you y/n," was all he said before sliding the door shut.

You mumbled the exact sentiment as the car revved up and maneuvered out of your driveway. Shortly after wiping away some dried up tears, the car soon disappears from your line of vision, leaving you all alone on the driveway.

“All Might...” you whisper to no one in particular.

-

About 3 months into the trial of long distance, you were already experiencing the symptoms of postpartum-boyfriend-syndrome. Constantly crying yourself to sleep? Check. Going through his Instagram to make sure he didn’t delete any of your pictures together? Check. Texting him every hour on any given day to see how fast he’d respond? Check. Also, the inevitable weight gain from stress eating? Double check.

A couple of your friends noticed the sudden mood change when Shouto arrived in America that first initial month of separation. Momo for example, confronted you in the locker room at the agency one day, spewing about how you almost got yourself decapitated by a villain when your guard was down.

“I’m sorry Momo. My mind has been in the gutter lately. Shouto hasn’t texted me all day since this morning. I’m just worried this whole long distance thing is going to ruin our relationship,” you admitted , wincing at how incredibly clingy you sounded.

Momo began undressing herself, her lips caught between her teeth, clearly taking in what you said. Once she shimmied our from her hero costume, a devilish smirk rested upon her face.

“If you feel like your relationship is going grey, maybe try to spice things up a little. Ya know? Use the distance to your advantage.”

Your hands stopped themselves from unzipping your tight suit. “Hah? What do you mean by that?”

Momo chuckled, amused by how innocent you were acting.

“Come on, you know what I mean y/n,” she slipped on her everyday attire and closed the locker. “You know what they say, a picture is worth a thousand words.” With that she gave you a wink and left the room.

A picture huh?

Across from you was a massive mirror. Each end reaching the edge of the room, everything being showcased, including you. Sometimes you’d walk in catching a few of the prohero girls taking selfies. They all had one thing in common, confidence. Something you had before Shouto’s departure. It felt as if someone used an ice pick to cut away the very little self esteem you had left, leaving you with barely anything to offer anymore. You couldn’t help to compare yourself to the proheros Shouto has been working alongside with since being in America. American girls were a different breed. Everyone over there looks exactly the same but different somehow. You tried not to think too much as you resumed on unzipping your hero costume. Today you wore a plain black bra set underneath. You hardly put on anything skimpy or sexy since you’re practically on patrol everyday, resorting to your trusty sport bras.

You caught a quick glimpse of yourself in the horizontal mirror, gaping at the added fat in your chest area. All thanks to the weight gain, your boobs looked delicious in the bra. The lower half of your body was nothing to ignore either. Your ass filled up the small undergarments, cheeks teasingly spilling out.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Momo’s words enticed you enough to grab your cellphone from the pocket of your duffel bag. Work hours was over for everyone in the building, so you weren’t worried about someone walking in on this compromising state.

You tried to mimic the poses you witnessed from the times you watched the girls do it. One hand on the hip, the other behind your head, along with angling your ass to the side. The pose was uncomfortable. How did they manage to hold this stance for longer than ten seconds? You took some pictures anyway, ignoring how awkward you presented yourself in the mirror.

Each picture you swiped through didn’t meet the criteria. Were these even good enough to send off to Shouto? He loves you no matter what, he reminded you everyday in fact, but your stomach dropped of the thought of him being revolted at these images. You quickly deleted all of the them and sighed in defeat. One more try.

Dropping down to your knees, you held the camera above your head, showing off every part of your body. You spread your legs a couple of inches, your cloth slit on full display. To add even more, you leaned forward a little bit to have your boobs almost spilling out from your tight bra. Through the camera lens, the top part of your nipples were visible. Surly Shouto wasn’t dense to not notice.

Your mouth was agape as you stared at the pictures you recently took. This person in the frame didn’t look anything like you. If you were to show this to Momo she’d be a proud mother.

Without hesitation, you sent a couple of the pictures to Shouto, leaving a cute little message at the bottom once they finally delivered.

Missing you extra today :) xoxo

You didn’t wait for his reply and started packing up everything in your area. Hopefully Shouto won’t be angry at your sudden bluntness, but he left you no choice. An acute noise came from your duffle bag. The blood rushing through your veins suddenly became very cold. It must be a message from Shoto, it has to be. You waited till you arrived safely home to check what he responded with. To your dismay, it was a reminder for next weeks meeting. You shuffled out from your car and headed straight to your shared apartment, a pout currently prominent on your face due to the failed mission.

On the other side, Shouto sat stoic in a plush chair listening attentively to one of the leaders reporting about the current mission. Next to him was a grouchy looking Bakugou, who was currently falling in and out of sleep in his seat. By no surprise Izuku was the only one in the group wide awake and full of energy. The trio has been traveling across the nation helping out with smaller hero agencies in hopes for there to be a stronger allegiance between the USA and Japan. So far it’s been excruciatingly draining on not just their bodies but minds as well. All Shoto wants is to feel the familiar warmth of your body pressed against his. His touch starving tendencies wandered into his personal life when Bakugou caught him snuggling the hotel pillows one night, mumbling your name over and over again. Pathetic as it is, he misses you so much. Although, he wouldn’t admit that out loud, he tried to keep you updated on everything that’s been happening. He has a hard time expressing his feelings, especially when it comes to you. So when he felt his bottom pocket vibrate, he half expected it to be a goodnight message from you, since you’re a couple of hours ahead of him. Nothing prepared him for the promiscuous photo you shared of yourself plastered on his screen, looking back at him with dilated eyes and flushed cheeks.

Blood rushed to the lower region of his pants as he pinched the screen to get a better inspection of you. He thought you looked absolutely beautiful in this vulnerable state, not to mention how your body perfectly clings to his favorite pair of underwear, every curve and beauty mark showcasing before him. Below the plethora of lewdness, a short message from you was attached.

Missing you a extra today :) xoxo

Stifling a groan, he began to type out a reply, stumbling on his words even in text. Before he could press send, someone slapped Shouto’s shoulder and dragged him to his feet.

“Come on half cold bastard the meeting is over. We’re free to go,” Bakugou grumbled as he pushes Shouto out of the cramped room, having Midoriya to follow suit. Bakugou shifted his gaze to Shouto’s phone, gazing at the gross nickname for you on the screen. Shouto angles his phone away from Bakugou’s peripheral vision, praying that he didn’t see your half naked body.

Shouto stuffed his cellular device into his back pocket again, awaiting for the right moment to text you back. Knowing the dynamic of the relationship, his silence is nothing out of the ordinary, so maybe you weren’t thinking too much into this.

Hours later and still no reply from Shouto. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, you figured he probably hasn’t seen it yet, but the “read at ___” has your heart twisting in a knot. You knew he was a couple of hours behind, but would it take for him to at least send a well thought out compliment. Maybe he’s in the midst of an intense battle? Or worse, hooking up with one of the American colleagues. No, Shoto isn’t like that. Being unfaithful is uncharacteristically unlike Shouto. You mentally slap yourself for painting your loyal boyfriend in a different light, all because of some stupid pictures.

Clearing your mind from anymore self sabotage, you did your nightly routine to get ready for bed. As you tucked yourself in, the bright light from your phone flashed, indicating a notification. Everyone in your contact list has already gone to sleep. Everyone excluding Shouto. Frantically, you reached over to grab the phone, swiping across the screen to view his message. The following text shot daggers through your chest.

Call me now

No mention of the photos you sent hours ago. It took him this long just to conjure up a cryptic message. Although, you were curious to see what he'll say to you once he picks up. You pressed the phone icon on his profile and waited, the ringing making you sweat with anticipation. He answered on the third ring.

There was an uncommon silence hanging in the air. On the other end of the call, you can hear the faint acute breathing coming from your boyfriend. You laid frozen in bed, cowardly holding in your breath to prevent any noise.

Shouto broke the silence and said, "I'm sorry for not texting you all day. There was an immediate emergency that lasted longer than we expected."

You nodded your head, but then caught yourself after realizing he can't see your movement over the phone, and let out a grunt instead.

"So..."

"So?" It came out more aggressive than you wanted it to be, but the constant cat and mouse game of today set you over.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked.

No. Not in a million years could you ever be angry at him. Yes, sometimes there's things he did that you wish he'd do better, like expressing himself instead of sheltering back in his shell. Or the way how you envied the relationships your coworkers had, their partners showing them off like it was second nature. Not once did Shouto verbally express his sexual desires. As selfish as it is, you wanted to explore more with him than just regular mundane vanilla sex. Sadly you knew his response was probably going to be lackluster. But no, you weren't mad, just jealous.

"I'm not mad Shouto. Just...very disappointed in you."

In the background, the definite click of a lock from a door rattled your ears. He's in his hotel room, you thought.

"Is this about what happened earlier today?" he started, dragging his tired feet to the hotel bed. "You know, the pictures-"

"Right, the only pictures I put any effort into just for them to be completely ignored by my own boyfriend."

The line went silent again. Even though he isn't here, if he was, he'd be glaring at you with his intense stare, those bi-colored eyes never wavering away from yours.

"You really want to know how I truly felt about those pictures you sent?" His voice dropped a lower octave, sounding as though he dipped himself in pure molasses. Rich as it is, his sudden change of tone aroused you, sending an involuntary wave of pleasure through your body, tipping to the peak of your sex. The only time you heard him sound like this was either when he's livid to the core or about to completely wreck your shit. Both would coincide with each other on special occasions.

He didn't give you enough time to answer, figuring you were too stubborn to reply, and voiced his inner thoughts.

"The fact that you even think I didn't appreciate the photo's is quite silly sweetheart. In fact," you can hear the clanking of metal on the other end. "It makes me sad that I'm not there to worship every inch of that body. Was that your plan all along? To get me worked up by how much I miss your touch?" Shouto struggled removing his pants, the tent forming beneath them restricting him to smoothly slip them off.

You tried to keep your excitement down by squeezing your legs together, almost to the point where they crossed. Soon your breathing became sporadic. Just picturing Shouto touching himself while you both were on call gave you an adrenaline rush. Knowing you couldn't touch him but just yourself intensified your arousal even more. Slowly, you dragged a lazy finger from your sternum to the area around your belly button, tracing small circles on the skin.

"What would you have done to me if you caught me in that moment? Taking those pictures," your sultry tone boomed through his speakers, almost taken back by your approach.

Shouto raised his hips and shimmed out from his tight work pants and started palming himself through his briefs. "Sweetheart, id do nothing but ravish you. Taking my sweet time with you....fuck...I miss you so much," he couldn't hold back the whine he trapped in his throat as soon as his finger swiped over his clothed slit. The sound alone triggered a warm sensation spreading down below, already feeling the wetness coating your panties. By now, Shouto’s fingers would be disappearing inside of you, scissoring and messaging your velvety walls till you broke out screaming, but you had to make do and resort to playfully teasing yourself.

"Ngh...I miss you too...S-Shoto."

"Are you touching yourself love?"

Both of you were far too gone in arousal, there was no point in holding back your sexual pleas.

"Y-Yes, but I wish it was your fingers instead."

Hearing those words coming from your lips encouraged him to shove his entire hand down his boxers, gripping the base of his cock with ease. A small gasp left his lips feeling the crisp, cold air of the hotel room hit his exposed member. He shifted his hand vertically, giving light tugs to it before pumping it vigorously. The sensation strained him to close his eyes, seeing nothing but you doing the work for him. Late nights in the various hotel rooms consisted of him getting off to memories of all the intimate moments you two shared together. Of course it was lonely, but he never resorted to surfing the internet of lewd videos of random girls. They just weren't you. But tonight, he could finally relieve himself to the sweet ambiance of your moans. And he definitely wasn't going to regret it in the morning like usual.

"Listen to me, go faster for me baby," Shouto instructed, "Imagine it's me touching you."

Your cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, fully coaxing your face in heat. You followed through and dipped your fingers into your sex, feeling the warm texture of your walls petting them. All those months without any sexual relief built up so much tension that the tightness within you restricted from anymore movements. After a few strokes, you loosen and manage to reach in far enough to the peak of your knuckles.

Meanwhile, Shouto's hand never grew tired at the tedious strokes, pre cum dripping till it reached his inner thighs. Your name kept spewing out from his throat like a mantra, like you were the only thing he prayed for at night. Despite his lack of moaning, he grunted with each pump, the built up causing him to breathe heavy as well. Generously, he held the phone close enough for you to hear the continuous slapping of skin, along with the combination of wetness. You didn't restrain yourself from moaning though. Every whimper, moan, and groan reverberated across his empty hotel room.

"You wanna know something?" He tried to keep his breathing at a normal pace, but he hastily kept pumping at quick speed. "Everytime I go to one of those dull meetings, I can't help but to imagine you riding me in front of everyone...ngh!"

The confession elicited a moan from you, along with your legs shaking due to the stimulation. Your head flew back and hit the pile of pillows, mouth agape as you added in another finger.

"I miss the feeling of being inside you. So...fucking...bad,” he was beginning to lose his voice , sounding as though he was in constant pain. Poor boy.

"I never took you as being so up front Shouto, what happened?" You challenged him through the phone.

"I guess you really don't know me baby," Shouto shot up from the bed and bent over, not once removing his hand from his member. "Fuck fuck fuck...I can't wait till I come home, so I can finally taste you."

The coil within you was beginning to snap. Snaking your fingers underneath your shirt, you started flicking your thumb over one of your perked nipples, still immersed into the idea that he's actually the one touching you instead. Toes curling and arms bunching up the sheets, you knew you were about to climax. Just by hearing his speech pattern, you can conclude he was close as well.

"I'm about- I'm about to cum S-Shouto!" You pathetically whine.

"Cum with me baby. I've been holding off for you."

Even during intense moments like this, Shouto's gentleman persona didn't fade away over the course the relationship. With the knowledge you have now, knowing he's been on the verge of relief, you pumped your fingers in sheer brutality, never once missing the g-stop. Throwing his head back, Shouto was now on his knees pleading for mercy from the pleasurable pain shooting up through his member. He let out an exasperated whine.

"Now baby, cum for me."

Then you felt it, the knotted tension within you disappearing. Everything around you looked white, like someone snuck in and painted your room a different color. You can faintly hear Shouto orgasming on the other end of the phone as you calm down from yours. He's heard you climax many times before, but hearing your angelic screams over the speaker made him cum harder.

A few minutes later and you two were now recuperating from the intoxicating session, harsh breathing overlapping each other. It felt like years later when he detached his hand, now coated in his own fluids and cramped up. You loosened yourself and removed the two fingers finally. They glistened with your fluid as well, giving off the impression it was just sweat.

"Y/N? Are you still there?" Shouto's voice alerted you awake, almost forgetting you didn't manifest him to finish you off. You grab the phone after cleaning your drenched fingers and propped it on the pillow next to your shoulder.

"Wow that was-."

"Amazing?" He finishes.

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

He mischievously chuckled, "I know. I heard it loud and clear a minute ago."

You audibly groan loud enough for him to hear while snatching the nearest pillow to smother yourself with.

"So, are you planning on sending any more pictures like that during these last 3 months?"

His innocent inquiry made you break out into a grin that stretched from ear to ear. Those pictures sprouted a future of appraisal from your boyfriend, who you thought would never voice his inner thoughts till the day he dies. You two also found a secretive kink to phone sex as you continue to explore with him during these periods of loneliness. Once he arrives home, he assures none of that is just a “phase” as you two kept venturing beyond to sext each other during important events.

A picture really is worth a thousand words.

-

(Truthfully, honestly, this is possibly the worst thing I wrote but someone asked for a cute little passionate session with Shoto specifically. I hope you enjoyed (?)

[coffeecaffineandeverythinginbtwn]

Here is my @maribat-secret-santa-2020 gift for @liquid-luck-00

I’m really sorry It’s not finished (i had trouble finishing it due to school and some rough mental health problems) but I will be posting the outline so you can know the rest of what I had planned!

again i’m so so so sorry it’s not done. happy new year! please enjoy!

:readmore:

Marinette and the Runaway Assassin

~

Marinette Grason and the Runaway Assassin

The first thing they could remember was always flying.

Their parents always told them that the first thing a Grayson ever did was fly.

Whether it be him tossing his sister in the air as she did flips, or flying on the low swing trapeze with his mother and father. they were born soaring.

Their family was the best of the best. Humans with the agility and grace of birds. Their family never stayed on the ground for long. Nothing could keep a Grayson on the ground.

Until they fell.

Their wonderful parents never flew again.

~

Dick was trying his best to keep it together, for his sister, but the pain was almost too much. He was just 16. What was he supposed to do now? He wasn’t of age to care for Marinette and he certainly didn't have much money at all.

It was two days after the fall that killed their parents. Dick had cried himself to sleep, so full of grief, stress and uncertainty the night before. He wanted, no, needed to keep his sister safe, but what were they supposed to do? Live on the street? Marinette deserved better than that. Not to mention her schooling. There was just so many things he needed to think about he had no idea if they’d ever even survive -

A knock sounded at the door, startling Dick from his thoughts.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice came from behind the door, “I would like to speak to a mister Dick Grayson.” With those words the pit inside his stomach grew. It was probably some social worker coming to separate him from the only family he had left.

Dick opened the door and saw a large man with dark hair and blue eyes in a suit, “If you’re here to take me and my sister to some orphanage, leave now. It’s not going to happen. Get lost.” Dick, the normally polite boy, ended his statement by quickly closing the door.

“Wait!” The man jumped in, using his foot to jam the door. “I’m not a social worker. Mister Grayson I presume?” Dick just narrowed his eyes and nodded his head, “My name is Bruce Wayne. I was hoping to come to an arrangement that would greatly help you and your sister.

Dick had the urge to scoff, but he let the man, Bruce, continue.

“You see, I lost my parents at a young age as well. I want to make you and Miss Marinette my wards. You two would both get to live in my manor with your own room and have all the things you two would need to live a happy life. And you would not be separated. This can all happen effective immediately, as soon as you say the word. So, What do you say?”

This was insane. It was everything he and Mari could need. They could lead a normal, safe, and good life. There were so many goods that could come of this and yet…

Graysons are never tied to the ground my little robin. We must never be afraid to spread our own wings and soar. We are free spirits and we fly our own way.

With only that thought in his head, his ressove hardened.

“While I appreciate the offer Mister Wayne, I’m afraid I have to decline.” He began, “My parents used to say that we should never let ourselves be tied down. They were free-spirited and loved to travel. I want my sister and I to continue their legacy.”

Bruce looked a little shocked at this, and also a bit put out., but he quickly covered it with a determined look of his own.

“I see. If I cannot assist with housing, please let me help in any other way possible. Money is no issue, I can promise you that.” Bruce looked so ready to help them. And hell, if they couldn't use the help.

Dick was at a loss for words, “I- Mister Wayne- I can’t thank you enough!” Marinette would get to have the life their parents would have wanted for her. He didn’t have to worry about money any more. They could be free and go where the wind would take them. This flood of relief he felt did ease his grief a little for only a moment. It was one weight lifted off his shoulders.

“It’s the least I could do Mister Grayson.” He nodded, looking a bit relieved himself.

“Please, call me Dick Mister Wayne.” At that Bruce’s mouth quirked upwards the tiniest bit.

“Only if you call me Bruce.”

~

Over the next few years, Dick and Marinette went everywhere imaginable, traveling with the circus.

Eventually they decided to travel at their own pace. Marinette instided they spend more time in their favorite countries. They spent a few months in each, both gathering a love for each culture and language. Marinette especially took a bit of every country with her, absorbing each like a sponge.

Without the circus to keep them active in their travels and with barely any means to keep themselves protected, Dick and Marinette accumulated a mesh of different fighting styles. Neither ever truly mastered one, but both fought in a way very specific to them.

~

Currently somewhere in Italy, the two were waiting for one of their mentors to arrive for a meeting.

“Duckie!!” Marinette, now nine, ran to her brother with that particular spark in her eye, “Duckie! Guess what!”

Dick, smiled a little at the familiar nickname, “What’s up Nettie?”

Marinette jumped up and down excitedly. “Look what I can do!”

The small girl smiled and ran a little ways into the field nearby and did three handsprings to the shock, and pride of her brother.

“Good job Marinette,“ A voice that was not Dick‘s called from behind them, “I’m glad to see that you are improving well.”

An overall average looking man in his late 30’s wearing a firm, yet warm expression walked towards them.

Their mentor, Malachi Dobraski.

“Uncle Chi!” The Marinettw siblings voiced, running to him.

Malachi’s mouth turned upwards at the sibling’s outburst. “Yes, yes I have finally arrived. You two are, of course, ever so humbled to be in my presence.” There was a stretch of silence before the three burst out in laughter.

“Wonderful to see you two as always.” He said as he bent down to give Marinette a hug.

“So what did you need Malachi? You never call meetings so early in the month.” Dick said as he turned to face him.

Malachi hummed in an impressed manner, “Very astute Richard. I asked you here today because I wanted you to meet a friend of mine I had mentioned earlier. Gina, If you remember.”

At the mention of the woman Marinette perked up, The one who travels all around the world like us? We really get to meet her?” She topped off her questions with a wiggle of excitement.

“We’ll have to see about that Nettie.” Dick spoke fondly as he smiled at his sister’s antics. He then turned his attention to Malachi, “Will she be in town soon? You’re rarely one to throw out praise for no reason and you’ve spoken highly of her in the past.”

“She is a lady well deserving of my praise, Richard. To answer your question, yes. Ms. Gina will be in town Thursday evening.” their mentor said with another small grin.

Dick hummed while tapping his chin, “That’s about two days from now. Unfortunately me and Mari probably won’t be able to meet with her right away. We’re tied up until Saturday I believe. Will she be in town for long?”

“Gina is a free spirit, so it’s hard to say. However she has been interested in you two since I mentioned I was taking students again. I expect she’ll stay long enough to meet you.”

“That’s great!” Dick said, as cheerful as ever, “That settles it then.”

“Yay! We get to meet aunt Gina!” Marinette exclaimed, jumping up and down.

Instead of correcting his sister, Dick just shook his head with a laugh. Why does everyone we hear of instantly become family?

~

Marinette sat at a tall table in a quiet cafe. Her tiny legs swung eagerly underneath her as she hummed to herself. Her brother was up at the counter ordering their drinks. She was sketching, or trying to. It was really hard to focus when she was so full of jitters.

Today was the day they were supposed to meet Ms. Gina and while Marinette was excited, she was just as, if not more, nervous. She has always been this way with new people.

————————

That is the end of what i have written BUT NOW the outline:

Section One

Dick is older in this 16/17

Mari is 5 or 6

They grow up with their parents, until they die, again.

Dick is old enough to be emancipated/take custody of Mari

(Bruce didn’t adopt them but he helped Dick get emancipated and gave them loads of money)

Their parents were free spirits and loved to travel

Dick decides they should keep that alive.

The two stay with the circus traveling for around a year

And they continue to travel for 1 or 2 years

They meet Gina

Dick kinda wants to settle down Gina recommends Paris

They go to Paris

They get an apartment (thank you plot convenient Bruce money)

(she’s around 10 or 11 now. He’s 19 or 20 now)

Dick wants Mari to make friends or get a feel for regular school so she goes to FD

Section Two

Separately, Damian and the league are in turmoil (the coup happens)

Thalia might die Idk

Damian, not knowing what else to do, flees to Paris?

Tom and Sabine have always wanted children but were never successful

They find this aggressive child on the streets of course they take him in

Damian would grumble about their ‘lower status’ but would of course be secretly grateful and surprised at the unconditional love and care he receives from T and S

Section THree

Back to Mari

Being raised by Dick, she learned to be true to herself and also headstrong

She takes no crap from Chloé

(She eventually learns of her situation with her mother and they become less aggressive towards each other)

(she also learns a lot of different skills and fashion things)

Section Four

Damian arrives at FD

(He’s like 10 or 11 Mari is like 11)

Damian and Mari are both ahead of the curriculum (Both home schooled) same class

She is her kind self, doesn't know anyone else well and Dami is another new kid.

They stick together out of a sort of necessity

He’s cold at first but (go figure) he softens for her eventually

They slowly grow closer as friends

Dick becomes another behaviour mentor and Brother esq figure to Dami

Dick also sees Daminette’s in love right away

He teases Mari about it

Bada Boom they're 13 now

Section Five

Miraculos canon GO

Mari gets ladybug Dami gets cat

Mari doesn't get a crush on Adrien (the gum incident doesn’t happen because Chlo and Mari are on better terms)

Mari and Dami both immediately recognize each other in costume

Mari’s outfit is black with red detailing sans her cape/glider that’s full red with the five black spots. Has deep red boots that go up to the knee. Her ribbons are longer and can detach to use as a makeshift ribbon dance things (she also goes by Ladybird instead of Ladybug)

Damian’s outfit is his assassin outfit but black and tan undertones with cat ears (his pupils don’t change to slits) Damian goes by Leopard

Dick notices a change immediately He confronts Mari, She caves and tells him too

(She consequently reveals Damian’s Identity as well. No one could have that kind of chemistry with Mari that quickly)

He signs her up for many martial arts classes (She already had training in a few, picking up a lot from her travels)

Damian also helps train Mari in some ~Assassin Skills~

Basically, they’re bad asses.

The only thing stopping them from defeating Hawkey boy quickly is the fact that they can’t find where he is

Section Six

Moving on, Salt

Lila happens

Lila still sets her sights on Adrian (he’s got money at this point Damian is just a baker's boy to Lila.

Lila isolates the two from the rest of the class, even more so than they already were

Damian thinks the class are even bigger idiots

Lila is still an awful person and wants to make both Dami and Mari’s live miserable

Lila tries to go to Dick about Mari “bullying” her

He laughs in her face (he choses laughter instead of seething anger. thanks Hawky)

Lila then tries to get through to Tom and Sabine about Damian

This time it works, they have less reason to trust Damian (and he was also a major prick when they first took him in

(this happens over a year or so. Lila slowly gaining the trust of the class and Tom and Sabine)

The environment gets very toxic Dami and Mari decide to leave the school and go to online schooling (like at college level)

Section Seven

Time skip. They are 16 now

The two have had feelings for a while, they now realize them

Dami is less emotionally stunted, having both Dick and Mari around (Tom and Sabine too but they kinda suck now) so he doesn’t panic much

Mari is full panic mode

Dick is just in the corner all smug-like. (“you didn’t know you loved him? I’ve known this for years”)

Que pining

Lots of pining

There’s some angst, Tom and Sabine are negligent towards Damian (not mean but still neglectful)

He ends up staying with Dick and Mari more often than not

Eventually they both confess after a particularly rough akuma battle (the one where mari becomes the guardian?)

Both of them almost watched the other die. That was too heartbreaking for either of them to not confess

So they are together now.

It was an easy transition, they were already married pretty much

They’ve already figured out who Hawky boy is. They just need evidence

They get evidence. They also discover Lila was working with him

They take care of the Hawkmoth situation

Section Eight

Everything is good now right? Wrong

Batman Finally goes to Paris once Hawky is defeated,

(he kept in touch with Dick all these years and knew what was going on, {He practically became their “uncle Bruce”} He only stayed away cuz Hawkmoth)

When Damian sees Bruce visiting Mari’s House he freezes,

Mari: “what's wrong Dami?”

Dami: *whispers in her ear*

M: “He’s your WHAT???”

D; *whispers more*

M: “I- You- Um- WHAT”

D: *walks up to Bruce* “Hello, I know this is an odd way to meet but I am sure you know of Thalia Al’ Ghoul.” *B nods wairily* “Yes, well, I am your son. And unfortunately hers as well.”

“Yes, I’d be perfectly happy to do a blood test.”

Dick and Mari are shook

“Damian, You must come to live with me in Gotham”

Dun

Dun

Dunnnnnn!!!!!

End Part One

Again I am sincerely sorry I was not able to complete this story in time. Like I said before, I will (maybe/probably) be finishing this and planning a part two! I hope you enjoyed! (even though it’s the first fanfic i’ve written)

[cherrybracelets]

til the end of time

spencer reid x fem!reader / bau x platonic!reader

word count: 5.1k | warnings: typical cm violence, pregnancy and childbirth mention. other than that, all fluff and corniness

an: this is super stupid and corny; just sometbing i threw together !! i also wrote a lot of this on my phone if there’s typos don’t @ me

You had been imagining the day of your wedding since you were 12 years old, and attended your Aunt Maria’s wedding. It was the first wedding you had ever been too, and it was so much fun. Well, looking back, it was actually a very cheesy and poorly thrown together party in a cheap hotel, but at the time you were amazed.

You have attended quite a few weddings since then, much that were way nicer than Maria’s. Every one you went to, you gathered more and more ideas for what you wanted to do on your own big day (when the time came, of course.) You knew you wanted white roses in the centerpieces, vanilla raspberry cake was a must, and your dream venue was saved a thousand times on your Pinterest boards.

But, nothing ever goes as planned, right? When you started planning your wedding with Spencer, you know you would have to sacrifice a few of your ideas that weren’t exactly plausible. But you never in a million years thought you would be here.

It all started about a week ago, back in the lovely conference room of the BAU. You and Spencer sat next to each other, whispering away about wedding and honeymoon plans, the rest of the team scattering in and preparing to hear about a new case.

“I just don’t know what we’re going to do if my Uncle Mike brings his girlfriend…” you frowned, your stomach doing flips as you stressed more and more about the big day.

“Just have your mom call him and talk to him, he’ll listen to her,” Spencer assured you, squeezing your hand tightly, trying to pull all of your stress away. He hated how much anxiety all of this was bringing you. For him, your wedding was the brightest day of his future, it was all he could think about. And you felt the same, of course, but the planning was exhausting.

“Sorry to bring everyone in again, I know we’ve barely been on the ground a day, but we have a weird one today. Garcia,” Hotch motioned to the tech analyst, who smiled happily as she stood up and began her presentation.

“So, my friends, we are going to Spencer’s favorite place, Las Vegas!” She giggled, trying to bring lightness into a place that had seen so many horrors.

“Oh! I’ll have to call my mom!” Spencer smiled, always excited at any chance to see his mother.

“Let’s focus on getting this creep, first,” Garcia shuttered, pulling up multiple photos of dead bodies on the screen. “These are the two victims that we know of, Jenna Benson and Evan Perry.”

“What was the cause of death?” Morgan asked.

“Gunshot to the head. But, there are two ante mortem shots on each of the victim, one in the leg and one in the… nether regions,” Garcia shuttered, pulling up more pictures of the injuries on the bodies.

“Genital mutilation, that’s a statement,” you responded.

“And it was done before he killed them, so it’s definetly torture.”

“Do you think he could be trying to extort information? One bullet each time you don’t get a question right? You have three strikes to get it right?” JJ suggested.

“I don’t know, but these bodies were only killed a few hours apart, and chances are he’s already moved on to his next victim. Wheels up in 30.”

The group began to dismiss, Spencer’s hand still locked in yours as you left and went back to your desks.

“I’m gonna go grab our bags from the car and call my mom, you’ll be okay for a few minutes?” Spencer questioned, his eyes wide as he awaited your response.

“Yes, I’ll be fine on my own, Spence,” you giggled, rolling your eyes as you turned towards him and back at your desk, mixing thoughts of your big day and the big case racing through your mind.

══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

The plane ride was long, going backwards in time to reach the opposite coast always took a while. The team spoke for a bit about the case, before saying all that could be said and separating into their own comfort. You and Spencer sat close in the chairs, your head resting on his shoulder as he flipped through some case files.

Garcia had popped in earlier with the knowledge that the victims attended high school together, making these killings seem a lot less random.

“Jenna was a freshman when Evan was a senior, it’s probably unlikely they knew each other,” Spencer whispered to you, his brows furrowed as he tried to uncover something between the lines.

“I knew a lot of seniors when I was a freshman,” you shrugged, dismissing his theory.

“Yeah, but you went to a small school, everybody knew everyone. Vegas high schools aren’t like that,” he responded sharply, his knowledge of his hometown showing through.

You decided to let Spencer think silently; he tended to work best that way. You shut your eyes for a bit, only waking back up to feel the plane descending.

You didn’t know how you had managed to let time pass away like that, but the stress of everything must have been wearing you down. Spencer had fallen asleep too, his groggy eyes reopening as the plane hit the ground.

Hotch had already given you your assignments, you and JJ off to the second crime scene, which happened to be Evan’s house. The cars were there when you walked off the plane, and an extra car tasked with delivering your luggage to the hotel you probably wouldn’t have a chance to go to.

As you landed, Hotch took a quick phone call, his face making that familiar look when something happened.

“Another body?” Emily asked as he hung up the phone.

“Two. Let’s all go back to the station, for now. We need to sit down and go over everything. If he’s working this quickly, this is a spree. And we have a lot less time than we thought.”

“I’ll let the Detective know,” Rossi nodded, walking towards the car and hopping in the driver's seat. The rest of the team followed, you and Spencer walking side by side to the car that Derek had claimed as his.

“Glad I took that little nap on the plane, doesn’t seem like we’ll be sleeping for the next 48 hours,” you giggled, getting in the back seat of the SUV.

“Probably 72, if we’re being realistic,” Spencer teased, getting in the passenger's seat. He always got in the passenger's seat when the two of you were in the car with one other person. You never questioned it, but one day he let it slip that he just didn’t want the person in the front to be lonely.

You got to the Field Office about twenty minutes later, partially thanks to Derek’s driving. As the rest of the team continued to arrive, the three of you walked into the building to begin your work. You greeted the Agents and Detectives, avoiding small talk as you knew the urgency of this case. Luckily they had a room and boards all set up for you guys. Spencer and Derek began hanging evidence on the boards, as you called Garcia to get an update on your latest victims.

“Hey baby girl, what do you have for us?” Derek flirted, while neatly hanging photos.

“The two vics were actually killed previous to our two victims. Not graduates of our high school, but! One of them is Jenna Benson’s mother, Cheryl. But I cannot find a connection to the other one.”

“Her mother? So there’s gotta be some dirt in that family. What can you find?” You asked, twirling a pen in your fingers.

“I’m looking, but I can’t find much. Cheryl’s husband and Jenna’s dad, Clint, apparently left them when she was 15. Filed for divorce and just left. Other than that, they look pretty normal.”

“What about hospital records, medical stuff? Are there signs of abuse?” Derek asked.

Your phone started ringing loudly on the desk, which you quickly declined and put in your pocket.

“Sorry, go on Garcia,” you apologized, uncomfortably shoving your phone in your jacket pocket.

“Doesn’t appear so… oh, woah. This is odd.”

“What did you find, baby girl?”

“When Jenna was 14, she had a doctors appointment where they noted she was 6 months pregnant. And there’s no other documentation of it. No other ultrasounds, no birth or death certificate of said baby.” Garcia was clicking away, trying to find any trace of other evidence.

“What year was this?” You asked.

“1991.”

“So if the baby was born, they would be 29 now. Fits the profile of a spree killer,” Spencer shrugged.

“Yeah, but how is there no record of this child anywhere?”

“Children,” Garcia chimed in, her voice filled with dread.

“Come again?” Derek asked.

“According to her doctor, Jenna was pregnant with twins.”

At this point, the rest of the team had finally arrived, coming in just in time for the call. Garcia filled everyone in, each of you silently going over the facts. You tried your best to focus on the case, but your mind was still drudging over the details of your wedding. Your phone kept buzzing in your pocket, and you were certain it was some vendor or family member trying to take your money or beg for a plus one. But you couldn’t think about that, not now. You had to be here, be present. You had to catch this man.

“I have another information bomb that is going to blow your minds,” Garcia chimed in, her voice in shock as she awaited permission to talk.

“What is it?”

“In 1992, Cheryl and Clint Benson deposited two sixty-thousand dollar cash deposits in the same week.”

“That’s about how much a baby would go for on the black market,” Spencer added, his fact bringing you all to the same conclusion.

“We have to find Clint Benson, he’ll be the only one that can help us,” Rossi said.

“Do you think he’ll cooperate? That’s super illegal, he might not indict himself,” Emily added.

“We can offer him some kind of deal. If our unsub is one of the children, he’s the only shot we have at finding him.”

“I’ll work on finding the dad. I’ll talk to you guys soon.”

The team split up into smaller conversations, your phone still vibrating violently in your pocket. Spencer walked up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“You doing alright, honey? You seemed distracted earlier…” he pouted, kissing the top of your head with ease, showcasing his clear difference in height from you.

“I’m just thinking about all the wedding stuff… it’s stupid,” you answered, shaking your head in defense. “It sure doesn’t help that my phone won't stop ringing!” You groaned, ripping it out of your pocket and slamming it down on the table. The team stopped what they were doing and looked towards you, but Spencer waived them away, as if to say, ‘I’m handing this, don’t worry.’

“I’ll answer, and take care of it whatever it is. You focus on the victims, see if we can find some more connections, okay.” Spencer gave you a reassuring kiss on the lips, holding your phone in his palm and walking out to the hallway to handle your never ending stress.

You turned towards the files, trying to take your finances advice and focus on the victims. You looked at the photos over and over, trying to see if there was something you missed. Something that would make this make more sense. And then you had a thought. Something that might make this make sense.

“What if he’s looking for the dad?” You shouted, hoping someone would be drawn to your thought.

“The two men have nothing in common,” Derek responded.

“No, no. I know. But, like…” you stuttered, trying your best to organize the words into your head so they would understand. “The old man is still an outlier. But this younger victim, Evan. He went to highschool with Jenna. What if all the information he had on his dad was he was a senior at her school. Maybe he had a picture, and he’s hunting guys who might be the one.”

“If he came face to face with his mom, though, why not just ask her directly? If he is shooting them to get information, why wouldn’t she give in?” Emily questioned.

You thought for a moment, but JJ came in with an answer before your brain could think of one. Thank god.

“Maybe she wanted to protect him.”

“How would he have gotten a picture of his supposed dad though? Why would she give him a picture and not a name?”

“We’re missing something here. And unfortunately the only way we’ll find it is with more victims,” Rossi said, crossing his arms in frustration.

“And there are. Two more bodies have been found, this time much more recent. Time of death is only two hours ago,” Spencer added, walking back in from the hallway.

“And identification on them yet?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah, they’re sending their names to Garcia. It’s two more men, though. Roughly the same age as Evan. Same look as well, according to the Agent that told me.”

The phone in the middle of the table started ringing, a sign that Garcia had important information to fill your heads. Her voice always brought a kind of sweetness to your thoughts, making the whole room seem brighter.

“Garcia, what’s up?” Rossi asked her, awaiting the key to unlock this case.

“Two more victims both went to high school with Jenna. And they do look a lot alike…” Garcia said.

“Okay, can I state the obvious here. If these babies were sold, what are the chances either of them make it to 29? Most creeps buying infants don’t want them for longevity,” JJ shuttered, feeling sick at the words she was saying, but knew it needed to be discussed.

“Actually, an alarming amount of babies purchased illegally are bought by real parents looking for children to adopt. The adoption process is incredibly lengthy and difficult, and it’s even more difficult to find a newborn. A lot of… more affluent couples take this route.” Spencer nodded quietly after he spoke, something small you had always noticed about him. It was almost if he was reassuring himself that he did okay, that he said all he needed to say.

“So the only shot at finding either of these babies is through Jenna’s father,” Hotch sighed, realizing again that almost all cases came down to one cruical final piece. Clint Benson was your final piece.

“Lucky for you, Aaron Hotchner, I have found our man of the hour. Clint still lives in beautiful Las Vegas, only about fifteen minutes away from where you are now. Sending the home and work addresses as we speak,” Garcia teased, a few of you giggling as your phone’s received her information. Spencer handed you your cell back and smiled, kissing your forehead.

“I handled everything. No one will bother you again,” he assured, making you feel relaxed for the first time in weeks.

“Well, people can bother me a little, it’s still my wedding,” you teased, pushing Spencer slightly as he rolled his eyes and walked back towards Derek.

“I think we should bring Clint here versus ambushing him at home. He may not know about Jenna and Cheryl yet. It only hit the news cycle an hour ago, and they aren’t even releasing the identities,” JJ spoke, her motherly instinct always kicking in in times like these. She was right, as she usually was. It would be better to hear that kind of news here.

“Reid and Derek, go to his house. JJ and Rossi, go to his work. (Y/N) and Emily, stay here and start working on a profile based on what we have so far. Hopefully we can present something soon after we talk with Clint.” Hotch nodded at you all, making sure you all understood your tasks. You blew a kiss to Spencer as he walked out, feeling calmed by his quick smile before he was gone.

══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Clint Benson was devastated when he heard the news of his wife and daughter. He still loved them both, but the guilt and shame of what happened was too much for him. According to Clint, the whole thing was his wife's idea. When she found out Jenna was pregnant at 14, she was heart broken. It was too late for an abortion, because they had only officially found out when she was six months.

“Cheryl was humiliated. Pulled her out of school, locked in her room. Didn’t want none of our friends to see her, to know what she did…” Clint sobbed, his voice tripping over itself.

“Which is why she never saw another doctor?” Hotch asked, carefully poking around for answers.

“Yeah… I kept trying to talk to her, ask her what we were going to do. Telling her Jenna needed to see a doctor. But Cheryl just said she was handing it, was taking care of all of it. I… didn’t know what to do. And then when Jenna went into labor, I begged Cheryl to take her to a hospital… but she wouldn’t. She barricaded herself in front of Jenna… until it was too late. She had them… right in her bedroom… a boy and a girl. They were so, so beautiful.” Clint was crying more, his words sounding more garbled with each passing second. You felt sick, horrible for the man.

Times like this made you wish for the distraction of the wedding. You tried picturing the suit you had planned for Spencer. The colors were perfect for him, and would match the rest of the theme perfectly. But then you remembered the guest list, and the caterer not having enough vegan options, and the open bar messing up your signature cocktail… And don’t even start with the DJ!

“Where are the babies now, Clint?” Hotch asked, his voice now rough and full of urgency.

“I… don’t know exactly. There wasn’t much information passed. Just names and cash.”

“What were the names?”

“Uh… the girl… she went to a couple named Ashley and Brian. The boy… Danielle and Andrew…” Clint mumbled, trying to remember more.

“Wait…” you whispered to yourself, something finally clicking in this case. You ran into the interrogation room, interrupting Hotch, much to his shock.

“Do you remember Andrew’s last name? Or what he looked like?”

“Uh… I think his last name started with an M… He had glasses. Does that help?”

“Hotch… our first victim was Andrew Masters.”

“Yes! Masters was his last name! Wait… victim? Did something happen to him? Is this connected to what happened to Cheryl and Jenna?”

You and Hotch looked at each other, a silent understanding between the two of you. You both knew what was happening here. Andrew Masters was killed by his own son. He was one of two babies given away by the Benson family that fateful evening. But why start murdering your family out of the blue? There was still something missing here.

“Have Garcia find out everything she can about Andrew’s son,” Hotch instructed, nodding you away as he readied himself to continue talking to Clint.

You ran into the hallway and called Garcia, looking around for Spencer, trying to tell him about the break in the case. Whenever either of you found something vital to the investigation, you always told each other immediately. You had done that since your first day on the team.

“What can I do for you, beautiful?” Garcia asked, distracting you from your thoughts about Spencer.

“Andrew Masters, our first victim, can you find anything on his son?”

“Uhh, sure. I can do that... what am I looking for exactly?” She questioned, still typing away madly in the background.

“We think he may be the unsub. Any triggers, any red flags?”

“Hmm, well here’s something. Up until two months ago, he was engaged. Can’t find a reason why it ended, but almost two months ago exactly they cancelled the venue, vendors, everything…”

“For no refunds, I’m sure,” you giggled, knowing well how the wedding industry worked. “What’s the ex fiance up to?”

“Well, she moved back in with her parents, Ashley and Brian, who look relatively normal…” Garcia responded.

“Wait, say that again. What were her parents' names?”

“Ashley and Brian Gregg.”

“Holy shit, Garcia. You’re a genius. Thank you!” You kissed loudly into the phone, hanging up the call and running towards the conference room. Everyone except Hotch was there, but you texted him to meet you in the conference room- that it was urgent.

“Guys, you will not believe this,” you finally said, after everyone arrived and was quiet enough to hear you. “Our first victim, Andrew, was the father of the son that Jenna gave away. Now, Jenna also gave away a daughter to another couple. Now, what are the odds of this. These two kids grow up, fall in love and get engaged. Talk about a trigger, finding out the love of your life is your secret twin.”

“You’re joking… evil twins again? Didn’t we already do this?” Emily laughed.

“It’s most likely just the guy. I’ll call Garcia and get her to send us everything she has on him. We gotta find this dude,” Derek instructed, leaving the room to speak to Garcia.

“How did they find out, though? Chances are the parents didn’t even know they were twins,” Rossi asked.

“Most likely not. Clint said the babies were picked up on different days.” Hotch added.

“It doesn’t matter how he found out, what matters is that he’s gonna kill a lot of people until he finds his ‘Dad’. He wants to punish anyone he thinks is involved in this crime.”

“We’ll put his picture out all over the media, and an APB on any vehicles he has. He won’t be able to hide for long. He has a mission, he’ll have to complete it.”

══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Hotch, as usual, was right about the unsub. He did not stay in hiding for long. The police and FBI searched for six hours in his comfort zone, almost giving up hope, until he finally caved and came looking for another victim. JJ and Derek got to him first, trying to persuade him to drop his gun and come with them.

When it was finally all over, you felt equally ecstatic and exhausted. You couldn’t wait to crawl up onto a leather private jet chair and take an amazing nap. You were sad you didn’t get at least one night in the hotel. Something about hotels made Spencer get in a certain mood… even if you got a night away, there wasn’t much sleeping happening.

But you were grateful to be going home, at least until the next case popped up. You and Rossi were the only two that stayed back while the team went searching, wanting to be here in case any new bodies popped up. Rossi was wrapping up some paperwork with the other Agents out in the main room, and you paced back and forth in the conference room, hating the silence that was left when you were alone.

Rossi walked casually back to the conference room, and you could’ve sworn he had changed clothes. Maybe it was the extreme lack of sleep, but you could’ve sworn he didn’t look so… nice when he left the room.

“You ready to head to the airport? Everyone is gonna meet us there.” Rossi said, holding the door open for you.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure,” you responded, slightly confused at why the team didn’t come back here first. They usually did. But, everyone was tired and there really was no need to come back, you and Rossi had taken care of everything you needed to do to leave.

You followed Rossi down to the car, making small talk as he got in the driver’s seat and began heading away. You had only ever been to Vegas on trips for work, so you’d never really seen much of the city. It didn’t help that every street looked almost identical. You felt lost as you stared out the window, wondering how a young Spencer Reid could’ve survived in this massive city.

“Oh, before we get there, I just have to make one quick stop,” Rossi said, turning the turn signal on and pulling to the side of the road.

“Oh, uh, right now?” You questioned, jolting up as he hastily parallel parked the car.

“Yeah, it’ll be real quick. But, this isn’t a great part of town, so maybe you should come in with me…” He instructed, turning the car off and waiting for your answer.

“Um… I think I’ll be okay, Dave.” You laughed, rolling your eyes and turning to look at your phone.

“I really think you should come with me.”

“Are you not gonna go unless I do?”

“Pretty much.”

“Fine!” You rolled your eyes, opening the passenger door and getting out of the car. You stood on the sidewalk, standing angrily as you waited for Rossi to get out and walk to you.

“What are we even doing here-” you asked, turning around and getting smacked in the face with one of the cheesiest and most stereotypical Vegas chapels you had ever seen. Neon flashing lights, Elvis decor, cheap paint. It was amazing.

“Why the hell are we at a Chapel? Are Emily and JJ finally getting hitched?” You laughed, staring at disbelief at the building.

“Why don’t you just go inside…” Rossi instructed, waiting for you to enter the building so he could follow.

“Alright…” you responded, walking in the door and being immediately bombarded by JJ and Emily. They were in dresses, which made you even more confused.

“Come with us! You’ve gotta get ready!” JJ said, grabbing onto your arm and pulling you towards a door down the hallway.

“What is happening? Did we drink too many Margaritas at the taco place again…” you said, still being dragged against your will to a secret room.

And then you saw it. Emily opened the hideously pink painted door to a small dressing room, and in the middle was the single thing about your wedding that had gone right.

The dress. You found it a few months ago, and immediately knew it was the one. It was one of the first dresses you tried on, but you knew immediately it was the one for you.

“How did you… what is happening…”

“You’re gonna put the dress on, and then you’re gonna get married. That’s what's happening,” Emily shrugged, pushing you in the room.

“But… no… what about… and…” you stuttered, sitting down on the cigarette infused couch, the smell of stale smoke so strong it made you gag when you sat down.

“Okay, let’s not sit on that,” JJ laughed, pulling you up and away from the toxic furniture.

“I can’t get married. I’m not ready!” You protested, Emily stripping your clothes as you stood shocked.

“Just get in the dress, everything will be okay,” JJ assured you.

“No… I can’t…”

“Get in the dress, (Y/N), or I swear to God I will have to hurt you,” Emily joked, her eyes trying to be serious but a tiny smirk made it obvious.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

But then you put the dress on. And they were right. Everything made sense. You loved Spencer, and nothing mattered except marrying him, promising your life to him. The location, the guest list, the food… it didn’t matter. Your love mattered. He mattered.

“I’m ready,” you nodded, a few tears flowing down your cheek.

You walked out of the worst dressing room of all time, your dress dragging on the cheap shag carpet behind you. Emily handed you a bouquet of fake flowers, which made you and JJ laugh as you opened the doors to the chapel.

On the other end of a long red carpet was Spencer Reid, the one person you loved most in this world. He had on his suit, the one you designed in your head. You weren’t sure how he made it possible- you weren’t sure how he made any of this possible. But you couldn’t stop crying, a gush of hot tears flowing down your face as you walked anxiously down the aisle to your new forever.

“You are the most beautiful person in the world,” Spencer whispered to you, taking your hands as you reached the end of the aisle. JJ and Emily sat down next to the rest of the team, the only other guests in attendance. It was perfect, though. You couldn’t have imagined it any other way.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the love between (Y/N) and Spencer,” the man said. “Thank you all for coming to this beautiful celebration. Spencer and (Y/N) have decided to share their own vows.”

“Um, I don’t have my vows,” you sighed, looking around awkwardly at the crowd.

“Should’ve memorized 'em, like I did,” Spencer winked. You rolled your eyes in annoyance, lightly shoving Spencer on the arm.

“Do we need to do all this? I mean… I know you love me. I know I love you, and I hope you know that. I know that every small thing you do makes me fall more and more in love. And I can’t imagine any day of my life without you by my side. Can’t we just skip to the I do part and get married!” You wrapped your arms around Spencer’s waist and pulled him closer.

“I just want to say one thing before I kiss the bride. Nothing has mattered more to me than you since the moment we met. I would stop the world for you if I could. I wanted to do something to take away all your stress, and although I couldn’t do it perfectly, I think this is going pretty well.” Spencer smiled goofily at you, squeezing on your hand.

“Oh, the rings!” You squealed, looking around for the small box.

“Right here,” Derek smiled, handing the box to Spencer. “Best man duties.”

Spencer slipped the metal circle around your finger, his hands shaky as he slipped it on. You grabbed his ring from the box, putting it delicately on his hand, your heart racing, still unable to process what was happening.

“Is that it?” Spencer asked excitedly, looking up at the ordained Elvis, hoping to be married already.

“Well, I have to say one thing. I now pronounce you married. You may kiss your bride!”

Spencer wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. He kissed you excitedly, his lips moving rapidly with yours.

tags: @gayprentiss @blakeprentiss @bitchyreid @spncersreid @yesimaunicorn @slutforthegubes

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

Prompt, Angst, The titan gets badly damaged and a lot of the crew are dead or injured, mariner goes AWOL from the cerritos to find out if boimler is okay and there's a scene with boimler unconscious on a biobed and Mariner is like "you have to live so I can feed you to an armus for leaving the cerritos!"

A/N: you sent this prompt ages ago, but the words just wouldn't happen lmao. So six months late and a few thousand words short, here you go:

ao3

Okay, so here’s the thing.

Beckett keeps files on everyone. Not physical files of course--too insecure and hackable (she should know). But a mental file. Still hackable if she runs into a telepath, but still slightly more secure from the rest of her coworkers.

It’s not as if they’re particularly like. Creepy files. She isn’t snooping into anyone’s actual physical file onboard or obtaining any info illegally. She just observes things and passively marks them for later. Tendi likes peanut-butter sandwiches. Janice gets her neck tattoos re-inked every few months. Captain Mom has a stick up her ass. That kind of thing.

It’s a fine tuned compartmentalization that’s useful in a variety of situations, whether it’s knowing what to say in a social situation or who to trust during a red alert (tip: always go with Rutherford, he’s anxious but the least likely to betray you and throw you out of an airlock. Bonus: he’s the most likely crew member on this trashcan to actually have a working idea).

Some mental files are incredibly detailed. For instance, the one on her mom is about as thick as a handbound copy of War & Peace and just as boring. Everything from her favorite flavor of ice cream to her first response to an emergency situation is in there-incredibly accurate and incredibly detailed. She’s sure her mom has a similar mental file on her as well, but resolutely does Not think about it.

Some mental files are almost empty. Ensign Gent’s toothbrush is pink. First Officer Ransom has nice abs I guess. That dude who’s name I can’t remember opened his third eye and ascended into the afterlife or something I wasn’t actually there Tendi told me and I was on my fourth drink.

And then some are medium sized but entirely unremarkable.

Like Bradward Boimler’s, for instance.

Loves classic rock. Dyes his hair purple. Stickler for rules. Needs to loosen up a bit. A lot. Probably needs to get laid. Definitely needs to get laid.

That’s it, that’s the entire file. Beckett doesn’t really concern herself with whatever’s going on with Boimler beyond the occasional ribbing or co-assignment. It’s not because she doesn’t like the dork. She would tentatively (but never to his face) call him her friend if cornered. And she enjoyed riling him up.

She updates the file about a year (almost two) into her acquaintance with him. FUCKING BACKSTABBING TRAITOR. (That’s it now, that's the entire file.) She doesn’t revisit it again, not for almost eight months, despite Tendi’s cheerful updates on how he’s doing--they’re still in constant contact, despite his ghosting Beckett--and Rutherford’s worried comments on his well-being.

“It’s not our job to babysit him,” she snapped one day. “Hell, it wasn’t our job when he was here. Just let it go.”

And that was the end of that.

______

Okay, that was very much not the end of that.

It starts like this:

“Something’s going on, on the Titan,” Tendi hisses, dropping down into Beckett’s bunk at like 2am. Time doesn’t work the same out here as it does on Beckett’s home planet, but it feels like 2am so she’s calling it 2am. Everyone who’d been on the Alpha shift were pretty much dead to the world anyway, so it might as well have been. The point was, Beckett was sleeping, Tendi should have been sleeping, but instead the two of them are having an anxious stare off in the dark.

And Beckett’s currently having cardiac arrest from being startled so soundly. After her heart starts working again like a human heart is supposed to, the words begin to register. Sort of. “What?”

Tendi flips her padd around. Beckett blinks at the bright light from the screen, squinting to see what’s there.

“Is that morse code? Why the fuck is the Titian using morse code.”

Tendi stares at her unblinkingly, face flat.

Then,

“Oh. Oh shit. Shit!” Beckett sits straight up, throwing the covers off. There’s a few protesting noises and shushes that ensue around the room, but Beckett is already making a blind grab for her pants and shoes. “The fuck didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because people are sleeping,” Tendi whispers. Loudly. She rolls off the bunk and onto the floor, shoes already on. “So we’re going, right?”

“Of course we’re fucking going,” Beckett hisses. “Why wouldn’t-”

“Because you’ve been all hung up over him for the past eight months.”

“He ghosted me!”

“Okay yeah-”

“After accepting a promotion that he promised he wouldn’t-”

“Mariner-”

“He’s a backstabbing, little weasel who climbs over his friends-”

“Is this about that or the fact that you miss him?”

Beckett finishes pulling her shoes on and stands up, scowling. “I don’t miss him. Why are you defending him?”

“I’m pissed too. Don’t get me wrong, when we see him I’m gonna kill him. But I think this is more than that.”

“Whatever.” Beckett turns on her heel. “Are we stealing a shuttle or what?”

“Rutherford’s already on it.” Tendi taps rapidly on her data padd, keeping pace with Beckett’s light job easily. “We were hoping you could like. Let your mom know-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Beckett pulls out her comm, quickly typing out a quick message to her mother. “This is gonna be a shitshow.” The two of them enter the shuttle bay, which is pretty much deserted due to it being beta-shift.

“I have no idea how we’re even going to sneak onto the planet. It’s been on lockdown since the Titian crashed there.” Tendi’s shoulders slump.

“Leave it to me, I know a guy.”

“Of course you do,” Rutherford says, popping head out the shuttle door. “Good to go?”

Tendi gives him a thumbs up.

Beckett straps herself into a chair, stomach churning. “He’s fine though, right? Like, we would have gotten a call. Who’s his emergency contact anyway?”

Tendi worries her lip between her teeth. “His mom? I don’t know, it never came up and I don’t have access to his file.”

“He wasn’t on the list of deceased. Just the missing persons list,” Rutherford offers helpfully, punching in some coordinates.

“Well that’s reassuring,” Beckett mutters under her breath. She stares down at her comm, stomach churning.

_______

“Seriously, what are the odds of this even happening?” Tendi asks, dragging Rutherford by the arm behind them. A severely concussed, disgruntled Rutherford makes a grunt of what Beckett assumes is agreement.

“Do you really want to be arguing about the odds right now?” Boimler shrieks, sliding to an uncoordinated stop as the four of them run directly into the maze wall.

“Fuck,” Beckett says, eloquently.

“I thought you said you knew which way we were going!” Boimler runs a hand through his wet hair, face going through a series of complicated expressions before settling on frustration.

Beckett crosses her arms. “I did know where we were going. When I had the fucking map!”

“Why are you yelling at me about that? I didn’t even have it!”

“I don’t see anyone else here dumb enough to have lost it.”

“Guys-”

“You were the last person with the map, Mariner.”

“Unless some idiot took it out of my pack when I wasn’t looking.”

“Guys.”

“I didn’t touch your stupid map! Why are you so fixated on this!”

“Because if we had the map, maybe we wouldn’t be about to die via giant space spider!”

“Guys!” Rutherford shouts.

Beckett jumps at the unexpected shout from the usually quiet ensign. She turns on her heel, meeting Tendi and Rutherford’s unimpressed stares.

“Lookie, secret passage.” Rutherford waves a hand to a hole in the wall that hadn’t been there like two seconds ago. “You two good? Can we go?”

Beckett pushes past Boimler, lightly shoulder checking him and jumps through the doorway after her two annoyed friends. She doesn’t listen worriedly to see if Boimler follows her (she doesn’t) and she doesn’t resist the urge to turn around and make sure he’s close.

She balls her hands into tight fists and stomps past Tendi and Rutherford, ignoring the exchanged glances. “Please tell me this is a way out.” Her flat voice has the barest hint of a tremble in it.

You’re losing your touch, Mariner, get it together, she tells herself.

Tendi pulls a lighter out of her back pocket. (Because of course D’Vana Tendi has an old timey lighter on hand. There was a reason Beckett liked her after all.) It takes a couple of flicks, but she manages to get it to catch. The small source of light barely lights up their passageway, but it’s enough to see that it leads deeper into the planet.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Tendi sighs. “I’ll take the lead, I guess. You good, Sam?”

Rutherford grimaces, but nods. “Nothing I can’t handle. Let’s just get out of here.”

_______

It would be Beckett’s luck that she and Bomlier get separated from the other two. And it would just be their luck that there’s a cave in just before they reach the end of the catacombs. And of course, of fucking course, the Cerritos’ ETA on getting them out is anywhere from 2-6 hours, depending on how fast they can get the ship up and running again.

If anyone is using buffer time, Beckett is going to put spiders in their pillowcase.

“This is bullshit,” she mutters, dropping into a seated lotus position. She plays with Tendi’s lighter, flickering it on and off again.

Boimler grimaces from across her. “Can you stop that? It’s giving me a headache.”

Beckett makes steady eye contact again and flicks it off again.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck yourself. Or whatever,” Beckett mutters. She flicks the lighter back on.

Boimler makes a face like he’s swallowing back a retort. Instead of snapping back, he jams his hands into his pockets. “Can we- can we just talk about it? Like actually talk about it, not passive aggressively pretend like-”

“Like passive aggressively avoiding your best friend’s calls is okay?” Lighter flicks off again. “Yeah, that seems like bitch move, for sure. Glad I don’t know anyone who does that.”

“I’m sorry,” Boimler says into the dark, voice cracking.

“Fuck you.” Beckett flicks the lighter back on. Boimler’s eyes follow it, eyes dilating slightly as the light hits them. She flicks it off again, plunging the cave into darkness again. She flicks it back on. Boimler leans heavily against the cave wall, not looking at her or the light. He starting to look very pale. Paler than usual.

Beckett wonders about that headache.

“How long were you out here before we got your distress signal?” she asks, keeping her eyes glued to the lighter. She sees him shrug in her peripheral.

“Dunno. A while.”

Her stomach tightens. “You didn’t like. See anything weird?”

“You mean besides you and Tendi hauling ass? Not really.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why?”

“What about strange smells-”

“Mariner.”

“You look pale,” she snaps. “And like super clammy. And I’m not talking about your stressed out will Mariner stop talking clammy, I’m talking like I think you inhaled a deadly neurotoxin kind of clammy.”

“I feel fine! Just the headache. Aaand maybe a slight stomach ache,” he adds at her flat expression. “I always have a stomach ache though-”

“-yeah, yeah, it’s the ulcer you’ve had since you were, like, two, you’re a goddamn medical marvel Boims. Budge over.” She shoves the lighter into his hands and grabs his face. “Are you dizzy,” she asks, peering in closely at his pupils.

Boimler tries to shove her away, but she’s stronger and more stubborn. “A little. Look, it’s just the headache and str-”

“Yeah, do you usually get pink eye from stress?” she asks dryly, pulling back to giving him some breathing room.

“I-what.”

“Your white are like. Super inflamed or whatever. Boimler, I think something’s wrong.”

“Shit.” He rubs his temples. “What’s that ETA again?”

“Six hours. Give or take some buffer time.” Mariner stands up. She’s not worried, she’s not. “Maybe you should lie down.”

Boimler glowers at her in the dim light, hands tightly wrapped around her lighter. “I’m fine.”

______

“Good thing you pulled him out when you did,” Dr T’Ana tells Ransom. “Any longer-” she pauses, seeing Beckett’s expression. “Do you want to know what it was?” she asks her.

Beckett, who’s currently white knuckling the back of the plastic chair by the biobed, shakes her head. “Not really,” she replies, stiffly. “Long-term effects?”

“None,” T’Ana replies, scratchy voice almost gentle. Almost. “So feel free to be as hard on him as you want when he wakes up.”

Ransom barks a laugh, clapping Beckett’s shoulder. “Oh, Mariner knows how to be-”

“If you make a single hard joke in my presence, I’m tossing you back onto that planet,” Beckett replies flatly.

Ransom removes his hand. “Right! Right, I’ll just be on my-”

“Out,” T’Ana and Beckett snap.

There’s a pause after the turbolift doors close after Ransom. Dr. T’Ana eyes Beckett warily for a moment. Then, “Call me if he wakes up with any symptoms.”

“You said-”

“Yeah, well. He has a lot of surprises in him, doesn’t he?” She gives Beckett a pointed look before leaving, grumbling down at her clipboard.

Beckett glares down at the unconscious Boimler. “The shit I go through for your dumb ass.” She flops into the uncomfortable chair. “Wake up already. It’s no fun yelling at you like this.”

____

Surprisingly, Beckett does not yell at Boimler when he wakes up. It’s a near thing, though.

“Well, thanks for not letting me die, I guess,” he says, watching her warily after she’s done ranting. Not yelling, ranting.

“I wouldn’t have let you die,” she scoffs. “You’re still my friend, dumbass.”

Boimler perks up in surprise. “What?”

“Look, just because you pulled the ultimate shitty move, doesn’t stop us from being friends. You’re still on notice, though.”

“Right! Right.” He pauses, blinking up at her. “Does it help that I submitted a transfer back to the Cerritos before any of this went down?”

Beckett freezes. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong that was my actual dream job, buuuut-”

“Riker is crazy?” Beckett dryly supplies.

“I thought you were crazy,” Boimler lets out a whooshing breath. “Like I seriously thought you were the most batshit, insane person I’d ever met, hands down. But Riker is certifiable.”

Beckett grins. She can’t suppress it and she’s too tired to try. “So you’re saying I’m preferable.”

“I will take you any day of the week over that.”

“Sounds like a compliment.”

“It is.”

“Hmm.” She eyes him critically.

“Soooo,” he draws out the word. “Am I forgiven?”

Beckett picks his shirt up off the end of the biobed and throws it at his face. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He pulls it over his head, causing his hair to stick up in the back. Beckett suppresses the urge to smooth it down.

“I like watching you squirm,” she replies. “It soothes my massively inflated ego.”

Boimler barks out a laugh, easing himself out of the biobed carefully. Beckett turns to go--he still has to talk with Dr. T’Ana and possibly her mom over the transfer, and give his full report to Riker--but stops as he catches her wrist in one hand.

“Hey. Thanks.”

Beckett’s heartbeat rackets up a few notches. Stop that, she thinks at it and then stops because thinking at your own organs is weird. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, voice even. “You would have done the same for me.”

It’s true. Boimler may be a bit of a bastard and sometimes a shitty friend, but she has no doubt he’d have come running if it’d been the Cerritos accosted.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Sometimes I feel like that’s all I do with you.”

“What?”

He drops his gentle grip on her wrist. “Nothing. Just.” He shrugs, looking cagey. “I know I’ve been a bit of a-”

“Bitch?”

“--yeah, that lately. But. There’s not much I wouldn’t do for you. And that’s why I’m coming back. Because-because you deserve to know that. That you're my best friend, too.”

Her face heats up. “Yeah, well,” she mumbles. “Whatever.” Jams her hands into her pockets. “Don’t think I’m just gonna forget everything because you-”

“Yeah, I know. It’s fine.” He gives her a lopsided smile. “I just thought you should know.”

____

Beckett can feel the blush on her cheekbones until she reaches her bunk. Fuck, she thinks. Fuuuuuck.

She opens up her mental file on Boimler, crossing out whatever she had in there before. Best friend, she replaces it with. Stares at it for a long moment. Erases it. Puts it back.

Bradward “Brad” Boimler. Best friend. Loves classic rock. Dyes his hair purple. Has made some improvements, but still needs to loosen up a bit. Probably needs to get laid. Definitely needs to get laid.

You could help with that.

Best friend. She underlines in the file. You don’t have feelings like that for your friends.

Beckett throws herself into her bunk. She had the horrible, sneaking suspicion that Brad Boimler’s file was about to get a lot longer.

_______

[samcrobae]

Separation

I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me, I keep starting new stories when I have so many things I’m working on lol but @starrynite7114 and @ifoundmyhappythought have had my muse going strong this last week. Anyways, it’s a lil long winded, I tend to write how I talk, but let me know if you like it! ❤️ part 2 coming soon.

TW: none?

“Noah, get your backpack papi, come on.” You reach into your SUV and unbuckle your daughter, Emilia from her car seat. It was Tuesday which meant you worked night shift at the hospital which meant you dropped the kids off with Angel for the next 3 days. You and Angel had been separated for 6 months now. You had decided to walk away from him, the club, all of it when he got so invested in the cartel business and spend little to no time at home. He kept you in total darkness and distanced himself from you and the kids which is what killed you. Your son, Noah, needed his dad. He’s 5. And Emilia being 1, still too small to realize what was happening.

You put your phone in your back pocket and Emilia on your hip and walked towards the clubhouse, seeing Coco and EZ on the porch. “Tio EZ!” Noah ran to EZ and wrapped his tiny arms around his middle.

“Hey bud! What’s up?! Hi Emilia, Y/N what are you doing to my niece?! She’s huge!” He smiled a soft smile and then added “hes inside.”

“Noah, mommy’s going to go put your backpack inside with daddy okay? I’ll be right back.” You head inside and spot Angel sitting at the table, his head picking up when he heard your footsteps.

“Hey. Look Emi! Say hi dada!” He stood up and walked towards you and reached his hand out to touch you but before he could You handed Emilia to Angel.

“Here’s Noah’s bag. Please remember to make sure he brushes his teeth before he goes to bed. I’ll be by to pick them up Friday afternoon”.

“Yes, Y/N I know.. you look incredible querida.”

“Alright I gotta go. Bye Emi, I love you bebe, be good for dada.”

Before you could turn around you felt Angel’s hand on yours, “Come on Y/N.. can we talk about this? can we just stop playing this game? Just tell me You want me to come home...just say it and I’ll be there waiting for you at home with our kids.”

“Angel I gotta go, I’m meeting someone for lunch before my shfit. I’ll call tonight to say goodnight to the kids.”

His heart sank as he watched you walked out the door.

——————————————

“Oh I can’t, Angel, I’m meeting someone for lunch before my shift, Angel. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Angel mockingly repeated your sentence.

“Idk mano sounds to me like she’s meeting someone for lunch..” coco answered, lighting a cigarette.

“Yeah but is she meeting him for lunch or is she meeting him for lunch?”

“I don’t get it, you’re not together, she left Angel. She’s free to do as she pleases.” EZ contradicted.

“Fuck off Boy Scout, I put a ring on it. That she still wears. You know what that means? Fuckin engaged. Basically married. I haven’t gotten my dick wet in 6 months and she just sits around scheduling lunch dates with people?! Come on!”

—————————————

Friday came quick. You pulled into the scrapyard and before you could get out of your car, Angel approached you and opened your passenger side door, taking a seat next to you.

You eyed him suspiciously as he made himself comfortable. “Sure sit down Angel. Come in. How were the kids?” You sarcastically say as You unbuckled your seat belt and turned to face him. “What’s going on?”

“So, how was your lunch date? You know it’s so funny to me, and by funny, I mean not funny, that we haven’t broken up, you still wear my ring, and I haven’t had any other pussy except yours and you’re out here going on dates-"

“Angel I’m not doing this right now. I just want to pick up my kids and go home.” To be totally honest, you didn’t go on a date with anyone, you met your coworker, Christina, for lunch, but what Angel didn’t know wouldn’t hurt. You loved him, still did, and wouldn’t do that to him. You wanted things to work, co-parenting was fine, but the two of you haven’t had a conversation about your relationship. Maybe hearing--believing-you went on a date would make him get his shit together.

“Okay so then you tell me when are we gonna do this mama? You love me. I love you. We have a family. We can make this shit work.” He grabs your hands and brings them to his lips. You quickly pull away from him, earning a sad stare from him.

“Yeah and see that’s the thing Angel,” you said his name in Spanish, “it’s not just shit. It’s our family. Your son and daughter. Our kids. You still don’t see that. You lied to me. You kept secrets from me. You cheated on me. For fuck sakes Angel, Miguel Galindo came to our home looking for you and EZ. He was waiting for you in our living room when I walked in with our kids. OUR HOME ANGEL. You don’t see why I needed to walk away? Now, get out of my car Ignacio. Por favor.” You opened the door and went into the clubhouse where Noah and Emilia were running around playing with Riz.

You placed Emilia in her car seat and strapped her in as Angel helped Noah get strapped in to his seat. You shut the door and made your way around to the drivers side door when Angel shut Noah’s door and placed his hands on your waist. “Call Pop. Have him watch the kids tonight, come back later. We’ll talk.”

You leaned back against the car and placed your hands on his arms. “Angel, no, I don’t want to bother him and I really don’t want to party. I haven’t been to one of these in 6 months.” Every Friday night, the club house hosted a party, sometimes it was just them and the usual hang arounds, sometimes other charters, but it was always a good time.

“Come on, for a little. Besides Pop has been asking to see them for a while.” He swishes you’re hips with his hands, “Come on.. let loose, relax, you been working too hard. I can see it.”

You let out a small laugh, “fine, okay! Alright. I will call Felipe. But I’m not staying long Angel, I mean it. Now move.”

Angel made his way back to the clubhouse and sat on the porch steps with EZ. “You can’t hang onto her forever Angel. You need to let her move on if that’s what she wants to do. You should too.”

“Man shut up EZ! Nah, she’ll be back. I just gotta figure out a way to make her understand we were meant to be together.” EZ delivered a pat to Angel’s shoulder before heading inside.

————————————

You dropped the kids off at Felipe’s and thanked him repeatedly for watching them. “Mija, you don’t have to thank me for watching my own grandkids. Go, get out of here. Enjoy yourself.”

You said goodbye to Noah and Emilia and made your way to the yard. Chucky rolled the gate open for you as you pulled in and you waved your thanks. You parked in your usual spot. Even though you and Angel weren’t technically together, no one ever parked in your spot. You spot Angel outside on the bench, cigarette between his lips, talking with Gilly when Gilly tapped his shoulder and motioned towards you. Getting up off the bench, Angel slowly strides over to you, eyeing you and up down letting out a whistle.

“Wassup baby, you come here often?” He gives you a wink and pulls you into him for a hug. “Come on, lets go say hi to everyone.” You let out a laugh and you follow him back to where everyone is seated. A couple hours had passed and you had found yourself in Angel’s lap, his hand comfortably wrapped around your waist, occasionally running his hand over your thigh. “Querida, get me a beer, please?” You nod and offer to grab extras for the others and they obliged.

As the night wound down, Angel was noticeably too tipsy to drive his bike home so you offered to drive home and stupidly decided to let him stay at your place for the night. He got in the passenger seat and as you drove his hand had found its way to your thigh, gripping it tightly all the way home. When you got out of the car and approached your front door Angels hands had found their way to your hips and pressed himself against you as you unlocked the doors. “When we get inside, you gonna let me sleep in our bed right mama? Let me feel up on that ass all night right?” You turned your key in the lock and opened the door, Angel closely behind. Once you were inside, his hands found your waist and he pulled you into him so your back was against his chest.

“Tell me you don’t miss this mi dulce, tell me you don’t love how my hands feel on your skin, the way my lips feel..” he placed slow and soft kisses to your neck and for a moment you let your head fall back against him and your eyes flutter closed. Your breathing hitched and a small gasp escaped your lips as his hands slowly ran under your shirt and up your tummy.

Your voice was barely a whisper as you felt lost in his touch but knew you needed to stop this before it went any further. But damn. The way his hands felt and his voice in your ear, lit your entire body on fire.

“Angel....”

——————————————

@ifoundmyhappythought @starrynite7114 @briannab1234 @woahitslucyylu @wrcn9fvlcver @everyhowlmarksthedead @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @sesamepancakes @sadeyesgf @blackmissfrizzle @thickemadame

[elizabeethan]

The Days We Defend (Will Turn To Gold)- Chapter 7

Everything is perfect, until it isn’t. Killian and Emma have spent months building a life together after finally defeating Neal and Gold, but when the Dark One dies and his power becomes untethered, everyone in Storybrooke is at risk, and some decisions may have lasting consequences.

Sequel to Walk With Me (I Think We’ll Find A Way)

Prologue, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Read on Ao3

A/N: get ready for some smut my pals. Any predictions on what’s to come???

Thank you to my good pal @the-darkdragonfly for being an amazing beta!

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @laschatzi​ @emelizabeth88​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kday426​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything  @shireness-says​ @snowbellewells​ @hollyethecurious​ @ouatpost​ @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly​ @donteattheappleshook

“No need to feel threatened, Savior,” the old man says. “I am a friend to you and to your family.”

She steps away, closer to Killian, Corrine, and Henry, and says, “If you're a friend, then why don’t we know you?”

“A very good question indeed. You may not know me, but I assure you, I know you. Or at least, I know of you.”

The man begins walking down the path that leads to the street, away from Granny’s and towards their family, and Killian holds Corrine tighter and reaches for Emma’s hand. “Who the hell are you? What do you want?”

“Wait,” Henry says suddenly; apparently the pieces are falling into place in his mind. “I know who he is, mom.”

“I’m sure you do, young man. Go on and tell her what you know.”

Emma turns to her son and looks at him expectantly, obviously still confused about what the bloody hell is going on here, until Henry says, “he’s the Apprentice. We need his help to remove the Darkness.”

The bearded man chuckles as he finally reaches them, extending a hand to Henry’s and shaking it kindly. “Very good, son. You’ve a clever boy here, Emma.”

“I know…” she says suspiciously, as if still not trusting this stranger. “How are you supposed to remove the Darkness from Regina?”

“Why, with your help, of course.”

~~~~

Emma’s been through a lot in the past few hours.

Breaking a curse with True Love’s Kiss, when she struggled to say the words aloud mere weeks ago, was weighing on her.

Knowing her daughter had been cursed and living in a convent, cared for by several strangers for weeks, was weighing on her.

Seeing the lengths to which her son’s other parents would go in order to reduce the time she spends with him, simply because they were upset with her, was weighing on her.

The confirmation that her son’s father would continue to attempt to destroy her life and the lives of her loved ones, despite being stopped from doing so several months prior, was weighing on her.

And being told that her magic, which she’s barely begun to hone, was what was going to solve all of their problems and remove the Darkness for good was the icing on the metaphorical cake.

All things considered, Killian thinks she’s handling things rather well. Corrine is sitting happily in her lap, hugging her mother close as she used to do after Emma had a long day at work, and he can see the stress melting from her shoulders. He hears her say, “I’ve missed you, Coco,” to which their daughter responds with a giggle, and Killian thinks all is right in the world.

Until the old man opens his bloody mouth, of course.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, your majesties?” he says to Emma’s parents, and that makes her ears perk up.

“You know each other?” she asks, stiffening visibly in her chair.

Her parents are silent, turning to each other with looks of horror in their eyes before they look back at their daughter. Queen Snow has tears trailing down her cheeks as she bounces baby Oliver in her arms. “Mom?” Emma asks, her voice breaking and her grip on her daughter tightening before she looks up at Killian desperately. “What’s going on?”

He shakes his head unhelpfully, as if he were to have any information on why her parents suddenly became so mysterious. “Grandma, Grandpa, what’s he talking about?”

Upon being called by Henry, David shakes his head and turns back from his wife, then takes a seat across the table from Emma. Snow sits beside her husband, and Emma turns towards Killian, holding her hand out to him to request that he sit as well. Once he does, Snow and David take a deep inhale and begin to speak.

They tell Emma of a time before she was born, when they found out about their unborn child’s potential for great darkness. They tell her about how the Sorcerer's Apprentice was able to cast a spell in order to remove the potential for darkness from Emma. They tell her about how they did this at the expense of another.

Through their conversation, Emma is silent, holding onto Corrine for dear life until she wiggles away and fetches some of Oliver's toys to entertain herself, calling for her brother to play with her. When Killian chances a glance at Emma, the emerald in her eyes is shimmering through the tears threatening to fall, and he has to stop himself from wiping them away. But much to his surprise, she looks away from her parents with betrayal painted across her face and takes his hand again, squeezing it tightly as she sniffles.

“You… you did this… at the expense of someone else’s soul?” she curses out as a tear falls.

“Emma, we did what we thought we had to do to give you your best shot at goodness,” Snow tries to rationalize.

She holds his hand tighter. “All my life, no one has ever believed in me. I thought you were different, but you’re not!”

“No, no honey, it isn’t like that! We just wanted to do what we thought was best for you!”

“And you,” she says, turning in her seat and nearly dragging Killian to the ground as she goes. “You expect me to trust you enough to help us after what you did to me?”

The Apprentice nods somberly and says, “I understand your anger, Savior. But you must know, everything your parents did was by design.”

She scoffs, releasing Killian’s hand and standing as she shakes her head. “You may have removed my potential for darkness,” she says bitterly, “but you certainly didn’t remove darkness from my life. I still got screwed over more times than I can count. Endless abuse, horrible foster placements, Neal...” she trails off, then shakes her head again. Their faces sour at the reminder of their daughter’s turbulent past. “At least when I found you, I thought that everything you did was to protect me and to do what was best, so I could save everyone! Not so that you could save your own selves from having to deal with a monster of a daughter.”

“Emma—”

“Maybe you guys are the monsters here.”

“Emma!” Snow tries again, but she’s met with a raised hand silencing her.

“Killian, I'd like to go home. We can figure this all out tomorrow, but for now, I need to be with my family.”

He clears his throat awkwardly at her insulting snub, scratching behind his ear as he stands and barely making eye contact with Emma’s broken-hearted parents before calling Corrine. “Time to go home, love.”

Corrine stands, bounding over towards her parents happily, reaching her arms out to her father before even getting close. Killian picks her up, grunting as he stands, before she asks him, “monsters are here, duddy?”

Emma’s face goes white and her body stiffens before she puts her head down and turns towards the door.

~~~~

It takes hours for Henry and Corrine to settle down. Killian’s almost proud of his daughter for her resilience and her resistance to her obvious exhaustion as they sit on the couch watching movies in hopes of distracting from everything going wrong in their lives. Truthfully, they should be coming up with a plan to deal with the Dark One, but he, Emma, and their children need time to reconnect and cope with all that has happened today and during the curse. But despite Corrine’s pirate-like behaviors, he must admit that he’s quite exhausted himself, and wouldn't mind some time with Emma separate from his toddler daughter and teenage stepson.

He tries not to rationalize how their house magically became livable again once the curse was broken and instead revelled in the comfort he felt at finally being reunited with his family. With both children asleep on the couch, he plants a kiss to Emma's temple and feels her melt just a bit more into his touch despite Corrine taking up extensive real estate on her lap. “I missed you,” she whispers into the soft glow from the television set.

He chuckles lightly and says, “you didn't remember me,” jokingly. She shrugs, and before she could argue he says, “I missed you too, love. More than I can even put into words.”

“You didn’t remember me,” she flirts back, causing him to tense his arm around her shoulder. He sighs and presses his nose into her hair a bit as he considers how to break the news to her, the scent of her familiar shampoo finally back in his nose and comforting him.

“I did,” he tells her. “And I missed you every moment, even though you were still here.”

She stirs, trying to keep Corrine still on her lap as she snoozes away, and turns just slightly so that she can look at him more directly as his left arm slides down her shoulder. “You did? You mean you were awake all this time?”

“Aye,” he nods as he scratches behind his ear. “I was awake.”

Emma says nothing in response, pinching her brows close together and glancing back down at their daughter before she begins running her fingers through her ever-thickening curls. “Can we,” she whispers, “can we put them to bed? I want to… talk.”

He smiles softly at her ability to even consider opening up to him despite her hesitation to do so just a few weeks ago, and ponders how much one curse can change a person. Perhaps this has more to do with the people who cast it, he thinks. “‘Course, love. Let me wake Henry and we can meet in our room in a few moments?”

“No,” she says quickly, shaking her head and reaching her hand out towards his wrist. “We can do both together, it’s okay.”

He finds himself grinning at her openness and willingness to show vulnerability with him, though he curses the fact that it took a traumatic event to drive such behaviors. He knows this is probably a response to learning such horrid things about the people she loves, and while that’s concerning, he chooses to focus on the joy it brings him to feel so close to her.

Henry wakes easily, slowly tromping up the stairs behind Killian and Emma. He would have carried the lad if he was a bit smaller, but he’s growing like a weed into an all out teenager and Killian is getting old, though he’d never admit it. He brushes his teeth without being told by Emma to do so as she rocks Corrine gently in her antique wooden chair, holding her close to her heart and humming softly rather than reading a story. The lass is asleep already, comfortably snoring away in her mother’s embrace, but Killian suspects that Emma can’t put her down. He watches them from his place in the threshold, leaning against the archway of the door and smiling at the fact that his family is finally, finally back together and—

Well, they'll worry about safe tomorrow.

Henry clears his throat from behind Killian and he turns to look at the lad, noting his height and recalling just how mature he was during this curse. The time that past wasn't much, but Killian feels as though Emma’s son has aged endlessly. “Ready to turn in, lad?”

“Aye aye,” he responds with a cheeky grin that could rival his mother’s. Killian smiles at the boy and playfully elbows him, letting him know that he and Emma will be right in to say goodnight.

“And Henry,” he calls after him once he’s walking towards his door. He turns and cocks his head. “Thank you for your help, lad. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Henry rolls his eyes, though Killian catches the hint of a smirk as he turns back around. “You were right, you are more sappy in real life.”

Emma looks up at him with a confused smile, continuing her slow and gentle rocks before she finally stands and heads towards the crib. He walks towards his loves and wraps both arms around the two of them, Corrine sandwiched between her parents, and he presses a long kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. It’s hard for them to put her down, but she hardly stirs as Emma places her on the mattress and steps back.

He can tell that leaving her alone in her room is as hard for Emma as it is for him based on the way she curls into his hold once the babe is out of her arms, but they both come to a silent agreement that they must try and get their lives back on track after the horrors they've been through, and ensure that she sleeps soundly in her own bed despite how much they want to take her into their room. “Come, love,” he whispers against the top of her head, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. “I’m very much looking forward to sleeping in our bed again.”

She nods and squeezes her arms around his waist and sniffles, releasing herself from him and brushing her cheeks with her hands before she steps quickly out of Corrine’s room and down the hall towards Henry’s. By the time Killian catches up with her after ensuring that Corrine’s night light is working correctly and her door is propped open just right, he finds Emma sitting on the edge of Henry’s bed and encasing him in a tight hug. “I’ll talk to you about everything tomorrow, kid,” she promises. “Just try and get a good night's sleep, okay?”

Once they’re ready for bed, they crawl in together and Emma immediately curls up against him and presses her lips to his bare chest, just above the heart she returned to him last year.

Although, he would argue that she actually kept it.

“So,” she starts. “You were awake, huh?”

He nods and runs his hand up and down along her spine, feeling her shiver against him. “I was.”

“I’m sorry.”

“None of this is your fault, Emma. Please don’t—”

“I know,” she cuts him off, and he’s honestly surprised.

“You know?” he asks her hesitantly, stilling his hand in shock for a moment.

She nods against his skin, running her hand from his stomach, up his chest to his shoulder, then down his arm to his naked wrist, drawing a shiver from him. “I know what you're gonna say,” she tells him, picking up his arm and kissing the damaged flesh. He has to remind himself to not pull away from her; that he feels more comfortable with her than he ever has. “It isn’t my fault, I shouldn’t feel guilty for not taking that damn dagger, I can’t control what Neal and Regina do. I’m a mother above being the Savior.”

He hums. “Aye, that about sums it up,” he laughs lightly, picking up his movements along the dips between the bones of her spine.

“And I guess… I guess you're right. I need to stop putting so much pressure on myself over all of this. Things may have turned out better if I had taken the Darkness, but they may have turned out worse, too.”

He moves his head so that he can kiss the top of hers and nods again. “Too right, my love.”

“And all things considered, the curse completely sucked and was, like, pure evil, but no one was hurt.”

“Aye. Though I did swear to Henry last year that I wasn’t going to let Bae cast his curse and hurt anyone he loves.” She hums again, kissing against his chest.

“I guess now it’s my turn to tell you that this isn’t your fault. We couldn’t have predicted any of this. Who would’ve thought Regina could be capable of this?” He knows she’s saying this to try and convince herself. Of course Regina, the Evil Queen, would be capable of this, but he knows that Emma is trying to see the best in her and her attempts to change. “Anyway, it’s been hard for me to admit that and accept it, but I really am trying, I promise.”

“I know you are, darling. That’s all anyone can ask for.”

“Right,” she says, continuing on as if she feels she may stop if she doesn’t get it all out at once. “And I wanna tell you something now, while we’re not in danger, and we haven’t just broken a curse, and we didn’t just have mind numbing orgasms. When things are just… normal.”

“And what’s that, Swan?” he asks with a chuckle. She’s silent for just a moment before she props herself up onto her elbows above him, one arm on either side of his chest so she can look in his eyes. He gives her a soft nod of encouragement and she smiles softly, glancing down from his gaze.

“I love you,” she says once she meets his eyes again before her smile blooms into a wide, bright grin.

He breathes out a soft laugh before reaching his hand up to cup her cheek and pulling her close to him, touching their foreheads together then capturing her lips between his for a sultry kiss. It doesn't break as she collapses back down against him, her shirt a poor replacement for the feeling of her skin against his own. It hardly breaks at all when he mumbles, “I love you,” through their kiss.

It doesn't break when she pulls him towards her until they're rolling over, her back to the mattress and his arms enveloping her in a safe, warm hold. It only breaks for a moment when she reaches down to the hem of her— his— t-shirt and tugs it over her head, exposing her bare breasts to his gaze in a way he hasn’t realized he’d missed so much. He looks down at her chest, then back up into her eyes and kisses her once more on the mouth before trailing his lips down the column of her throat.

It’s been too long. Considering the fact that they had a toddler and often a teenager living under their roof, they had a fairly healthy sex-life before this curse, and he isn’t ashamed to admit that the past few weeks have been torture for more than one reason. He’s missed her in so many different ways, and the way that her body feels under his own is certainly high on that list.

He’s missed the way she whimpers when his mouth finds her hardened nipple and sucks on it gently, his fingers giving attention to the other. He’s missed the heaviness of her breast against his palm. He’s missed the scent of her skin as he drags his nose down her stomach. He’s missed the way she shivers when his fingers dance along the hem of her underwear, already nearly soaked through by her want for him. Her desire matches his own and he pushes his hips against the mattress.

“I love you,” he whispers hotly against the dampened fabric, and he’s missed the way she thrusts her hips enthusiastically towards his face, a heady sigh escaping her parted lips. “I’ve missed you so dearly, my love.”

She moans at the hot breath hitting her still covered flesh, and he’s missed the way she reaches down and curls her fingers into his hair when he’s in this position. “I love you,” she breathes, before commanding, “touch me.”

He presses his lips to her covered center and hums thoughtfully, causing her to throw her head back and moan in the most deliciously sinful way. “I’ll have you know,” he begins, and he wishes he had his hook in place so that he could drag the cool metal against her burning skin. He’d missed the way she mewls when he does that. “That I haven’t been with the woman I love in weeks, and I damn well intend to make this last.”

She groans when he drags a finger down her slit and smirks at her when it dampens through the cotton. “Make it last for you,” she insists. “No need to bring me into your sick torture fantasies.”

He laughs a bit too loud and notices her sitting up just slightly with a grin plastered across her face before he tugs her under garment down to expose her flesh, breaking the string of arousal with his tongue. That shuts her up quite effectively as she throws her head back and moans. “Fuck, god dammit, you are so hot,” she says.

He hums appreciatively once he gets the piece of clothing off her ankles and tosses it to the ground playfully, torturously lifting her knees up towards her chest and making as though he’s about to dive into her core as he so badly wants to. But instead of licking a thick strip through her folds like he normally would, he dips his head and slides up gracefully until he can kiss her mouth, careful not to make contact with her trembling heat.

“You're the worst,” she breathes out against his mouth, hardly even kissing him back as she pants and pushes her hips towards his for friction. “Would you please take your damn pants off? This is seriously unfair.”

He laughs lightly as he continues to peck kisses against her. “Quite demanding, aren't we?”

“I haven’t gotten any in weeks,” she rationalizes, and although he knows her tone was light, he can’t help the thoughts that suddenly spring into his mind. The memories that, during the curse, she and Bae were living together.

“Uh,” he says, suddenly overcome with a feeling he can’t quite put into words. He’s frozen, wanting desperately to continue touching her but also wondering if anyone else has. He knows it wouldn't change his feelings towards her, or his infinite desire to be with her, but it would certainly increase the likelihood that he puts Bae’s head through a wall. “I’m sorry,” he stutters out, lifting himself slightly off of her so that he can regroup.

“Woah, Killian, what just happened?” she sits up, forcing him off of her until he’s on his back to her right and she’s on her side. He notices her quickly squeezing her thighs together and the sight alone is just about enough to bring his head back where he wants it to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I just thought… for a second, I thought about—”

“Hey,” she says, taking his face in her hands once she gets herself up onto her knees. “Nothing happened, okay? I swear to you, nothing happened between me and Neal while we were cursed.”

He meets her eyes with his, surely looking pathetic as he sadly worries about her once again. He can hardly even revel at the fact that she knows exactly what he’s thinking. “Aye, love,” he says. He knew of course that she wouldn't want to be with Bae, but it’s difficult to control one's actions when one is placed under a Dark Curse.

“I love you, Killian,” she insists firmly, still holding his cheeks against her palms. “Even while we were cursed, I never wanted anything to do with him. I wanted you from the moment I… met you… I guess.”

He chuckles softly, leaning his face into her hand and kissing her right wrist. “I love you too, Swan. Sorry to bring the mood down.”

“It’s okay,” she says with a smirk, “I’m sure there are ways you could bring it back up.”

She giggles lightly at her own joke as he flips them so that she’s on her back again, then he’s kissing her fiercely as she runs her hands along the scars decorating his back. She moans when he squeezes her breast in his hand, and drags her feet up his thighs until she finds purchase on his rear, as if trying to slide his pants down with her feet. He loves how easily he can laugh with her while they're in bed together, and he bites her bottom lip when she finally gives up.

Killian decides that he isn’t satisfied with how he left things earlier, not even having a taste of what he’s been missing for so long, so he slides himself lower along her body, still stubbornly refusing to remove his sleeping trousers and drawing a frustrated but clearly aroused groan from her. “Touch me, god dammit,” she breathes out desperately.

“So demanding,” he chastises playfully, kissing her hot skin softly so that she bucks against him. “And so eager.”

“Someone has been torturing me for hours,” she nearly spits out, grabbing onto his hair again and attempting to push his head down against her.

He runs the tip of his tongue along her parting flesh, not quite reaching where she needs him, although it’s more than she’s gotten so far. “We’ve only been at this for about 15 minutes, my love,” he reminds her with a chuckle.

“Please,” she breathes, moaning when he finally dips his tongue in. He seems to have effectively cut her off based on the way her mouth hangs open and no sound comes out. He hums expectantly as if to ask her to go on with her thought, and that seems to send her into a state as she tosses her head to one side and cries out softly again. “I wanted,” she starts, barely able to get the words out as he licks her up and down, “I wanted to jump you the minute the curse broke.”

He laughs against her skin and she clamps her legs against his head, somehow tugging on his hair and pushing him down towards herself at the same time. He hums and nods in agreement, dragging his lips and tongue along as he does so.

She’s a wanton thing under him, panting and moaning with nearly each movement of his tongue and the suction of his lips against her pulsing clit. He’s missed this.

He has to hold his blunt arm against her lower belly once he finally dips his fingers into her, the first followed quickly by a second, because she can't seem to stop herself from bucking her hips against him for more friction. She continues to thrust into his hand and mouth and shortened wrist, the sounds coming from her far too loud and yet not loud enough for his desperate ears. When he finally feels her clamping hard against his fingers as they curl just so, he nearly loses himself inside his sleeping outfit at the sight of her breasts heaving with her pants and moans and soft curses of his name.

He lets her ride herself through it against his fingers, continuing to lave his tongue against her until she’s jumping at the touch against her sensitive flesh, before he slides back up her body, planting wet kisses along her stomach, chest and neck until he reaches her mouth. She kisses him back enthusiastically, if not exhaustively, and he nearly loses himself again at the knowledge that she enjoys the taste of herself on him as much as he does.

They continue to kiss each other passionately until it seems like she’s recovered enough to go again, wrapping her legs around his hips and probably ruining the trousers he still wears. Not that he minds one bit. “Love you,” he mumbles against her, and she nods in response.

“I want you inside me so bad,” she says darkly, her voice rumbling in her chest against his mouth. “I wanted you from the first time I saw you, even though I was cursed. I love you so damn much.”

“I want to be inside you,” he returns, and honestly, he thinks he may be outside of himself and looking on as he tugs his pants down and lines himself up to her, because this couldn't possibly be real. After such anguish in waiting to be back here, it feels surreal. “You have no idea how badly I wanted you, Swan. I just wanted to hold you and kiss you and fuck you.”

She moans against his mouth, insisting, “do it now, please,” in a soft whimper.

He does, growling at her fervor and nudging himself against her until she spreads her legs even wider in acceptance and he slides home. They both groan at the sensation of him filling her, and it’s as he feels her clenching herself around him that he finally finds the wherewithal to start moving. He thrusts gently at first, trying to keep it slow and torturous because he doesn't want this feeling to end, but as she moans in his ear and claws at his back intoxicatingly, he’s suddenly unable to control himself as he rocks against her faster and harder.  The sounds she makes are the fuel he needs to keep going, telling him that she needs it as hard and raw as he does. Telling him that they’ll get to that point of slow and steady and soothing soon enough, but for now, they need the rough-and-tumble to further confirm that this is real and that they’re back in each other’s arms.

He tilts his hips just slightly so that he thinks his pelvis is striking her clit in the way she likes it, and he kisses away the tear that escapes her left eye and whispers against her cheek, “so good for me, Swan. So tight and perfect, I love you so much.”

It’s reminiscent of the night they spent together just before the curse was cast, only this time she says, “I love you, Killian,” as she stares into his eyes.

The combination of the emotion he’s feeling and the fact that he’s been so close to her and yet unable to go near her catches up to him, and he has to put in far too much effort to ensure that she’s brought to that place of ecstasy before he spills himself into her. “Are you close?” he asks desperately, feeling like a teenager who finishes too quickly.

“So, so close, baby, please don’t stop,” she pleads. “Just like that, don’t stop.”

He uses his hand to grip her hip, tilting her up just a bit so that his angle is deeper, and at that he feels her fluttering and clenching her walls around him with a force that tells him she’s about to cascade towards the rapture that they've been chasing. The soft, high pitched cries barely escaping her throat give him the permission he needs to let go, and she’s falling with him as he wraps his arms around her and holds her as close to him as he can as they fade together into a blissful state of euphoria.

She’s wrapped her arms around him too, squeezing him as her orgasm ripples through her but letting go once her body goes limp, letting her elbows drop to the mattress and keeping her hands weakly on his sides. “Fuck,” she breathes out. “My god.”

He chuckles and kisses her cheek. “Killian will do,” he says with a smirk that he knows she can hear in his voice.

She smacks his rear playfully, eliciting a yelp from him in response to the sting, and then kisses his cheek tenderly.

“Can I get you some water, my dear?” she hums in response, nodding against his face and giving him one last squeeze before letting go.

“That would be very nice, thank you.”

When he returns, she’s cleaned herself up and curled under the blankets, but he’s pleased to see that she hasn’t bothered with getting dressed. He smirks at her as he hands over the glass after taking another swig from it, then removes his own boxers and crawls in next to her, placing a soft kiss on her temple once she lies back down. “That was pretty good,” she says playfully.

“The water or the sex?”

“Both, I guess,” she shrugs.

He hums out a laugh, equal parts entertained and exhausted, and wraps his arms around her so that her back is planted firmly against his front. “Should we talk about your parents?”

She snorts. “We’re both naked.”

“A fact that I very much appreciate,” he quips. “I just meant what happened earlier. It’s been quite a trying day for you and you learned something new about them.”

“Trying for all of us.” He hums. “I don't know, it sucked. I wish it never happened, but then I wonder what my life would be like if it hadn’t. Probably could've been a lot worse, I guess.”

“Aye, I suppose that’s possible.” She nods. “I’m sorry.”

Emma shakes her head, taking his forearms and pulling them tighter around herself. “It’s something I'll just have to deal with.”

“Right.”

“But you’ll be here, right? You’ll… I won’t bear it alone?”

In response to her repeating his own words back to him, he chuckles. Then, he nods against the back of her neck, placing a kiss there and grinning as he says, “precisely. Always.”

She pulls away a bit and he instantly misses the warmth of her skin against his and fears that she’s closing herself off, but instead she rolls over to hug him close and hitches one leg between his two, kissing his throat. “‘M tired.”

“Aye, love,” Killian agrees, running his hand along her back. “We’ll sort everything in the morning.”

She nods. “We've got to come up with a plan for dealing with Regina and Neal. They can’t get away with this.”

“We will,” he assures her in a whisper. “We won't let them.”

Just as he’s sure she’s faded under the blanket of sleep, she whispers, “love you,” into his skin, and he sleeps soundly.

[violetwolfraven]

Hey! I have a couple requests from the prompt thing but imma send them in separately. 46 for Sprace (the having to tell Jack about their relationship one) in canon era please? I love Jack as everyone's older brother it is literally the best thing ever. Maybe he realizes Race keeps going over to Brooklyn and then is super worried and overthinking what he's doing over there so they end up having to explain? Thank you!

Tentatively trying this cause I’m not sure if my writing senses are back yet so if it comes out shitty I apologize.

I’ve actually done this exact prompt twice already with 2 other angles! So here goes Jack finding out about sprace, take 3.

Tw: anxiety.

...

Jack wasn’t stupid, and though running a borough and a union wasn’t exactly easy, he wasn’t so busy that he didn’t notice when one of his kids went missing.

There was a reason Jack was never first in line at the distribution center, and it wasn’t (only) so that Weasel and the Delanceys were already good and annoyed, courtesy of his friends, by the time he got up there.

It was mostly because the extra time from being a few back in the line was good for taking a headcount, making sure everyone who’d left the Lodging House was still there before anyone left to go to their selling spots. Making sure the older boys that were assigned Littles to look after had those Littles with them. Checking for limps or coughs that he hadn’t had time to notice on the way out the door.

It was the same when he checked around every night, making sure everyone was in their beds and checking on anyone who’d seemed sad that day. It was taking care of his friends, because Jack was the oldest and God knew nobody else was taking care of them.

Hell, he called them friends, but they were really more like family. The only family he remembered besides a few vague memories of a mother who’d died when he was young and a father who’d never exactly been a good one. And some of them had been around longer than others, but...

The ones who’d been around the longest, who’d showed up around the same time, when Jack was 7 and they were 6 and 5, respectively, were Crutchie and Race. His brothers even more than the others were. His most trusted friends. His seconds who would one day take over Manhattan when he left.

Jack had been watching over them the longest, so of course he still paid special attention to those two, keeping them close and safe. Even if they could take care of themselves and there were others who objectively needed him more, of course Jack still noticed when they had bad days. He did know them better than practically anyone, after all.

So of course he noticed when one of them started acting weird.

Race always sold in Brooklyn. He had since they were like... 11 and 9, ever since he struck up that deal with a girl who let him sell at Sheepshead. And he always made so much that nobody could tell him to come back and sell in Manhattan.

He always came home right after selling hours ended. And even though Brooklyn was a rougher neighborhood, he always came home safe.

Which was why it was so weird how he turned 15 and a few months later he just suddenly stopped coming home right after selling time, barely making it back before dark, some nights.

And yeah, wanting to take some space and time away from home was a normal teenage thing to do, as far as Jack knew—he’d never gotten the option to do that, being in charge of keeping his kids alive since he was 14—but he was starting to worry that something was seriously wrong, with how Race came back flustered and clearly hiding something.

Then the strike happened, and...

Well, if Race came back late before, it was nothing compared to how he started coming home after dark, barely before midnight, or even staying in Brooklyn overnight, a couple times.

Jack was preoccupied with the rest of the borough, with Katherine as they got caught up in the euphoria of the action and then Sarah as he tried to rebound from getting dumped and then Davey as he finally figured out his own heart, but he still wasn’t so distracted that he didn’t notice one of his seconds staying out all night.

Race wouldn’t tell him why, no matter how much he tried to seem reassuring and supportive of whatever it was. It was like he didn’t trust Jack anymore.

And... and that was fair. Jack had let him down during the strike by making him feel abandoned and betrayed—making all his kids feel that way—but it had seemed to blow over with the others after he explained that he didn’t scab for the money, so why not with Race? What was different that would make him not trust Jack when the others did?

The fear kept creeping in that whatever it was was going to make Race switch boroughs. He was spending an awful lot of time in Brooklyn, and he was hiding something from Jack for practically the first time since they’d met.

Davey told him not to worry, told him it wasn’t as serious as that, but Jack knew Race better.

And plus, Crutchie was worried, too. He told Jack that one night on the fire escape, after they watched Race ‘sneak’ into the house late for the 5th time that month. That it was weird he was spending so much time in Brooklyn and wouldn’t tell either of them why.

What was equally weird was how Albert usually wasn’t considered trustworthy as a secret keeper and yet he wouldn’t tell this one of Race’s despite the fact that he clearly knew. That meant that Race really wanted it kept a secret. It was suspicious.

Which was why Jack was doing something he didn’t do that often; doing something after Davey specifically told him it was a bad idea and not to do it.

The thing was, when a kid who was essentially your little brother kept coming home late, acting distant, and wouldn’t tell you why, you had to take steps. Which was why Jack was following Race to Brooklyn today, from enough of a distance that he hadn’t noticed yet.

He was heading to Sheepshead like he always did, and as Jack watched him throughout the day, he was just selling like any other newsie and placing bets like... well, like Race.

It seemed like there was no reason why he would be staying out late, so why was he..?

By a few hours to the end of the day he’d sold most of his papers already, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that he was heading under the stands for a break, but...

It started to get suspicious after he’d stayed down there for 20 minutes.

Naturally, Jack’s anxieties popped up again, wondering what if he’s hurt and he’s hiding it what if he’s in trouble what if he’s talking to a Brooklyn kid about switching boroughs and he snuck down to where he knew Race usually hung out, staying quiet as he could and feeling stupid but still also feeling the need to go keep following.

Given that he trusted Race despite his insecurities, Jack wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find.

But whatever he was expecting, it definitely was not Race sitting against a stable wall, holding hands and trading lazy, carefree kisses with the King of Brooklyn like they didn’t care about the law or the summer heat or... anything.

It clearly wasn’t the first time and everything made sense now.

Neither of them noticed Jack was standing there, which was partially shocking and partially just... Jack didn’t know what. He had no idea what was going on right now and shock was all he was feeling.

He cleared his throat, “So...”

Race and Spot jumped, and one of them yelped as they shoved apart, getting to their feet.

“Jack?”

Race’s voice was an octave higher than usual. Spot had put himself between the two of them, which was... kind of odd to realize he was that protective, but good? Jack was still so confused.

But he knew Race looked scared, and as much as he was trying to hide it, so did Spot. He couldn’t have that.

“Whoa,” Jack put his hands up, “I ain’t tellin’ nobody. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, cause if ya did, I’d tell everybody ‘bout you and Mouth,” Spot shot back.

“Spot, back off,” Race muttered under his breath, and Jack tried to swallow his panic. He didn’t know how Spot had found out about him and Davey, but it didn’t seem like a good thing that he knew.

Yeah... he really should have listened when Davey told him not to follow Race.

But shockingly, it looked like Spot was backing off. Like he was relaxing under the touch of Race’s hand on his shoulder. That only made Jack feel a little better, but he guessed Spot did have a reason to be defensive. If Jack outed him, it would probably get him killed.

It was dangerous to be queer, period, and it was even more dangerous when you were running the bloodiest borough in New York. And that meant it was dangerous for Race, too, but...

This did explain why he’d been spending so much time over here.

The three of them had already been standing in silence way too long when Race sighed, moving in front of Spot and making eye contact with Jack.

“I’m almost 16, Jack,” he said firmly, “I can do what I want and I don’t care if ya don’t approve. So if you’s got a problem with—“

“No,” Jack said quickly, “No, I... can we head back to Manhattan? Talk on the way?”

Spot tensed up, and the look he and Race exchanged was clearly a question and reassurance. A ‘do you want me to fight for you?’ and ‘no, I can handle this.’

Jack knew those kinds of looks because he’d exchanged similar ones with Davey plenty of times, even before they got together officially.

It was weird to think that if Race had started staying out late because of this, that meant he’d had a fella longer than Jack had, but that was something to have a crisis over another day.

When he turned back to Jack, he nodded, squeezing Spot’s hand before walking over, leading the way back towards home.

They didn’t start talking until they were on the bridge.

“How long?”

Race shrugged, not meeting Jack’s eyes, “A couple months before the strike, we’s had a fight that ended in us makin’ out. So... dependin’ on how ya look at it, since then?”

“What do ya mean, ‘dependin’ on how ya look at it?’”

“Well, at first, it was just physical. Y’know, makin’ out and not talkin’ about it? Then we finally had a real talk right after the strike and got on the same page ‘bout what we wanted and now it’s... more than that.”

As weird as it was to think about, Jack could tell by his tone what he meant by ‘more than that.’

It hurt that Race hadn’t told him, and more that he and Spot were putting themselves in danger just by being together, but...

“You love him, don’t ya?” he asked slowly.

Race tensed up for a second, then stopped walking, leaning against the edge of the bridge and staring out at the water.

“What’d ya say if I did?”

Jack hated the traces of fear the younger boy was trying to hide. He never wanted to make one of his feel that way.

Sure, he didn’t like the idea of Race being in danger, or of anyone being in a position to hurt him, but he and Spot were... well, now that Jack was thinking about it, they made sense in an abstract kind of way. Race could destroy someone in a battle of wits as fast as Spot could in a physical fight. They were both tough and both leaders, though in different ways. Spot hadn’t joined the strike right away out of concern for Brooklyn’s kids. Race had helped start it out of concern for Manhattan’s.

Jack had to admit, even if no one could know about them, they were a hell of a power couple.

“He treats ya right, yeah?” he asked quietly, “And you’s bein’ careful—not gettin’ caught?”

Race nodded, “Yeah, of course. Hotshot knows—Brooklyn’s second—he covers for us if needed. And Spot’d never hurt me. Even when we was just friends, let alone now.”

“Albert knows, too, don’t he?”

“Uh...yeah. And Romeo figured out I was sweet on someone and wouldn’t leave me alone until I told him who it was, so he knows. And Kath walked in on us once.”

Aside from the fact that Jack could not believe Katherine didn’t tell him...

“Maybe you’s shouldn’t make out where people can walk in on ya.”

Race laughed, “That might be smart.”

He got serious again a little too quickly to be as fine as he was pretending be. Jack walking in on them before he was ready to tell had clearly shaken him.

Jack now felt pretty stupid for following him over here. He should‘ve listened to Davey.

“I thought you was thinkin’ about switchin’ boroughs.”

“What? No,” Race said quickly, a little too defensively, “Manhattan’s my home. My family. I wouldn’t just leave. I’m supposed to take over someday—with Crutchie, I mean. I’d never just abandon that.”

“I know,” Jack said, trying to reassure him, “I didn’t think it was you runnin’ from responsibility. I know you’re stronger than me, Racer. I thought... I thought it was cause... cause of me. Cause I let ya down in the strike.”

“Jack...”

He seemed to be struggling for words, but every second where he didn’t say anything made Jack feel worse.

“It was scary,” he admitted finally, “Yeah. I was runnin’ Manhattan alone all sudden-like and that was scary. I didn’t even have Crutchie, and Davey was tryin’ to help but he didn’t know what he was doing. It wasn’t like you always told me it’d be like when I ended up in command and I didn’t understand why—you always seemed like the one who’d stand by the rest of us no matter what. You promised you wouldn’t just leave with no warnin’.”

Jack felt terrible for that. He knew, firsthand, how hard it was having to take a command he never asked for with no warning. He’d had to take over the borough when he was 14, after his mentor died.

He’d never wanted that for Race or Crutchie. He’d always told himself that if he ever actually went to Santa Fe, he wouldn’t leave them hanging like that. He’d give them at least a couple weeks to prepare, ideally transition authority gradually so he could be sure they were ready and they’d be able to take care of the others.

Jack took a deep breath, “I’m so sorry, Racer.”

“There was about to be a ‘but.’”

“Oh. Okay. Go ahead.”

“But,” Race said, “Jack, yeah, you scared me, but... ya told me that night. You did it for Davey. Why’d ya think I actually got the others to help?”

“Cause you knew we needed to win the strike quick before we all starved?” Jack asked, “And Kath’s article was the best chance?”

He shook his head, “No. It was cause blood be damned, you’re my big brother. You’s been there protectin’ me and Crutchie and the others since we was Littles. I already wanted to believe ya had a good reason. I didn’t trust you a ton just then, but I wanted to. And once you explained... I got it. I get it. Cause I’d do the same thing for Spot if I had to.”

By implying that what he and Spot had was like what Jack and Davey had...

Race knew how hard it was for Jack to let down his guard. So he knew what a big deal it was that he did with Davey. He knew they had a connection even beyond the connection Jack had with any of the others.

Jack was glad he’d found that. Someone he could understand and connect with. Even if the idea of it kind of made him uncomfortable.

“I know Spot and me don’t always get along,” he admitted, “But I trust your judgement and I know you can take care of yourself, so... I’m happy for ya, Racer.”

Race smiled a little, “Thanks.”

“Plus,” Jack bumped him gently as they started walking again, “I saw the way he looks at ya. Most people would kill to have someone they love look at them like that.”

“You mean like how Davey looks at you?” Race asked cheekily, bumping him back.

Jack smiled, mostly to himself. Davey was going to enjoy saying ‘I told you so’ when Jack told him he was right that he shouldn’t have worried.

...wait. Davey had seemed 100% sure that Race was fine. And he knew how dumb the younger boy could be, so it was unlikely it was because he trusted Race’s judgement.

“Wait, does Davey know?”

“Uh...” Race laughed awkwardly, “He mighta caught me sneakin’ back into the Lodgin’ House a couple weeks ago. And he gave me that look—y’know the one—where he looks all disappointed? He asked where I was and I panicked and said I was with Spot, so... I didn’t exactly tell him, but he probably guessed?”

“Yeah, cause he ain’t a dumbass.”

It was a little surprising that he hadn’t told Jack even if it was just a guess, but...

“I asked him not to tell ya,” Race admitted, “Or Crutchie. Cause I didn’t know how you’d react. That probably... also clued him in.”

“Oh, Crutchie’s gonna wanna scare the shit out of Spottie boy when he finds out.”

Race laughed kind of nervously, the smile fading from his face pretty quick.

“I ain’t gonna tell him if you don’t want me to,” Jack added quickly, “And he’ll be fine with it when he does find out. He knows you’s can take care of yourself, same as me. He’ll still wanna give Spot a shovel talk, though. Matter of fact, so do I.”

“Well, I knows Spot can handle a shovel talk.”

He was still hesitating, and Jack was tempted to ask what he was so afraid to say.

They were almost back to the Lodging House by the time he did.

“You’s really okay with this?” he asked, “Me and Spot? You ain’t gonna freak out?”

Jack threw an arm around his little brother, “Race, long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

[theninjamouse]

Ocean on Fire Phantom of the Opera AU Master List (To be added to as I see fit)

Strap in, this is gonna get long. Big thanks to @thaylepo for indulging me and sending many brilliant ideas. 

This is a basic rundown and ideas that would happen at some point in the story. Obviously some things could change or be added but I’ve just got to get this down before I go nuts

Shore and Grillby were childhood friends.

Shore is the child of a wealthy business man, taught from childhood that the arts are to be treasured and appreciated

However, while she may learn instruments and dance and music, she is to take over the family business, not run away to star in the opera like she wants

Grillby's father (he has parents in this au) was a famous violinist who often was called by Shore's father to perform for parties. He wound up teaching Shore fundamentals of music

Little Grillby was a shy flame. Always trailed along behind his father, clutching his tailcoats

Shore saw the tiny elemental and decided instantly: I'm going to be his BEST FRIEND

Queue stuttering, hesitant Grillby being dragged around the manor, getting into all sorts of trouble and adventures. He's a lot more hardy than Shore is, so he rather often found himself acting as a sort of guard dog. He was utterly distraught when Shore fell and broke her arm. Shore teased him about crying because she couldn’t stand to see him so upset

They also learn music together from Grillby's father. First time Shore hears Grillby sing, she grabs his face and screams with delight until the poor little guy is fully bright blue with blushing

Then Grillby's father dies. A family friend takes Grillby away to one of the opera houses to work. Grillby and Shore are 13 and 10 at this point and have spent the last 6 years together. Shore makes Grillby promise to keep singing, to keep the spark of his father alive through music. He promises

They both wait until they are out of sight of the other to cry

Grillby cries every night for the first 3 months in the opera house. As a monster, he is bullied by many of the other students. He mourns his father's passing and he misses Shore to a near unbearable level. The only comfort he has is when he sings quietly to himself in those few moments when he is alone doing his chores

Then he hears a voice, a soft and gentle voice that asks him why such a bright flame weeps. He runs away in fear and hides in his bed

But the voice asks him again and again. 'Why does such a bright flame weep?' Slowly, over the course of a year, Grillby tells the voice his story

The voice says he is the Phantom of the opera house. Grillby thinks he sounds rather young to be a Phantom

The Phantom replies that Grillby is rather young to have such a lovely voice. He offers to teach Grillby. The fire monster agrees upon hearing the Phantom's beautiful and haunting voice

After all, he did promise

15 years pass. Shore has taken over her family business and is finally able to offer herself as a patron to an opera house that has shown remarkable growth over the years, becoming well known in the arts circles

Partially thanks to the star of the show, a humanoid robot named Mettaton. Most of the monsters we know work the show behind the scenes, so having a monster in the lead is a new leap in gaining treatment that is more fair for monster kind as performers

But Mettaton is also a diva. The day Shore arrives with new managers, he throws his tantrum and quits after a rather suspicious accident.

Shore only has eyes for the fire elemental standing frozen with the rest of the crew. She suggests letting him take the lead role. Promising that she knows he can sing.

Grillby is so quiet most assumed he couldn't even talk so naturally protests break out and Shore maybe uses her power as a patron to insist. 'He promised me,' is all she says, looking right at him

So he sings and everyone is stunned at the strength and grace of his voice. The managers instantly whisk him away to prepare for the show

After the show, Shore goes to his new dressing room and they fall into each other's arms. They speak of times past, of the loneliness of being apart. But when Shore says that she wants to take him out to celebrate, he hesitates. The Phantom will not be happy if he leaves, he knows this

But he agrees and she leaves to let him change

Enter in The Phantom. Showing himself for the first time, a figure in black wearing a simple white mask over his face. White hands punched through the palms. Grillby is enchanted, dazed and follows The Phantom into the tunnels under the opera house

*Music of the Night noises*

Grillby has a bit of a Crisis because he genuinely cares about Phantom and they became very close friends as much as teacher and student but this is kind of odd?? A little frightening?

Phantom sees this, backpedals real hard but hides it and sends Grillby back upstairs before falling into bed and screaming into his pillow

When Shore finds Grillby vaguely wandering back into the theater, she goes, uh??? What happened?? Were you kidnapped? I kind of stayed up all night looking for you??

Grillby, still a little in shock because what the heck just happened "Kind of?"

Now that won't STAND

Shore starts digging to find out everything she can about this opera ghost, keeping a close eye on Grillby. There is no gaslighting here folks like in versions of the story that to this day drive me crazy

As Shore digs, accidents start happening. Loose floorboards, unlatched equipment, a falling sandbag or two. Shore catches on pretty quickly what’s happening when she catches just a flash of shadow more than once right before or after these little ‘incidents’ 

Finally plants herself down in the middle of the stage and calls for the Phantom to show his face. It takes a while then she sees a shadow just barely move. He’s up in the rafters, crouched like some kind of bat

“What is your freaking deal?” 

“Why are you trying to take what’s mine?” 

“Yours? He belongs to himself you dingbat”

That makes him laugh for reasons Shore doesn’t get

Conversation happens, a lot of dodging questions, shifting blame. Phantom is oddly charming. For being an attempted murdering/kidnapping jerk

“Are you the one who keeps trying to kill me? The sandbag dropped on my head, the broken trapdoor, the spiders in my hat??”

“Oh my God, I’m not responsible for every little thing that goes wrong in this place. It’s an old building, accidents do happen. 

“The sandbag was me though.”

Grillby materializes just to smack him in the head for that

And so it goes, Grillby and Shore trying to reconnect, Grillby trying to maintain a level of friendship (and maybe more?) with Phantom and Phantom attempting various levels of accidents to get Shore to leave the theater

Until one day he finds Shore on the stage. She’s singing to an empty theater. She’s not...good exactly but...rather unpracticed. He’s startled enough that he stops his evil giggling and untwisting of the hidden trapdoor in the stage to listen. 

He comes up silently, creeping on the edges just out of sight. When he speaks, Shore shrieks and nearly falls off the stage anyway. Her blushing does a weird thing to his Soul. Like a sort of flip flopping squeeze. 

“Well, if you’re going to think yourself worthy of my Flame, you’d better have a voice to match. Let me hear you sing again.”  

Many ‘threat’ filled lessons later-

“Hmm. Maybe there’s hope for you after all” 

“Maybe there’s more to you than a creepy stalker personality.” 

Past the Point of No Return scene happens at some point. I don’t make the rules

Also Phantom and Shore have a sword fight that maybe starts out as anger fueled but rather quickly changes to a pent up Feelings kind of deal

Grillby’s concern is quick to fade and he watches the two idiots dance around each other, wondering why exactly they don’t see how much they actually do like each other. 

It’s also at this moment he realizes fully that he loves them both

“Well shoot, I love these two morons and they love each other but won’t admit it. This is going to be very ‘fun’ to sort out”

Eventually, Shore asks for Phantom’s name. 

“My name...died with the person I was long ago.” 

“Maybe it’s time you reclaim it.” 

His name is Wing Dings Gaster and for countless years he was held by the Void. He doesn’t fully remember how he escaped, nor what he looked like before. All he knows is that his face is broken with terrible cracks and skeletal in only the vaguest sense with a body that ebbs and flows with darkness. When he first stumbled back into the light after the darkness of the Void, people screamed and ran from him. Or worse, they chased him, calling him an omen of death. So he retreated down below the theater and resigned himself to always be a watcher and made a mask to cover his face. 

He was alone for years until he heard young Grillby crying in a corner and sat as close as he dared. It took a while for him to gain the courage to speak to the elemental

Given the fluid nature of his body, it’s easy for him to change his voice to sing. It’s the only part of himself that he can see as holding any worth. 

Grillby was his only source of socialization and he’s terrified of losing him, which makes Phantom a tad bit clingy with some pretty severe separation anxiety 

Phantom is a sad, sad boy who needs a lot of hugs and therapy

Shore is kind to him despite it all (and despite the irritation at the ‘death threats’) 

Phantom finally admits that she was never in any actual danger because he might be a messed up guy but he’s not a murderer. He might have even nudged her out of the way with blue magic a few times to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

Eventually Phantom realizes he no longer wants her to leave. He wants to stand with her and Grillby. He wants to be a better monster but he doesn’t know how to do that so kind of retreats into his lair 

Grillby and Shore have to track him down. And queue the heart to heart, the great Crying Session, the Unmasking or whatever you wanna call it

And they all live an OT3 happy ending, the end

[tailorvizsla]

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship - Chapter 1

Title: The Armorer and an Introduction Word Count: ~2350 Pairing: Paz x Reader Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Cursing, canon-typical violence, crack humor that’s also serious Summary: 

Mandalorian courtship is very simple: declare your interest in someone, spend time together if they reciprocate, and get married after a year or so. Getting married is even easier – simply swap the vows and announce it a few days later to the Tribe so you can all celebrate the happy news. Then spend the next few months fending off the nosy Elders (who all want to know when they can expect to hear more little feet on the ground). At the end of it all, Mandalorians court the same way the rest of the galaxy does.

Except for Paz Vizla. Despite his Traditionalist background, he goes about this courtship and marriage business in a very nontraditional way...a very, very, very nontraditional way. This can also be found at AO3. Chapters: 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

📚 My Master List 📚 Author’s Notes:

This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter story in a very long time. 

I’ve been working on this since February. It’s been finished for a few weeks now, but I’ve been procrastinating in posting because I have had such a hard time justifying why Paz behaves the way he does even though we only see him for like 3 seconds in the series. I’m not sure if anyone else does this, but I like having a reason to write a story, even if it’s just to get the fluff out. For this, I wanted to flesh out Paz’s character for future works, but I have had such a hard time figuring out the words for it that I just...didn’t post. It felt wrong to continue forward without being able to explain to myself why he does what he does. Something that @plexflexico said in one of their responses to a review I left resonated with me and finally inspired me to post this publicly.

“Paz might have had less than a minute of screen time, but that time was VERY enlightening because both scenes were at moments of great tension and high emotion. I felt that any man who could succinctly put his people’s plight into words, and was so angry over this betrayal by someone who should have known better that there was no way this was simply a brute. This is a man who thinks and feels, deeply.”

This. This is exactly what I couldn’t find the words for. This, to me, is Paz Vizla. I have seen stories/HCs that portray him as a brute in an attempt to show him as a strong, confident, and masculine character. I am not fond of that portrayal because it lacks depth. I don't see that from a man whose culture embraces competency and skill before gender or sex. For those of you who have not read Asterism, go do it now, I promise you will love every single word. @plexflexico perfectly captures every emotion and thought of each scene just perfectly. This is Grade Amazing Super Plus Rank writing and Plex deserves an award for their work. And also for the inspiration because her Paz is the man everyone who wants a man deserves to have in their life.

The Foundry is the most sacred place for any Tribe blessed enough to have one of its own. It is the physical manifestation of the Resol'nare: education and armor, self-defense, the tribe, the language, and the leader. Here, children and new recruits receive their first set of beskar'gam and swear their oaths to follow the path, making the Foundry the spiritual birthplace of every member of the Tribe.

At night, when the work is finished, and the flames are dimmed, the young and old gather within so they may learn from and educate one another. Most importantly, this is where most individuals begin their first lessons in Mando'a, under the guidance of the Elders. The foundry is where the armaments are made and dispensed for the protection of each person and the Tribe as a whole. When a hunter returns with their offerings, they return to the Foundry, and disperse it to those who depend upon them for sustenance and care. Finally, the Foundry serves as a place for the leadership to gather.

Armorer has had the distinct honor and privilege of being both armorer and leader to her people for many years, though she is now only the armorer for the tribe. Upon joining with tribe Marell, she relinquished her role as the Alor. However, the respect and authority she commands is not diminished in any capacity. Should Alor Dezha not be available to decide on a course of action, the Tribe will come to her, and her decision will be both supported and respected. Dezha respects her a great deal, and he will often seek her opinion if his path is unclear. Despite the differences in their interpretations of the Oath, they have come to live in harmony with one another. They strengthen what is weak in each other, and that is how it should be in a flourishing Tribe.

Tonight, she once more has the honor of being part of a marriage ceremony. Lifting her heavy hammer, Armorer brings it down onto the glowing ingot of metal, watching as it flattens and spreads under her blow. She continues to strike the metal with slow, methodical precision until it reaches the proper thickness. Then the Armorer takes it back to the flame, where she allows it to glow blazing white. It only takes a few moments, and she returns it to the anvil. The steady clang clang of her hammer is punctuated only by the occasional trip to the flames.

The union of two Mandalorians in marriage is – and always has been – a joyous occasion, for that union brings forth stability for the children and the Tribe. Traditionally, the parents take turns hunting, or if the Tribe has the numbers, both parents will hunt together, and leave their children in the care of the rest of the family. Having that one trusted person, the one who knows their every strength and weakness by their side, leads to success, both in the field and at home.

She pauses once more to check the ingot. When she sees it is properly folded, she divides it in half, and begins to form each blade precisely with her smaller hammer. Two Mandalorians, forged into one soul and body by marriage, whether they are together, or they are apart. Two blades, made from a single piece of steel, to symbolize that union. When they are formed to her satisfaction, she takes the blades to the oil vat and quenches them, a satisfying hiss escaping the bubbling liquid.

Then she returns to the forge, narrowing one of the flames to begin the differential tempering process. Here, the tang and the edges of the blades will be hardened to resist shattering, yet the spines will remain flexible, so that they may flex as needed. Once joined, the couple hardens themselves to outsiders; instead, they will turn their affection and respect inward, so they may grow together. Where one is brittle, the other is flexible, and together, they become stronger than they would be individually. She withdraws the first blade from the flame just as the pale amber color creeps to the edges of the blade and plunges it directly into the water bath to cool.

It takes hours to sharpen the ceremonial blades on the grinding belts, but she works steadily and carefully, honing the edges with precision. The hilts are left bare; they will be wrapped by the parties entering the marriage. When they speak their vows, they will exchange blades, so they may carry a piece of the other with them when they are physically parted. She nestles the blades into separate boxes lined with soft fabric. When she delivers the blades tonight, the newlyweds will handle the rest on their own. Armorer lowers the heat of the flame before she returns to her quarters. There she draws the curtain across her living space. Exhaling, she takes a seat at her low table with a pot of hot tea to await being summoned by the Elders to acknowledge the vows. Her shoulders are tense and tight. It is a good sign of hard work.

It has been many years since she has witnessed a proper Mandalorian courtship unfold and blossom into marriage. The Armorer has known from the start that Paz would be the one to fully embrace the traditional ways. Now, he has chosen to make himself an example to the younger Mandalorians and enter the bonds of matrimony. Her heart swells with pride as she imagines the future progeny they will gift to the Tribe, whether they are born or found. However, she takes the time to close her eyes and pray to the spirits. The newlyweds will need guidance.

Hopefully, the wedding night will not result in nearly as much structural damage as the courtship had.

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The first time Paz ever laid eyes upon you was shortly after the Armorer had finished negotiations to join with yours. It took nearly three weeks of negotiations, but your Tribe had ultimately yielded. No sane alor would turn away a dozen Hunters and their children, anyway. Paz admits that he did not find you all that impressive at first. You were – and still are - pretty average. Your armor at the time consisted of a bes’kar helmet and a steel chestplate that looked like the Armorer’s. Everything else was made of leather.

Tradesperson, he thought to himself, and he put you out of his mind.

As time went on, Paz came to like you, and even enjoy spending a few minutes with you here and there as his duties allowed. Even though you openly admitted that were an average warrior (at best), you did your job freakishly well. You had made your desire for a large family vocal, and that, combined with your skills, had caught the attention of several Hunters visiting to deliver the latest news. According to the Elders, the offers of marriage had come flooding in the instant you completed your first hunt, even though you hadn’t completed it until your twenty-third birthday.

When the average Mandalorian completed their first hunt by their nineteenth.

And Paz completed his on his seventeenth.

It didn’t take long for him to understand how you earned the loving-yet-frighteningly-accurate nickname shu’shika from the Tribe – you truly are a tiny disaster. You are dearly loved by your Tribe, but there is a tendency for things to break while you are around.

You are stubborn to a fault. That Paz can deal with. Over the past thirty or so years, he has had plenty of practice to out-stubborn his subordinates, and he always wins. The same holds true with his bounties. With you? There have been a few situations where he has come dangerously close to cracking and losing his temper. It is only your terrible self-defense skills and his affection for you that keep him from simply putting you in a headlock until you submit.

Paz sometimes wonders if you provoke him on purpose because you know he will not throw fists with someone who lacks proper training. He takes no pleasure in winning a fight if it was never a true fight to begin with.

Far too often, you get mouthy with him, to the point where he sometimes wants to grab you around the waist and launch you straight into the lake for being such a brat. You are never truly disrespectful, but you have no problem telling him what you think. Even when he does not ask for your opinion. He does, however, appreciate your honesty with him, since others are usually too intimidated by him to be as direct as you.

You’re kriffing fearless, to the point of recklessness. His threats to launch you into the lake have gone from true threats to playful teasing, and it always earns a laugh from you.

Your forgetfulness…it is truly obnoxious. At this point, he has stopped reminding you to pick up your shit. He has grown used to simply picking up your things off the floor (or the couch, or the tables, or the showers), stuffing them in a bag, and dumping it all on your table in the workshop. Just like everyone else in the Tribe does for you. Or, if he wants to see you, he will pocket your datapad until you come wandering into the common areas, and hand it over without a word. It never ceases to amaze you that Paz somehow seems to know exactly what you are looking for.

Paz has no doubts that if you ever set your bucket down, you will lose it. He kind of finds it endearing. But only from you. He has no problems holding armor, weapons, or personal property for ransom if some idiot leaves it unattended.

If there is even a single power cable in a wide-open room, you will invariably find it and trip over it. Stairs have to be clearly marked with vibrant tape to remind you of their existence even though they’ve been there for ten kriffing years. Your navigational skills are nonexistent. It is all Paz can do to refrain from simply attaching a tracker to your backside to keep you from getting lost whenever someone takes you to the market.

The first time he had taken you to the market, he lost you within forty-eight seconds. He panicked the entire time he looked for you. Fortunately, he found you trying to dig enough money out of your bag to buy some ice cream, with no regards as to how you were going to eat the kriffing ice cream with a damn bucket on your head.

Sometimes, Paz feels like his relationship with you is going to give him a full head of grey hair before his fiftieth birthday. But he thinks you are the most beautiful disaster he has ever seen in his life.

You get his dumb jokes and laugh at his silly puns. You let him steal the end pieces of the bread when you bake. You try so damn hard to improve your hand-to-hand combat skills, even when Doctor Shen threatens to tie you to a bed to keep you from hurting yourself. You turn to him first when you want to learn a new technique. You play hunters-and-prey with the children for hours, like you don’t care that the others are grumbling about you spoiling the kids. You listen to him ramble about whatever random topic he has picked up that week, and while you may not know anything about it, you ask questions and take the time to learn more about what makes him happy. You even offer to share your tiingilar with him, even when you only have a quarter ration of it.

He has spent most of his forty-four years alone in life. His eight-year relationship had ended exactly ten years ago when his partner chose to commit adultery. He was on the verge of proposing marriage when he caught them in his bed. Neither had been wearing their helmet. It was a privilege his partner had never granted him, even after nearly a decade together. After that gut-wrenching betrayal, something had shattered in him. Paz invested himself in his work fervently, his bitterness turning him away from the possibility of a long-term relationship. Now that he is older and wiser, he feels a sort of emptiness to his days. Like his successes mean nothing without having someone to share them with. He wants someone there to encourage and support him in his hunts. Someone who is not as cynical and burnt out from the constant threat of death and war. Someone who still has that shereshoya – that Mandalorian lust for each new day and every experience that it brings. That brightness in your soul draws him to you like a moth to the flame. It is your hidden gentility that has him so happily trapped in your orbit.

He wants to make you strong where you are weak.

He wants you to make him strong where he is weak.

Seeing you waiting for him at the shooting range brings a spring to his step. Hearing your laughter at one of his awful jokes makes him glad he wears a helmet so no one can see the ridiculous grin on his face. Smelling the sweet, flowery soap that you use makes his knees go all wobbly, though he’s not sure if it’s from affection or just from age. Just feeling your hand brush up against his makes him turn into a sweaty, flushed mess.

Paz Vizla feels like he’s strapped to the wing of a TIE fighter spinning out of control as it plummets to the ground below, or something like a fully-grown rath’tar has wrapped itself around his heart to squeeze. His belly is jam-packed with spice-crazed minochs and his heart is pounding wildly. When he thinks about kissing you one day, maybe just gently pressing his helmet against yours, his heart gets so full he can barely breathe.

You make him Feel Things he has never felt before.

Paz Vizla turns into a hot kriffing mess under his armor when he is around you, and he wants off this malfunctioning jetpack.

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Feel free to leave comments, concerns, or critiques. I love all sorts of feedback <3

[uservillanelle]

Killing Eve ― 3x01 (Review)

I didn’t rush to write this review right after the episode, as I sometimes need to rewatch the episode several times to actually appreciate it and spot a thing or two. I know, everybody’s writing these, their thoughts, so I’m sorry if some of them will be repetitive, but I do want to get my thoughts out! Soo shall we get to it?

Dasha

What is interesting to me is that they chose this flashback of Dasha being a gymnast in her early age as the very first scene of the episode. And let’s not forget, it is the first scene of the entire season, meaning it has to be very important one. I don’t think they brought her in just to play Villanelle’s next handler. She was her mentor before, which makes it a lot more personal to both of them. There’s more to her, I’m sure. So far I’m loving the dynamic between her and Villanelle. There’s this... old-friends reunited kind of vibe, but then again, they can be laughing one moment and trying to choke each other to death the next. In this aspect they are very similar. 

That brings me to Dasha’s killing style. It is unique, something we haven’t seen in the show before. It can only mean competition to Villanelle. And she’s so confident that her work is better than Dasha’s. Not only does she say it to Dasha, but later on copy her style during the spice kill ― which, by the way, I think is very underrated. 

Villanelle had to ask Dasha about her part of the deal, twice. Then she brought up the possibility of going back home ― back to Russia. It might be true, but I don’t think that’s everything she was promised. And it’s one more reason for us to keep watching to find out, hm?

The Wedding

All I can say about the wedding is ― WOW. I was looking forward to it and it didn’t disappoint. Actually, it’s the best part of the episode for me. Many people have said that it was ‘waste of potential’; ‘they only did it to set up a meeting with Dasha’; but really. I don’t think we would’ve gotten the Villanelle wedding in any other circumstance. Like, think about it. A wedding is not something Villanelle would normally do, right? She doesn’t care about such things, yet in this case she does it. Yes, she LOVES a good show and attention as well as being rich and have everything she ever wanted including having the power and control of it all. And since she’s getting over Eve, why not find another woman and marry her to prove to everyone and to herself, that she is totally over the Asian woman with amazing hair? She’s extra like that and I love it. And don’t get me started on the tuxedo blazer AND black tulle ruffle top. She wore THAT for her own wedding. Just thinking about it makes me want to go feral. 

Mooving on, the irony of Villanelle not only bringing up Eve during her wedding speech, but saying she is ‘so much happier now she’s dead’ while immedially afterwards glancing around the place almost as if she’s expecting to see Eve. She hopes she’s there... and it makes me wonder, what if Eve actually was there? What if she somehow made it to Villanelle’s wedding and just... can you imagine? What their interaction would look like? Plus having MARIA there the entire time and the guests? Damn. 

Then there’s casual Villanelle simply enjoying her wedding cake, because why the hell not? And on top of that ignoring her new wife during the dance. I mean... this is SUCH Villanelle thing to do. She couldn’t care any less. Then again we are reminded of how awkward/uncomfortable she could get around people when she’s being.. more or less herself. I haven’t seen her like that for a hot minute. She has always been brilliant in slipping into other groups of people, pretending to be a part of a conversation, it never really was an issue for her. Yet this time she’s not really pretending to be someone else. She is Villanelle and yes, she is awkward. I love that we got to see that bit. 

And of course... it wouldn’t be Villanelle’s wedding if there wasn’t a fight involved. Why not start a fight herself? It’s exactly what she did and having Dasha show up only highlighted the wedding scene even more. It wasn’t all about Dasha being there, it was about Villanelle trying to prove to herself that she’s finally moving on and I, personaly, needed that. It’s a shame the wedding scene ended so quickly, I mean we could’ve gotten a kiss or two, since it’s a damn wedding! Though I’m still really glad we got to see it. We actually got to steal a glance at Villanelle’s wedding. That sounds so surreal on itself. Are we sure they didn’t take this from any of the fanfics? 

Carolyn

(warning: possible spoilers/predictions ahead)

She’s still a very shady lady. Carolyn must be the most mysterious character on the show, based on how little we know about her, her work and her family. I’m glad that someone is finally confronting her about the previous operation in Rome. What’s even better ― Hugo sued MI6 and he has EVERY right to do so. The entire mission was a blood bath and someone has to answer for it. Yet, despite given circumstances, Carolyn remains completely still during all the accusations she has received and even refuses to apologize during her conversation with Kenny. None of the previous events that took place seem to be valuable and important enough for her. And that makes me wonder.. that maybe the Twelve ordered Kenny’s death to stop any further unofficial investigations AND to punish Carolyn, because Kenny’s all she has, right?

Well, now they will be bringing up Carolyns daughter ― Geraldine. Up to this point we knew that Kenny was Carolyn’s only child, but since he’s gone now, there has to be someone else related to Carolyn and we got Geraldine. From what we know now, they do not have a great relationship which makes me even more excited to see them interacting. 

Since the Twelve put a hit on Kenny... I’m starting to think that maybe Carolyn is next on their list, and possibly Konstantin. In S3 trailer we got a quick shot of Carolyn in a car with a driver. And there’s Villanelle, pretending to be a police officer, chasing someone down. If I’m correct, Villanelle will come after Carolyn and will try to assassinate her. Now why would Villanelle try to kill Carolyn? Either she will find out something related to Eve and Carolyn being involved, maybe wanting to take revenge? It’s not very likely is it? But the Twelve deiciding to take out Carolyn, and Villanelle doing the job sounds more like it. At least to me.

Eve

First off... the scene in the store is not only the first scene of Eve we see in this episode, but it shows exactly where she is right now. Where her mind is, how she’s dealing with everything around her. Cearly, she’s done with everything, running on auto-pilot for the most part of it. She’s one huge mood. Eve really must be the most relatable character for us as viewers. If something like this happened to us... we would basically be Eve. 

It’s been 6 months and that’s the Eve we see. She’s struggling. And she should be. She almost died and now everything seems to be reminding her of Villanelle. The song in the store, the cashier’s talking about spaghtetti and Rome?! Then the other cooks at the restaurant talking about one of their’s crush and how it started with infatuation and now it’s love. Everything about it screams Villanelle. We know it. Eve knows it. And most importantly... the SCAR itself. No matter where she goes, what she does... she won’t be able to erase Villanelle. She has been scarred for life and so was Villanelle and guys... that is just so brilliant. They are meant for one another and that’s a fact. Either they will end up together (hopefully) and somehow manage to create some kind of future together or they will die together. Either way.. they can’t hide from one another and that makes their next meeting so... so special and important and intense and all of the other things. I simply cannot wait.

Knowing how the episode ended, I didn’t think I’d appreciate Eve and Kenny’s scene together so much. It’s so deep and sincere and reveals a lot about what happened and where they are separately and together. I’m glad their first and last interaction this season was a light, positive one. They even talked about getting beers at the office during weekends. And knowing that.. Kenny was basically the only person who understood Eve and where she’s coming from, his death is exactly what can and WILL push Eve forward in investigating the Twelve and eventually reuniting with Villanelle. Back to S1, when Bill was killed, Eve was so determined to catch Villanelle and ‘kill her with her bare hands’ that no one seemed to be able to stop her. So this time... will be similar to it, if not even greater. 

Villanelle

Soo... Oksana wants to be a Keeper. Oksana the Keeper! It actually makes sense to some extent, that she will eventually want to get a ‘higher’ position in the industry and why not be the Keeper then. She has always wanted power and control and Keepers have that. They hold valuable information about the organisation that no one else knows. It’s a very important and dangerous position too. I can see why she’d want to be a Keeper, and not only that... she is still curious about who is in charge. How the whole system works. Though, at the same time.. knowing Villanelle, this might get tricky. She’s still very childish and impulsive and all other things.. she still needs to be handled by someone. That’s why I’m a bit concerned that if she ends up becoming a Keeper or having to handle other assassins (which she will, in next episode), things will go terribly wrong. I hope I’m wrong about this, because god, do I want to see Villanelle as a Keeper and continue being the top boss bitch in the industry.

Her confidence continues to fascinate me. Especially her confidence around Dasha. She knows she’s better than her and that’s all there is to it. Not only she says it but she proves that by her first kill this season. I honestly can’t wait to see her future kills, because so far it looks very promising.

Konstantin

Only a couple of scenes of the show’s dad this episode. Apparently he has several phones which he is struggling to deal with. He’s living several lives and that shows. In S2 he was all determined to get back to his family. But what we see in this episode is that he’s not with his family anymore. He’s working again. And based on Irina’s voice mail, he and his wife are separated. His wife has a boyfriend now and Irina is there with them. (I hope they will bring her back, what an iconic, hilarious yet annoying child) 

Konstantin receives several shady messages, one of which reads “time to go fishing”. It can mean literally anything. But for some reason I’m feeling that they want us to think he had something to do with Kenny’s death. It could be him, it could be an assassin Konstantin is handling right now. Or it’s not him at all, but we believe it’s him based of what we saw so far. Too many questions and not enough answers so far. 

He was the Twelve’s target back in S1 and had to stay low during S2 as a “dead man” so now.. I’m not really sure what his status is. Some of us saw the leaked photos of S3 finale and what might possibly happen... and that just brings me back to my previous point of Carolyn and Konstantin being the Twelve’s targets this season. Will they survive? And if they do... how? If they don’t... does that mean Villanelle and Eve will now be completely by their own and possibly on a run from the Twelve?!

Kenny

There’s not really much to say here. We ALL loved our dear Kenny. He’s probably the most innocent character on the show and he had to go. Now, I don’t believe his death was done for shock value. Not his character. A huge, meaningful character had to die in order for the rest of characters to get moving. For the entire story to move forward. They are setting up a serious plot here and I am excited, despite being really upset about Kenny’s death. 

I think Eve will be the mostly affected character in the show by his death. Carolyn doesn’t seem to be very affectonate towards her son, but hopefully it will make her realize just how big of a trouble she in. Eve, however, will be forced to get back to investigate the Twelve and she will not stop until she does so. She’s all by herself now. The determination, the anger as well as other feelings will drive her this season to get the much needed answers and get to the bottom of the whole thing. Meanwhile... Villanelle seeks information and control as well. She is trying to investigate the Twelve in her own way. So why not pair them up?

Overall thoughts

As many have said it, the episode felt different to me as well. I think that’s mostly because we have set our standards so high, that we immediately become disappointed if the episode doesn’t deliver as much murder, Eve/Villanelle scenes or something else we might be expecting in particular. 

I found myself wanting to compare the episode with other seasons and that is a mistake. We shouldn’t be comparing it because previous season had different plot, the overall feeling was different and the characters weren’t as developed as they are now. Furthermore, the show runner changes each season and that is what we need to look at. Phoebe and Emerald have done incedible job during those first two seasons but now it’s Suzanne’s time to shine. All three of them are different people and have different ideas and views as to how they see the characters and where they want to take them. So I think we might need to “forget” the previous two seasons and be way more open minded when it comes to third season. After all it’s the most personal one and it has a different feel to it. It’s more serious, and it is setting up an actual plot for the series. It’s a good thing. And as much as we hate changes like these... I think we should embrace them this time and let the show go in the direction it is going without the need to criticize it or control it. 

I’m beyond excited to see how everything will unfold and where this season will take us. Based on all the trailers and interviews I’ve seen so far... this will be a one helld of a ride and I am NOT prepared for it!

If any of you reached this point, you seriously deserve an applause! Hopeuflly you enjoyed reading my nonsense lol! Let me know if you’d like me to write a review for the next episode, because I do have plans for writing for the entire season, but it’s always better when I have an audience to write for! 

Now if you have any theories or thoughts don’t be shy to comment or message me so we could chat about it! I’d love nothing more than a good conversation about the show we have a common obsession for! 

[gayoperatorgunclub]

For the ultimate ship meme, Lion and Doc? I'm sorry, I'm LionDoc trash-

it’s all good!! whenever someone sends in an ask, i get an excuse to talk/write about one of my interests! really, it makes me so happy to be able to create content that people hopefully enjoy!! 💝💝💝

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - until the end of time, babey

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - it was love at first sight but then they started talking i do think it was some form of ~interest~ in one another at first sight, but then all that drama and lack of communication happened so they didn’t really allow themselves to even dream about the possibility of a relationship. HOWEVER! once lion joined rainbow and they talked their shit out like people who know how to cope, there was a period of a few months that is now referred to as The Four Months of Pining™, during which glaz did a lot of paintings where the subject (who usually bears an uncanny resemblance to doc or lion) is staring at something (or someone) longingly. he calls it his french period. when they finally get together, a LOT of money changes hands. and goes straight into sledge’s pocket (he was the only one who bet that it would take them this long). diana gets a brand new collar (handmade), bed (handmade), dish (handmade), and many new toys (some handmade, some store-bought. sledge’s craftsmanship can only get him so far) 

How was their first kiss? - you know how the french are supposed to be super suave and confident??? and how gay people are trying their hardest but they’re just Not Good at things????? (i know these are stereotypes but stay with me). well, with their 5/8 french blood (i hc one of doc’s parents is fully algerian while the other is half french, half algerian), and their 4/4 gay blood, they have an 81.25% chance of success in matters of the heart. sadly, that 18.75% chance of failure came into play during this situation. picture it. doc and lion. romantic, home-cooked dinner. le festin is playing in the background. they’re holding hands over the table. suddenly, doc’s cat goes into labour. all hell breaks loose. lion is getting flashbacks to his son’s birth, so now he’s hyperventilating. doc carries him to the couch and turns on the fan so he can cool off and catch his breath, before carefully moving his cat, Rayie (arabic for gorgeous, pronounced rye-ah) to the living room in his handmade Birthing Box, then grabs a pile of blankets and a heat lamp and situates himself on the ground nearby so he can help her if she needs it. once the kittens are born (they’re twins!! Sadiqi is the boy, and Amirti is the girl!!!) doc makes sure they’re nice and warm and that Rayie is recovering, and gives her pets while she cleans her babies. once the happy family is all settled in for the night, doc walks over to the couch and just. lays down on top of lion. once he’s gotten over the adrenaline of the birth, he takes lion’s face in his hands and says “promise me you’ll be more calm if we ever decide to have kids” and gives him a BIG smooch while lion’s just short-circuiting like “does he know i have a son???? did i forget to mention my son?????? also what about these kittens??? are they not sufficiently childish to count as children????? DOES HE WANT KIDS????? does he want to marry me??????? wait why is he getting so clo-”

Wedding:

Who proposed? - lion. it was the day of their two year anniversary (yes i AM saying they got together the august after outbreak don’t @ me) and they were on vacation at doc’s family’s Secret Beach House. they were vibing on the balcony, watching the sunset, when lion suddenly clears his throat. doc turns to look at him and finds his boyfriend down on one knee, looking like he might flee to Bermuda. he’s reaching for something in his pocket. doc starts laughing. lion, completely misunderstanding his reaction, flushes and stammers out an apology. doc sees this, and immediately stops, though he’s still smiling gleefully as he catches lion by the biceps, then reaches into his own pocket and pulls the ring he was going to give olivier. they exchange rings, giggling like little kids, and spend the rest of the night making out on whatever surfaces are available. 

Who is the best man/men? - for lion? montagne. (his son is the ring bearer and doc’s niece is the flower girl). for doc? rook. he’s so happy he gets to participate in his dad’s wedding

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - for lion: finka. for doc: twitch

Who did the most planning? - both of them!! do you know how hard they worked to ensure the ceremony was valid in the eyes of both of their religions

Who stressed the most? - s e e  a b o v e

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - lion’s parents. they tried to call him during the reception but doc’s grandma grabbed his phone and started cussing them out, talking about dishonor and how they tried to disown him so they’re not his parents anymore, and besides, his new family absolutely adores him, so really, it’s their loss. once she hangs up, she pulls lion into a hug and he calls her his favorite, if only, grand-mère

Sex:

Who is on top? - who’s topping? lion. but sometimes doc gets bitchy so he gets to set the pace if you know what i mean

Who is the one to instigate things? - they are both lowkey horny 24/7 so 👀👀👀

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now (only because they do get to see each other fairly often. if one goes on a long mission without the other, once they get back they will bump it up to a 10 real quick)

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - idk long enough ig. maybe longer if someone feels they’ve been left ~unsatisfied~ they might go a few more rounds ;))

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - ok it depends on what they’re doing but usually it’s one or two each, but on ~special~ occasions it’s either doc getting edged and denied for hours, OR doc getting forced to come over and over again until he’s begging for something, whether it be more or a goddamn break even he isn’t really sure. either way he’s crying and lion is consistently asking if he needs to safeword and otherwise checking in because they may like it rough but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - unless someone’s hormones and organs get fucked, zero

How many children will they adopt? - probably none?? idk they’ve already got lion’s son and they’re both busy enough with work so

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - NEITHER!!!!! DISGUSTANG!!!!!!!!!

Who is the stricter parent? - god i wanna say both. like lion and his attachment to rules??? but doc and his Mom Friend energy????? but ig lion BUT HE’S NOT STRICT TO THE POINT HE’S A BUZZKILL OR ANYTHING HE’S JUST RESPONSIBLE (he will NOT allow his husband and son to go vandalize the property of some islamaphobic brits, as much as he agrees with the sentiment) 

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - doc will only allow vandalism if it’s in the name of righteousness. meaning, he’ll allow their son to spray paint the walls of a goddamn walmart with shit like “eat the rich” and a portrait of robespierre and a guillotine, but it is a HARD NO on defacing places like the library or community center (unless he has a good reason to do so). lion spends his time praying and making sure his son knows which acts of civil disobedience are acceptable and which are distorting their goal 

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - doc. he (privately) dreams of retiring (eventually) and living out his lifelong dreams of being a househusband. so

Who is the more loved parent? - SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW GET OUT OF MY HOUSE IM GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS. but ig lion??? BUT ONLY BECAUSE THEIR SON HAS KNOWN HIM LONGER. doc is half Dad and half Cool Uncle Who Gives Me Spray Paint And Tells Me To Make Myself Heard (to clarify, i know doc is a pacifist, but im kinda projecting my own sentiment of “we’ve tried to be peaceful but you wouldn’t give us the time of day. now that we’ve “acted out” we’ve gotten your attention, and rest assured, things are going to change.” he won’t hurt anybody, he’s just tired of having to be everyone’s “muslim friend” and educating people on things they could google themselves)

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - it used to be lion out of necessity, but when people started asking about his “wife” he was really torn between telling them that he and his son’s mother separated, but now he has a partner and his son seems very happy about it. when doc finally attends a meeting with lion, people really struggle to hide their shock. a few clunky but well-meaning “we support you”’s and “we’re sorry for everything that’s been going on”’s later, doc has used his charm to make friends with literally everyone. from then on, he is on pta duty on behalf of lion and his ex

Who cried the most at graduation? - lion! his parents purposefully didn’t show at his, so it’s a big deal for him to show his son just how proud he is. doc tears up a little too, but manages to mostly keep it together so he can support lion, who spends most of the day heave-crying about how proud he is into his husband’s shoulder. gustave just pats him on the back and tells him that they’ll run out of donuts if they don’t get to the concession stand soon

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - doc. civil disobedience, baby!! he has never been caught. lion fears the law after his youth, so he tries to avoid any visits to law enforcement. he also can’t stand to see his son behind bars

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - doc. househusband, remember?

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - doc, but only because he can be a bit of a spice supremacist. he has to get his ingredients from these very specific farms and markets or else his great grandmother will begin manifesting in their house to curse them

Who does the grocery shopping? - doc, bc he does NOT trust lion to not just sweep all of the microwave ramen and kraft mac n cheese into the cart then sprint to self-checkout

How often do they bake desserts? - whenever possible. doc and maestro live by the philosophy “don’t do anything halfway” if they’re going to go through the trouble of making a meal, it will have multiple courses. 

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - doc is more of a salad eater but only for ease of consumption with halal laws. he adores filet mignon

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - lion! maestro enlists himself as assistant head chef after walking into the base’s kitchen one day to find lion covered in flour and lying facedown on the floor, crying

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - also lion! though he’s memorized doc’s order at all of their favorite restaurants, so he usually just gets take out and puts on a big show of being a “tired housewife who works in the kitchen all day just for this one meal” and setting up the table so it’s all nice and romantic

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - lion. he tried crème brûlée once. never again 

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - lion. organization is everything to this man. doc helps with laundry and such, but for the most part he leaves organization to lion and his systems (think leslie knope levels of planning and organization)

Who is really against chores? - neither! they both understand that teamwork makes the dream work, baby!!

Who cleans up after the pets? - doc, since lion’s already asked him which color hanger should represent “clothes i can tear off my husband before we fuck” and he needs a Moment

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - neither. they don’t own a broom

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - lion because of the deep-seated catholic urge to appear perfect in front of others, and doc because people will gossip, olivier!

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - lion. he immediately called doc into the room and asked “is this your stash of drug money?” doc, who had been asleep because it was 3 in the morning on a saturday, just stares at him

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - it is so bold to assume they don’t shower together to “cut costs”

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - lion is known in their neighborhood as the man who walks cats. there is a facebook page where people post pictures of him walking his cats. vigil is an admin

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - LITERALLY EVERY HOLIDAY GETS DECORATIONS. lion makes his own for the muslim holidays since there really aren’t many “of good quality” in stores. when they first started dating, doc came home to find his house covered in ramadan decorations, and lion standing precariously on a ladder, trying to string up fairy lights while learning how to pronounce important arabic words. needless to say, doc cries

What are their goals for the relationship? - mutual joy and contentment!!!! 

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - doc. he’s sleepy

Who plays the most pranks? - lion, but they’re stupid ones like replacing certain pictures with danny devito. doc gets back at him by replacing pictures of jesus with ewan mcgregor, and putting yoda into his nativity scene. lion doesn’t notice