#Also someone like that would use nicknames on me and I’ve had so few (my treasured Mags stands alone) that I would enjoy it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

januaryembrs · 11 months ago

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TROUBLE ALMOST ALL MY LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

Description: The ONE time the BAU needs you + the FOUR times you need them.

word count: 24k (what on earth was I thinking)

trigger warnings: mentions of spencers addictions + use + side affects. MOMMY ISSUES thankyou ambassador Prentiss. hostage scene + injuries. mentions of forced/pressured marriage. fem!reader. reader and Emily struggle to bond.

authors note: We never meet Emily's dad nor do we see a picture so while reader is given a nickname of Bugsy, she still keeps her real name (no use of y/n) and is given ZERO physical descriptors. ALL of my fem!readers should feel included here, let me know if this is not the case! also I don't speak any language besides English however she does speak many because of her mom, so I really tried to get it right, message me if I'm being stupid!!

series masterlist | next chapter

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

“I’ll make some calls, I may still have some friends in the Eastern countries,” Ambassador Prentiss announced to the room, standing from her place on the plush sofa.

A case had landed quite literally in Emily’s lap when her mother had come by that morning asking for Hotch, a Russian migrant looking for her father with a ransom note and a sliced off finger shoved through her mailbox, wedding ring still attached.

It wasn’t every day Emily wished she’d brushed up on her Russian, but today of all days she was struggling to keep up.

“We don’t have much time, we need a division of labour,” Hotch’s serious face settled, the time constraints making him just that bit more dictatorial, “Morgan, someone needs to go to the Chernus’s house in Baltimore in case they are contacted again,”

“What about the language barrier?” Derek raised, smoothing a hand over the short scruff of his beard, “We can’t have the unsub speaking with the family directly. He could say anything to them without us knowing,”

Bugsy would hate to admit she fit the criteria for youngest daughter of a workaholic mother and distant father to a tea, but Emily would say different.

Elizabeth Prentiss had never been a warm woman; Emily used to tell her the scowl was a side effect of the overplucking of her eyebrows, not the serious nature of her job. Her youngest girl once said her mother’s lips looked like she’d sucked a lemon. Of course they admired her work, but world peace meant jack shit to a little girl wanting nothing more than a mother’s hug.

Despite the fact she’d pushed away her husband and both her daughters in favour of her career, the one useful thing about being the Ambassador’s daughter wasn’t just the money, but the widespread culture the girls had been crammed full of since they could so much as beg for a sippy cup.

“Baltimore, you say?” Emily asked Hotch with a somewhat doubtful wince, “I mean you could always-”

“Absolutely not,” Her mother cut her off, rubbing the stress lines already creasing her forehead at the very notion of her other daughter, despite the fact Emily hadn’t even finished her thought.

Emily’s sigh was a reflex, the years of her mother cutting her off sparking the frustration on instinct.

“She lives right in the city, Mother, it can’t hurt to have her just talk for them-” Emily tried to bargain, only for the sharp mouthed Ambassador shoot her a frown.

“End of discussion, Emily,” Elizabeth snipped, her manicured fingernails twitching with annoyance, “Your sister is much too young for an assignment so serious,”

Emily rolled her eyes with a scoff, as if the two had slipped back into the role of rebellious teenager and scathing mother without much thought.

“She's twenty-two, mom. She’s getting her masters degree for Christ sakes, she’s not ‘too young’,” The dark headed woman fought back, clicking her pen a few times as if the spring loaded ink would take away some of the temper Elizabeth seemed to flare up.

Her mother’s lips pursed, in the way Bugsy hated, in the way that meant she was going to be mean.

“Immature may have been a better word, then,” She replied, and Emily seemed to pause. She couldn’t argue with that. “Or perhaps lazy, or puerile; callow, wild, irresponsible. Would you like me to name more?”

“Asinine would be a good term; deriving from the Latin asinus it not only means foolish, but to be stubborn and lazy like an ass,” Spencer input helpfully to the Ambassador, only for his bright smile to fade when he saw the daggers Emily stared at him with, “Sorry, I love word games,” He muttered into his lap.

“Asinine. Perfect, Dr Reid,” Elizabeth said, and Emily could only roll her eyes harder.

Hotch huffed, the victim’s daughter watching between the two women’s quarrel with wet eyes, the ice box with her father’s finger clenched tightly in her lap, the cold of the limb bleeding into his own gaze.

“Unfortunately, Ambassador Prentiss, despite just how asinine your daughter might be, Morgan is right. Having the Unsub possibly speaking with the family without us understanding what he’s saying could prove fatal,” He explained, ignoring the way the older woman’s mouth scrunched in bitterness. They didn’t need to be profilers to see that despite how tempered the relationship between Emily and her mother was, a tension seemed to fall between the women the moment the younger Prentiss was mentioned.

Spencer was sure he was the only person who even knew Emily had a little sister.

“Very well, but don’t be surprised when you find your hands full of the girl,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head as she led the victims, a mother and daughter that seemed to cling to one another for comfort as if to rub salt in her matriarchal wound, into the break room to get away from the frosty atmosphere that now lingered around the table.

Emily sighed, picking around her fingernails the way she did when she was bothered.

“I’m going to hate these next words that are gonna come out of my mouth,” She started with a long exhale, “But my mother’s right. Bugsy is a handful. Just try not to get her wound up, that girl smells fear,” She looked to Reid who seemed none the wiser, “I’m talking to you, wonder boy. She’ll eat you up and spit you right back out,”

Spencer gulped quietly.

Derek only chuckled, slapping a hand down onto Emily’s shoulder, “Relax, Prentiss. Your mom’s just got you all worried. Need I remind you I grew up with two sisters? This will be a piece of cake,”

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan.

Loud, heavy metal music jumped through the wooden door, so loud Morgan worried his three polite knocks would go unheard as the two of them waited outside her dorm for her to answer. Morgan was about to knock again, figuring the music had drowned out the first lot, when the door swung open and a frown the spitting image of Emily’s stressed expression met their gaze.

She looked so different to their Prentiss, but the way she seemed already scorned by the two of them told them they had the right woman.

“Miss Prentiss?” Morgan asked formally, though he felt the warmth grow when he caught sight of a beat up friendship bracelet around her wrist amongst newer gold chains, five white blocks spelling out her sister’s name pulling tight on her skin, as if she’d quickly outgrown the thing but hadn’t the heart to remove it.

It was then that he and Reid seemed to both reel back slightly at the fact she was standing in a large shirt, ratty around the edges, and what seemed to be a pair of men's boxers covering her bottom half, clearly not suspecting particularly important visitors.

She looked him head to toe with a frown, a dozen piercings in her ears, her hair highlighted with streaks of cardinal red, as if he was the one confronting her in his underwear, before she moved onto Spencer, who’s face seemed to be getting hotter by the second as he forced his eyes away from her bare legs.

“Are you guys strippers? Did someone send strippers to my door?” She asked, strawberry gum smacking between her lips as her gaze seemed to finish mulling over Spencer’s tall form and returned to Morgan.

“Emily sent us.” Reid said shortly, the music blaring in his ears making it difficult to focus on what it was she was saying, “As co-workers, no-not strippers. We’re with the FBI,”

He hated loud noises anyway, cringed at the sound of particularly cutting rock songs, but since he’d developed his … problem, the dilaudid had him feeling like someone was clawing at his skull, tugging his brain through his ears.

“Emily sent you here?” She asked with a scoff, looking the two up and down again. They both easily caught the way her face hardened, “Are pigs flying today or something?”

“We’re here to ask for your help on a case,” Spencer rushed through a sweaty brow, “Emily said you’d be able to act as a translator for us and some Russian citizens who are being targeted,”

She sighed sceptically, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame, “Any strippers or non-strippers can fraud an ID. Emily’s name was in the paper just the other week. I’m gonna need a little more than that,”

She keeps track of her sister despite the supposed distance between them. Spencer was quick to profile, his mind whirring at all the ways she reminded him of her sister down to the way she raised her eyebrows expectantly at them.

“Emily was born October twelfth, 1970 at 7:12am, graduated from Garfield High School in 1989,” Spencer said as if reporting the weather, her eyes narrowing in on him all the more coldly, “She attended Chesapeake Bay University and speaks six languages, as I expect you do from moving so often with your mother. She coined your nickname Bugsy from your childhood love of ladybugs, which she said you grew out of by the time you turned eleven yet the name stuck, though you still like counting the spots to identify their species. Your parents split when you were five and your father moved in with his now wife, born September ninth-”

“Alright- alright. What are you, living in her walls?” She interrupted incredulously, before turning her attention to Derek who seemed to hide a chuckle with a cough. “Either you really are a stripper or you’re a terrible friend,”

“She loves Kurt Vonnegut,” Derek held his finger as if to prove her entirely wrong, although not much else came to him. Maybe he was a bad friend, he thought guiltily, or maybe he simply lacked an eidetic memory like the wonder boy next to him, who had been about to tell her how old she was when Emily’s pet betta fish died, “Slaughterhouse 5?”

Rolling her eyes, she grunted at them, kicking her door open for them to enter.

“Everyone loves Vonnegut; only losers under a rock dislike Vonnegut,” She drawled, edging back into her room, the heavy bass rock growing in volume as they followed her in, “I’ll be ready in a second- Emily’s always bugging me about wearing pants,” She said vaguely, scanning around the dirty dorm, until she found one particular pair of jeans laying half under her bed, quickly yanking them up her legs. “Come in, come in.”

She flicked the speakers way down to which Spencer took a breath of relief. His eyes fell to the laptop that had been set up on her desk, the five different textbooks littered around the spare space, energy drinks and empty mugs filling the cracks where he could barely see the generic white of the table top, his nose crinkling. About as gross as he’d expect from a college student.

“Emily said your Russian was pretty good,” Derek made conversation, his eyes wandering over the various posters plastered over her walls, some fraying round the edges from where she had likely been moved from bedroom to bedroom when the Prentiss’s inevitably had to move country again.

“Yeah,” She snarked, pulling a nicer top over her head, “Kinda tends to happen when you live in Russia,”

Morgan raised his eyebrows to Spencer who seemed to give him the same look back, though the latter was biting back a snicker at her words.

How in the hell was she the Ambassador’s daughter?

–

“This all involves Russian Mafia, it’s really beefed up here the last ten years or so,” Agent Cramer, a tall, slim man who looked entirely overwhelmed by the workload on his shoulders reported, as she listened intently.

She had been somewhat de-briefed in the car, Emily messaging her for the first time since Christmas, the message a simple: “Have you met with Morgan and Reid yet? Make sure to put on pants,” to which she sent her a thumbs up emoji. She didn’t have much to say to her at the moment, barely even knew her sister anymore.

“It started off mainly in New York and LA but they send lieutenants from the old country,” Cramer went on, and she caught Reid scratching his arm beneath his shirt. She knew it was mozzy weather, and he was already under the blaring sun in a little sweater, it wouldn’t surprise her if he felt a bit prickly.

“Pahkans,” She interrupted, the man named Gideon shooting her a glance as she dug through her purse.

“Your Mom do much work about the Mafia?” He asked, as she produced a clear nail varnish.

“Here and there, I had to sit with her in her office for a whole Summer once when I got caught sneaking out. Picked up a few things, though,” She said, holding the polish out to Spencer, nodding to his arm, “Here. Supposed to help bug bites,”

He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, perhaps question her sources for such an old wives tale, but he stopped himself quickly, taking the varnish out of her hand with a dejected nod.

“Thankyou,” He muttered, shoving it in his pocket.

Three months he’d been in this rabbit hole. She had noticed it in a matter of hours.

“They open up branch offices in other cities. Baltimore, Saint Louis, Chicago, Dallas, the list goes on,” Cramer added, nodding at her words, “They’re mainly offshoots of the Odessa Mafia and they’re especially tough to crack from a law enforcement standpoint. I mean beside being well organised with sophisticated technical equipment, there’s Vory v Zakone to contend with,”

“The thieves code, eighteen principles they live by,” Reid jumped in before she could, to which she nodded as Gideon looked to her for more.

“It means ‘thief in law’, or ‘thief with code’. It's a system of repeatedly jailed convicts that have been crowned or ‘made’ with a strict list of ideals, breaking them usually means death,” She explained, kicking a stone between her feet.

“It’s like bible to these guys. We’re not gonna be turning any of them informer anytime soon,” Cramer said. Gideon seemed to tune the three of them out however, his gaze locking on the house across the street, where a curtain twitched, and a man’s face appeared in the window, watching the crime scene with guilt.

“Then we’ll need a witness who will talk,” Gideon replied, heading straight towards the neighbour who seemed just a little too invested in what was happening, much more than a concerned third party should be. Though, she had barely noticed, digging through her purse once more for chapstick.

“So, you study Russian or something?” Cramer asked as she applied it gently, Spencer swore he could smell the cherry flavour from where he stood beside her.

“I lived in Moscow until I was six, moved back to France, then back to Italy, then Algeria for a bit. Bounced around Europe for a bit longer, but I still speak better Russian than anything else,” She clarified, and she saw Cramer’s eyebrows shoot up, “Military brat except I don’t get the cool discount at the store,”

“You must have had a lot of friends though, going to so many schools,” Spencer added, and though there was nothing teasing about his tone, she laughed sharply anyway.

“You’re funny,” She snarked, but smiled at him anyway.

Spencer had never been called funny in his life. ‘Funny looking’, ‘funny sounding’ maybe, but never funny.

In fact he was so confused by what she had meant, whether it had been a taunt or genuine that he almost missed the sound of the whole street locking their front doors, dead bolting their lives away when a black prius, an expensive one at that, pulled through the street and swerved into park next to them.

“Guess who,” Cramer bit, her eyes ripping away from where Gideon had the door slammed in his face.

Detective Cramer aged by about five years when two tall men got out of the luxury car, opening the door for a shorter man in the back seat, their faces thunder.

“You familiar with them?” She asked, shoulder brushing against Spencer as she turned to watch the men approach, entirely aware of the .9mm on each of their hips.

“Arseny Lysowsky,” The detective identified, his voice cold, eyeing the two men who flanked the leader, towering over them.

“Agent Cramer, how are you?” Lysowsky smiled at him, which oddly enough seemed somewhat real, as he also took stock of the three other people around him. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, noting her lack of gun and badge, trying to decipher if she was local or just a very unprepared fed.

“Lysowsky, what brings you out?” Cramer asked, a tightness to his tone, his hand all too eager to grab his own pistol.

“I heard Chernuses had problems,” He kept it vague, didn’t reveal too much, and looked back at the victim’s house with a scorned frown.

“How did you hear that?” Gideon challenged, stance unwavering as the mob leader turned to meet his cold gaze.

“And you are?” He asked, a sinister smile on his face that flipped her stomach. She didn’t like the tension that had overcome the little patch of sidewalk they took up, and she was quick to notice how Spencer moved towards her.

He, by far, wasn’t the best shot on the team, but he was sure Hotch and Prentiss would have his and Morgan’s heads if any harm came to her.

“Churneses said they hadn’t told anyone,” Agent Gideon ignored his question, hands firmly planted on his hips. If he was unnerved by the criminal in front of him, he never showed it, not even when Lysowsky’s grin widened horribly.

“It is a small community. Word gets out,” He said simply, looking past him to the neighbours house that had kicked Gideon to the curb, “Are you a friend of Gorban’s?”

A second of silence passed between them, neither of them backing down from the moral standoff they’d engaged in.

“Mr Gorban wouldn’t talk to me,” Gideon admitted, and Arseny only smiled again, flicking a look at the house behind him, as if hearing his dog had obeyed without command.

“Would you like me to talk to him for you?” The threat was there clear as day, clear enough to have Gideon’s eyes narrow, “I can’t promise something will come of it,”

“You!” In a second, Natalya, the victim she’d briefly met when Morgan had pulled up around an hour before, had stormed out of her house, her black kitten heels clicking against the concrete, “Where’s my father? He has my father!”

“Wait a minute,” Derek called, restraining her where she stood, trying to pull his muscled arm from her shoulder, “Do you know he has your father?”

“He’s responsible for all of this,” She spat, her eyes cold as she glared at the three men with vitriol hate, “Why everyone’s afraid, him and his animals,” She threw a hand up to his bodyguards that seemed barely contained by Cramer’s silencing hand.

“I am only here to help,” Lysowsky replied, confident and calm in his words, though not as taunting as the agents would have thought, as if he truly cared for her.

A vast difference to the sadistic mob boss Cramer’s team had painted him to be.

“Help?” She laughed woefully, tears in her eyes, “You’re a dog,”

“Natalya,” Arseny said in a warning, the way a teacher would to a student, as her breath rattled in her chest through a weep.

“How exactly can you help them?” Bugsy braved to speak, Gideon and Reid both flashing her a look. She’d always had trouble holding her tongue.

Lysowsky turned his attention to her then, his eyes running down her figure, still deciphering whether she was armed; she looked much too young to be an agent.

“In any way that they’d like me to, darling,” He replied, the disdain in her frown clearly not deterring him in the slightest, though again the act of concern held up in his own grimace, “As I said this is a small community. If one is in pain, we’re all in pain.”

Natalya weeped behind Morgan, sniffling as the boss made his way over to her, “Natalya, [you didn’t have to bring in outsiders],”

The younger woman’s ears pricked up as he spoke in his native language, Spencer’s eyes flicking to her from behind his sunglasses.

“[Let me help you],” He continued, taking a step towards Natalya, unthreatening yet she saw Morgan tense, his fingers twitching towards his gun.

“[My family will never come to you for help],” Natalya hissed back, also in Russian, her face contorted in disgust, “[Get away from my house],”

“[You are not right, Natalya],” He replied, yet again the concern in his eyes was either genuine or very well faked, “[You have made the wrong decision],”

Taking a step away from the victim that wept with a scorned sneer, he looked back to the agents, noting the way the youngest of them glared at him hotly, before retreating to his car.

“What did he say? Did he threaten you, Natalya?” Morgan asked, the woman watching the group of men drive away, as if Mr Chernus wasn’t still missing and they hadn’t just bumped themselves up to number one of the suspects list. “Talk to us and we can do something about it,”

“He said I made the wrong decision,” She said wetly, frustration turning on Derek as he pushed her for an answer, “I hope I didn’t,”

With that she stormed off back into her house, the same stomping of her kitten heels in her wake, leaving the agents to all look between one another before they simultaneously turned to look at Bugsy, questions hovering on all of their lips.

“What did he say exactly?” Gideon asked without frills, a hand rubbing his brow. Relaying the information, the men’s faces all drew into frowns as they heard Lysowsky’s parting statement. Gideon huffed, turning to Morgan and gesturing for him to follow Natalya inside.

“Morgan, keep an eye on her, Reid and I are going to Cramer’s office to look over the files,” He looked at her then, worry lines littering his otherwise friendly face, damn near scowling as she looked over at him, “You are here to interpret, you understand? You do not speak to the suspects, that’s our job.” He growled, watching her with disappointment, the same tone a father used when scolding a petulant child, “Do you have any idea how much danger you could put yourself in? These guys won’t hesitate to take you out the second we’re not around, kid,”

“But-” She started with a bite, though her whole fight left her when he silenced her with a raised hand.

“Buts are for cigarettes, kiddo,” He interrupted, and Spencer winced slightly, knowing he’d heard that one a few hundred times when he’d first started under Gideon and had yet to mature entirely. Reid watched something rebellious flare in her eyes, and he worried for a moment she might just slap his boss for the patronising tone he took, “Just keep your mouth shut, you’re doing great so far,”

She opened her mouth to protest, only to then register his words entirely and stay silent once more, appreciating his praise with a guilty smile. For once, she listened.

–

The grandfather clock chimed to tell them it was merely 11am; two hours until the unsub would start cutting more if they didn’t get the ransom fee, two hours to figure out who wanted Natalya’s family to suffer.

Said woman paced her living room at the sound of the hour, as Bugsy picked over the knick knacks on her fireplace, a small smile teasing her lips when she saw a picture of three small children grinning toothily at the camera.

She had never gotten any photo’s similar, Emily being fourteen years older. The majority of their childhood photos consisted of a very grumpy teenager holding her baby sister that seemed to squirm in the tight, formal dresses Elizabeth Prentiss had forced them into, identical scowls on their faces as they were made to sit for the picture.

There were some good memories, ones where Emily let herself be a sister and not a mom, where she would put makeup on her for fun and do her hair, let her have all the clothes out her wardrobe she thought looked nice, reading to her before bed, even letting her sister keep her pet corn snake when she left home for good.

But now, it seemed like she was too caught up in her super serious grown up job to give a shit that her sister lived just an hour away. Still messaged each other for holidays, but the last few times she’d braved a call to the eldest Prentiss, it had gone unanswered. They argued the majority of the time they spoke, or there was an awkward long silence in between words, whichever was worse, but they each knew the other would come running if they were to ever need them so desperately.

“Are you hungry? I could make something?” Natalya offered kindly, Derek having a poke through her collection of books that sat on the end table, though he’d have a tough job reading them as she’d already caught most of them were in her home language.

“Oh, no thanks. I’m fine,” He replied with a small smile, putting down the books to calm the clearly on edge woman that looked to the twenty-something year old hopefully.

She shook her head, “I’m good, thanks,” which seemed to deflate her entirely as she sat next to Derek with a sigh.

“I guess I’m like my mother. When she’s upset, she cooks,” Natalya said with a sad huff of a laugh, running a hand through her short, dark hair.

“Yeah, mine does too. I think that’s just a mom thing,” He replied, and Bugsy felt the two of them look at her as her finger traced the old brass ornaments gently, “How about you, baby Prentiss?”

She snorted, “You’re kidding, right?” smiling bitterly, “My mom never cooked for us, she said we needed to figure it out for ourselves rather than relying on the staff. Didn’t stop her from trying to end world hunger though,”

It wasn’t lost to Morgan the way her eyes trained on the picture of Natalya and her mother, cuddled together with genuine love in their embrace, the snarky humour as she spoke, the same longing Emily seemed almost too good at hiding from them.

“Your mother is a great woman,” Natalya complimented, though she missed the way the girl’s face steeled over, chewing her bottom lip as if to stop herself from snapping at the woman who meant well. She said nothing. “Where is your mother?” She turned her attention back to Derek who seemed the more talkative of the two of them.

“Chicago. That’s where I’m from,” He replied, watching Bugsy turn away from the two of them to inspect more of the Chernus’s trinkets on their walls.

“I’m from Dolgoprudny. Just North of Moscow.” Natalya replied. Opening her mouth to add something else, she was cut off by a knock at the door and the three of them froze in their place.

“Are you expecting someone?” Morgan asked Natalya in a hushed tone, reaching for his gun and heading for the door.

She shook her head, “No,” She whispered back. Morgan pulled the curtain back the smallest inch to see a small blonde boy staring back, a box in his hands and a bored look on his face.

It all happened too fast from there, Natalya opening the door for the neighbourhood kid, opening the box to see a decapitated ear, the blood fresh and pooling in the bottom of the box. It couldn’t have been taken longer than an hour or so ago, unless they were keeping the parts on ice.

Bugsy’s hand slapped over her mouth, Natalya’s scream piercing through her as she shoved the box into Derek’s hands, fleeing to the toilet, and she heard the woman retching. Part of her felt the same nausea settle in her stomach, looking away from the body part with a wince as Derek got straight on the phone to Gideon.

“They didn’t wait, man. They sent a box with-” He swallowed thickly, “With Mr Chernus’s ear inside.”

Gideon replied, and whatever it was, it had Derek looking back to her. He agreed, hanging up the phone and rooting through his pockets, producing a set of rattling keys, holding them out for you between the tips of his fingers.

“Gideon wants you, kid. He said they’re at the Little Kiev restaurant, they’re going to talk to Lysowsky,” Morgan said, grimacing as he held the ear away from her, “You sure you’ll be okay to drive?”

“I’d rather be on the road than look at what’s in that box,” She said in disgust, taking the keys and heading out to the car.

She thought it best for everyone she didn’t tell him she hadn’t yet got her licence as she made her way over to the restaurant.

“Reid and I will do the talking, just see if anything he’s saying connects with Vory v zakone, think you got that?” Gideon instructed her the second she got out of the car, taking the keys and handing them back to Reid who gave her a small nod.

“We think the reason it was Mr Chernus who was targeted has something to do with the code,” Reid explained, his hands in his pockets as the three of them approached the restaurant, “You said earlier you understood the tenants,”

“Why me, though? I thought I was just translating?” She repeated Gideon’s earlier words, almost cocky that they needed her.

“Lysowsky would feel the need to show face in front of men like Morgan and Cramer, even in front of Natalya since she lives locally. Between the three of us, he had less reputation to uphold, less so with a young woman like yourself,” Reid added, holding the door open for her to go in front.

And so there she was, trailing behind Gideon and Reid over to where Lysowsky sipped a spoonful of borscht, as she tried not to marvel at the grandeur of the establishment inside. Clearly, Arsney had money to build a place like this, and wasn’t afraid to be flashy about it either, that much was apparent from the other clientele that tended to their beers around their own tables, Rolex watches and designer shoes adorning nearly every one of them. She hated to think of how many ears or fingers those suits had cost.

“Would you like something to eat?” He asked, a chunk of bread in his hand dipping into the thick sauce, seemingly unbothered that they were there, “This borscht is exquisite, it’s my mother’s old country recipe,”

“Didn’t you forsake all your relatives when you swore the thieves code?” Reid asked, which she guessed was hit foot in to get Lysowsky to talk.

“I didn’t forsake her recipes,” Lysowsky replied with a shrug, looking to her where she seemed to be staring at his plate, “Borscht?”

She shook her head, her nose wrinkling, “Much preferred stroganoff, mom used to force me to have borscht to make sure I ate my veggies,”

His eyebrows raised, surprise written over his face, before he gave a short laugh.

“[Where are you from]?” He asked in his mother tongue, gesturing for the three of them to sit down, though his eyes lit up as he watched her carefully.

“[I was born in DC, but my mother worked in Moscow for a few years],” She answered shortly, and he seemed to find it even funnier that the near child they’d brought along on their case spoke as fluently as he did.

Laughing with a heavy hand smacking on the table, he gestured to a nearby waiting staff to come over.

“What are you having then, borscht for the gentle man?” He looked at Reid and Gideon, the former shaking his head while Gideon nodded with an awkward smile.

“I’d love a taste,” He said, though any enthusiasm seemed to have drained out of his voice.

“And what is the little lady having?” Lysowsky asked, his eyes falling back to her, as she straightened in her seat.

She chanced a quick glance to Gideon, who nodded at her to play his game. She had not expected to be so deep in criminal territory when they’d said they needed a translator, and truly they hadn’t planned on getting her in the field until they realised she would know much more about this than they would.

“Do you have sharlotka?” She asked, returning his smile wearily as he clicked at the waiter who all but bolted to the kitchen.

“A sweet tooth. I like it,” Arseny replied, shovelling a heap of beets into his mouth, “Our favourite was always Leningradsky,”

“Ours?” She prompted, giving a polite thanks to the waiter who returned too quickly with a slice of cake. She caught Spencer glancing at the bowl with intrigue, the hunger clear on the quiet man’s face. Gently pushing the bowl and clean spoon towards him, he flicked a look up at her, “Apple cake,” She whispered, sending him a small smile, “Really yummy with the sugar on top,”

“Mine and my mother’s,” Arseny replied, though Gideon and Reid both caught how he paused before he replied, as if he had to think about the answer he was giving; the oldest tell that it wasn’t entirely true, “We didn’t have much when I was a boy, but that was always our dessert of choice,”

She stopped for a mere second, missing the moment when Spencer spooned the tiniest bite of the cake into his mouth, trying to ignore the way his tongue exploded in the sweet, fruit taste. He hadn’t eaten anything properly in days, and maybe that was why it tasted so good, but more likely it was just the fact that everything sweet tasted even better when he was on his come downs.

“We need to talk, Arseny,” Gideon interrupted, ignoring the way Spencer pined to go back in for a second mouthful, but chose to hand the bowl back to her with a small smile.

“We are on first name basis?” Lysowsky asked, shaking his head, and she took a small bite of the sweet cake for herself, “I still don’t even know who you are,”

“I think I understand something about this,” Gideon replied, his thumbs tapping together, the waiter returning with his borscht, “You have a problem,”

“I do?” The pahkan titled his head at the agent, the annoyance clear on his face.

“That’s why you came to the Chernus’ house this morning,” Gideon answered, unbothered as he began to scoop the borscht onto the spoon, the apple cake in her own mouth going down a treat.

She kept her head down, took tiny bites of the dessert that certainly tasted like a fresh baked sharlotka. But her thoughts lingered on what Lysowsky had said, about his own favourite pudding.

It made no sense that he would have ever tasted Leningradsky shortbread, not for the time that he was born, nor with the amount of money he claimed his family lacked. Infact, the way he fully pronounced his vowels, the akanye, the stress he put on certain parts of his words, all pointed to the same dialect you’d heard back in Moscow, more central than anything else.

So how on earth would he have eaten the so-called ‘Royal Cake’ that had only been made eight hours from there, in the town it grew its name from.

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing.

“A man like me?” She tuned back into the conversation, swallowing another mouthful down as Gideon took another bite himself, though it seemed the topic had turned sour as Arseny wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin.

“Four watchtowers and a convict signifies a stay in prison,” Spencer cut in, nodding towards the tattoos branded across his knuckles, “Each one of those crosses symbolises an individual sentence,”

“Twenty three years in prison in the Ural mountains,”

But she was still stuck on what it was she was missing. It had been such an odd thing to lie about, particularly when he’d even admitted himself that they hadn’t had much money, so he clearly hadn’t been lying to fake a reputation.

So why lie?

She was ripped out of her stumped silence when Natalya entered the restaurant, her voice grabbing the men’s attention immediately.

“Mr Lysowsky. You said you could help me,” She said, her purse over her shoulder and her own car keys gripped tightly in her hand as if she’d all but thrown herself out the vehicle to get there faster.

“Don’t you already have help,” Lysowsky snapped, clearly Gideon had dug under his skin enough to garner a reaction.

“I made a mistake,” Natalya replied, barely meeting Bugsy’s gaze as she stared at her from her seat at the table. “I talked to my father on the phone,”

The girl frowned at her, “That’s a lie,” It came out before she could hold herself, brows furrowed at whatever it was she was trying to pull. Gideon said her name in a reprimand, though he too was looking at the woman as if she’d grown a second head.

“Thankyou for coming, but I don’t need your help,” The woman met her confused look with a saddened expression, nodding to her solemnly.

Leave it alone, she seemed to be saying, there’s nothing more I want you to do.

And with that, the two of them left the restaurant, Natalya walking by his side obediently, her purse tucked in close under her arm, as Morgan and Cramer filed in from the parking lot, watching their only leads drive away without a fight.

–

The team were quick to head back to Natalya’s home, only to find the ear missing and the finger gone too, the only evidence left of any crime being committed leaving with the victim’s daughter herself.

“She’s not here, and the garbage was never taken out,” Morgan said with a grimace as he walked down the front steps to meet the four of them on the sidewalk.

“Her dad just went missing, surely we can cut the girl some slack-” Bugsy words were hidden in a huff, rolling your eyes at the man who cut a glance to her.

“No, no. When Hotch first talked to us, he said she noticed her father’s car in the driveway when she took the garbage out,” Morgan explained, his shades blocking the way the cogs turned behind his dark eyes.

“Right?” Reid asked, his own sunglasses now covering his eyes that winced at the brightness, surrounding them.

“Garbage can in the kitchen is completely full, she never took it out.”

“She lied,” Gideon said with finality, the penny beginning to drop for him too.

“She could be half way back to Dolgo-whatever by now,” Morgan scoffed, his arms smacking against his side as the lightbulb went off over her head, the final puzzle piece falling into place.

“Dolgoprudny?” Spencer asked, exchanging a glance with Cramer, “Isn’t that where Lysowsky’s from-”

“Yes, YES, of course!” She exclaimed, grabbing onto Spencer’s arm as he spoke.

He looked at her with wide eyes, not that she could see since his shades blocked the way, only to feel her shake him harder in the midst of her enthusiasm. Part of him wanted to rip his arm out of her grip, waiting for the sickness to crawl up his throat at a strangers germs touching him, but the oddest part of him reasoned she had the same germs as Emily did, that the fifty percent DNA the women shared negated the fact she was a stranger, just as it did when he met Jack. Jack had Hotch germs. Bugsy had Emily’s. He didn’t feel so sick thinking of it like that.

“I knew I was missing something,” She said, turning to Gideon, “He was lying before, about his favourite dessert. There was no way he could have had Leningradsky with his mother. Given his age, at that time in Soviet Russia, shortbread was incredibly expensive, only extremely wealthy families could have eaten it. That, and given the Central dialect he speaks in, I’d pinpointed he lives somewhere near or around Moscow, which means there was no way he was eating that cake considering it was only ever baked in one shop at first, one way up in Leningrad, where St Petersburg is now, like nine hours away from Moscow-”

“What’s your point?” Cramer asked, tired of the somewhat slew of thoughts she’d been saving until she knew for sure what she meant.

“Before when he said it was ‘our favourite’, I don’t think he was talking about him and his mother,” She explained, looking to see if Spencer at least understood what she was getting at.

“It was him and his own child…” Spencer finished, as Morgan’s phone began ringing.

“Yeah, what?” He asked, the frustration clear in his tone that they were all still without the evidence needed to pin it on Lysowsky, “You’re sure? Uh-huh. Okay, thanks doll,”

The four of them looked at him expectantly as he nodded to her, “Garcia just got into the bank’s system, somebody wired 500 thousand dollars into the account ten minutes ago,”

“Who wired it?” Spencer asked, though he was still reeling from the way she’d touched him, the way her voice went up about five octaves and a dozen decibels.

“She didn’t say, but the name on the account is Lyov Fulenko. She says that’s Lysowsky’s wife’s maiden name. Fulenko.” Morgan replied, and her brows furrowed.

“Why did she bring us into this?” Gideon asked, though the solemn look on his face said he already knew, “Because she needed to put pressure on the other victim,”

Gideon headed towards Mr Gorban’s house once more, though it was clear he had already sketched out in his head who was their unsub and Natalya’s involvement, he simply needed the confirmation.

Morgan clapped a hand on her back, “Nice job, baby Prentiss. Those were some mean profiling skills out there,”

She frowned at him, scoffing, “I’m not a profiler, that’s Emily’s job. It was just basic linguistics really; more a display of how I need to lay off cake for a while.”

The man kissed his teeth with a grin, “Don’t put yourself down. What’s your degree even in?”

She shrugged, picking under her nails for something to do, “Individualised genomics and health.” She said as if it were child’s play, though Spencer’s head shot to her.

“Biotechnology?” He asked, and she glanced at him with a nod, “What’s your thesis on?”

Gideon had returned by the time he’s asked, and began corralling the two of them back to the car, “We’re heading back to the restaurant. We need to speak with Lysowsky again,”

But it had fallen on deaf ears as Spencer looked at her expectantly.

“Just some new research into prenatal screening, nothing too fun,” She simpered, climbing into the back seat as he nodded with her.

“I read a fascinating paper on the uses of hCG in a woman’s body-”

“Reid,” Gideon cut him off with a short glance from the front seat, “Continue this conversation once we’ve found Mr Chernus alive,”

Spencer blushed, feeling like a kid caught in the cookie jar, “Sorry, sir,” He looked over at her, only to see her hiding a smile to herself.

He thinks it was then he’d decided Emily had been wrong about her.

“You paid the ransom already,” Gideon said plainly, the four of them trailing behind him as he followed Lysowsky to a small seating area in the front of the restaurant. She could tell the whole way Spencer had been itching to ask her more questions about her paper, barely contained as his fingers had twitched in his lap, but he seemed to straighten himself out once she’d reached the restaurant, “You paid all the ransoms,”

“Sit,” The boss ordered, barely glancing at them as he held his strong whiskey up.

“Are they going to kill Mr Chernus?” Morgan asked, cutting to the chase as Lysowsky spared him a bored glance.

“No,” He replied shortly, the look on his face about as grumpy as when they’d left.

“The account is in the name of Lyov Fulenko. Lyov is a man’s name.” Spencer input, crossing his arms as the boss glared at him, “A son’s name. Vory v Zakone. Never have a family of your own. No wife. No children.”

“Lyov,” He looked at her then, gesturing to her with the glass of strong liquor, “You know what it means?”

“The Lion,” She replied gravely, steeling herself against his dark eyes.

“No one else would be so stupid,” Lysowsky ran a hand over his weathered face, swigging his drink as if it was the only thing keeping him talking. “At first it didn’t mean much. It was a way of letting him earn his own money. I could afford it, it came from the fund. And no one questions the use of the fund-”

“Where is he?” Gideon asked, his elbows on his knees as he leaned in.

“What else could I do?” He was ignored, “I couldn’t admit I wasn’t blessing the kidnappings, I couldn’t even admit my son existed.” He huffed when he saw Gideon’s face unmoving from the glower, his question still unanswered, “Chernus will be home in a few minutes. You should be there, he will need medical attention,” He shooed them away, with his final words, drink sloshing in his hand. His face darkened, impossibly so, and the five of them looked at him, something sad and remorseful shining back.

“What are you gonna do?” She asked, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

“Vory v Zakone.” He said heavily, nodding to her, “We take care of our own troubles.”

It was a silent journey back to the Chernus’ house.

Morgan and Reid pulled up to the campus, the younger girl in the back seat almost dozing off with the rhythmic hum of the engine, the evening sun much nicer on Spencer’s sensitive eyes.

“This is you, baby Prentiss,” Derek’s voice jolted her out of the half sleep she was in, straightening herself from where she had her head pressed against the window.

“Thanks,” She muttered, rubbing her eyes and unbuckling herself as they did the same, assuming they wanted to walk her back to her dorm since it had gotten dark, “I’ll be okay on my own, campus security should be out by now,”

“You sure?” Reid asked, flicking his watch up to his eyes to see the meagre 6:13pm staring back at him, “I thought they started at 7,”

She blinked at him, her eyebrows quirking for a moment, “How do you know that?”

“Johns Hopkins was my backup option- well actually it was my third, I much preferred Caltech’s curriculum, Yale was my second-” He started, flicking a glance to her where she waited for him to finish, “Not that Johns was bad, there were just better- alternative options out there-”

“Don’t shit your pants, I’m hardly the dean of the university,” She chuckled indignantly patting them both on the shoulder before sliding over to open the door, “Nice meeting you both, I’ll just get back to my mediocre college with my poor curriculum, nothing like the solid gold bathrooms at Caltech-”

“I never said that!” She laughed again, with her whole chest, at his defensive tone as she stepped out the car, hand on the door to shut it behind her.

Leaning down to give them both a wave goodbye, Derek’s voice stopped her again, “Baby Prentiss, do us all a favour and enrol yourself into forensics, we need more people on our team,”

Smirking at him, she shook her head, “Very funny. Never gonna happen. I like my little slides and samples, thankyou,”

Slamming the door on the two of them she headed for the front gates, swinging her purse over her shoulder. She was stopped by a hand on her shoulder, and she quickly realised she’d been too tired to even realise a set of footsteps jogging after her.

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all.

Whirling around, her eyes widened as Spencer had clearly not been leader of the track team as he was half out of breath just from the few feet he’d covered, though she reckoned she could have guessed that seeing his lean ribs beneath his shirt.

He shoved a business card in her face as he caught his breath, though it was more just his name and credentials followed by a phone number.

“I-I don’t have email otherwise I would-” He huffed, scratching his forehead as she frowned and looked at him.

“I’ve never been hit on via business card before,” She bit her lip with a smile, reading over the card again as he choked on his words even more than before.

“N-no, I-” He spluttered, ignoring the way Morgan beeped the horn for him, seemingly in a debate with a ticket metre that had caught him parked on yellow, “If you needed us for anything, or if you needed a second pair of eyes for your thesis, I’m happy to help,”

“You don’t have faith in the dummy that got into Johns?” She asked, and his head couldn’t shake fast enough, though he seemed to catch her teasing and shared her smile, “Thanks, Dr Reid,”

“Spencer’s just fine,” He said, giving her a small nod and a wave as Morgan’s palm bounced on the horn a dozen times. She flashed him one more smile, pocketing his number and heading back to her dorm, wondering what the doctor would think about the paper due in tomorrow she’d yet to get started on.

+1. The one where you get arrested.

The case had been heavy. They’d felt it in the car on the way back to headquarters. A little girl, molested and groomed by her own uncle, his own wife covering for him.

His mother always told him love makes you do crazy things, but Spencer hoped that whatever part of him worth loving would at least stay sane by the time he found the one. He was loyal to his team, to his mother, but that was where he drew the line. He was loyal to his family, undoubtedly so.

Yet so was Emily.

The call came to the second SUV, her phone set up to hands free mode, quickly flicking to answer the call on speaker, the other half of the team ahead of them on the freeway.

“Prentiss, speaking. Who is this?” She spoke clearly to the unknown number, her knuckles going white at the wheel when she heard a nervous laugh.

“It’s me,” Her sister mumbled through the speaker, “You wouldn’t by any chance be near DC would you?”

She huffed, cursing the knack Prentiss women had for showing up at the worst times.

“Can’t this wait, I’m on the clock,” Emily hissed, her finger edging towards the ‘End Call’ button, “I’ll call you after,”

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up!” As if sensing her movements, she all but screeched, “This was my one phone call, they won’t let me have another,”

The car went silent for a moment, Spencer’s eyes narrowing on the dash from his place in the passenger seat, JJ also leaning forward from the back with a frown.

Emily grit her teeth, her upper lip twitching the way it did when she was mad.

“What do you mean by one phone call? Where are you?” She bit in a cautious tone, though knowing how reckless Bugsy tended to be, she had a pretty good idea.

The hesitation on the other end of the line was palpable, as was the way she awkwardly cleared her throat.

“Fairfax County Jail,” She murmured sheepishly, “But it wasn’t my fault, these assholes don’t know what they’re talking about, I swear-”

“Stay there and keep your mouth shut,” Emily ordered, her expression furrowing into a sneer, “And for the love of god don’t antagonise the officers,”

The agent didn’t even wait for a response, knowing it would probably be something snarky, her mind already racing at what the hell her sister could have done this time, every worst possible explanation jumping to the forefront.

“I’ll call Hotch and tell him to turn around,” JJ offered, her fingers already searching her contacts for their boss, as Emily sighed through her nose.

“Tell him not to worry, I’ll drop you guys back to headquarters, make my way there myself,” She said, picking the skin of her nail softly with her thumb.

“By the time we’ve reached Quantico, visiting times will be over and she’ll have to stay the night,” Spencer pointed out, his own surprise evident. Sure, she had certainly been a personality when they had met, but a criminal seemed a stretch.

“Maybe it would teach her a lesson,” Emily mused, shaking her head to herself, “Who am I kidding, that psycho would Shawshank her way out of there by dawn,”

“You don’t actually think she would hurt anyone do you?” JJ said, the dial tone ringing out from the phone she held to her ear.

“Wouldn’t put it past her. She once cut a girl's pigtail off for wearing the same dress as her on her birthday,” Emily winced as Spencer’s eyebrows shot into his hairline.

“I thought getting swirlied was bad,” He muttered, watching out the window as Emily made a U-turn at the traffic lights. He and the now twenty three year old had been bouncing research papers back and forth for a few months, the odd one every week, Bugsy even once joking it was much more interesting and riveting than foreplay, which had his face red hot at his desk.

She was like that, he’d quickly realised, had a vulgar sort of humour about her, yet he couldn’t help the snigger that came out whenever he’d receive one of his papers back through the mail with pink writing scrawled all over his ideas. The little hearts that dotted her exclamations whenever she wrote “AMAZING!”, the odd time she’d written “sexy ideas, doctor Reid” which he’d come to understand meant it was really good. He’d even gotten back the drawing at the end of the paper of a stickman of the two of them, his hair a curly scribble and a purple tie which told him immediately who was who, her line of a hand pointing at his caricature with the speech bubble, “everyone point and wave at the smart man,” which had made him laugh.

She was odd, toeing the line between childish and witty, nothing like the scholars he usually worked with, and the writing he usually sent back on her papers were all in standard black ink, his own pharmacist handwriting staring back at him as he crammed in his every thought of her research into the margins. If she couldn’t read it, she hadn’t said, but he liked to think she took notice of it all, even if it wasn’t strewn with stars and doodles and the occasional flirt he knew meant nothing. He knew her from her writing, knew her from her ideas that sometimes kept him up at night thinking more about them, but the two of them hadn’t spoken directly, most certainty hadn’t seen one another since that day with the Chernus’.

Emily hummed, fingers drumming on the wheel, entirely unaware of the thoughts rattling around in Spencer’s head, then again that’s how it always was, “I just pray to god she’s listened to me for once in her damn life and keeps quiet,”

“Fucking bitch. The nuns in Moscow hit harder than you,” She spat, blood dribbling from her split lip. She wasn’t entirely lying, but god did her mouth sing with pain as she tried to muffle a moan.

“You got jokes, pig lover?” The other woman asked, a tattoo covering half her cheek, her nose crooked from the shiner the Prentiss girl had already given her. “Won’t be fucking laughing when I’m done, bitch,” The woman was quick to tackle the girl around her stomach, slamming her into the hard concrete of the holding cell. Bugsy felt her skull rattle, the wind whooshing from her chest as rough hands grab her shirt and pin her down harder.

The younger girl reached the nerve under her opponent's armpit, the soft of her ribs, twisting until the woman gave a bark of shock, and she took the opportunity to shove her off, climbing on top of her as they both scrambled for some sort of control.

“I got one for you. What’s got a broken nose, a black eye and doesn’t know what’s good for her?” She swung twice as hard, the other women in the cell rattling against the bars as if watching a matador taunt a bull, the air thick with excitement as the two of them cursed eachother out.

Emily’s sigh was audible across the room as the wardens separated the cat fight, the largest of the officers all but grabbing her sister by the scruff of the neck like a feral beast, dragging her over with stubborn feet to where the BAU stood in the lobby, eyes widened at the state of her.

“You better start acting your age, little girl. Mommy’s not gonna be around forever to save you,” The officer hissed in her ear, manhandling her over to where Emily glared daggers into the side of her head. She knew that look, it was eerily similar to mom’s that time she’d been caught sneaking out of the house, something in the warm brown of Emily’s eyes frosting over into a cold blackness. Fury.

She chewed her words for a moment, waiting until the man had turned around with a grunt of acknowledgement to the badge Emily had flashed to get his attention, before she spoke.

“She’s not my mom, she's my sister, dumbass-” Emily slapped a hand over her mouth, gripping her shoulder with the bear-like strength her jagged nails possessed when she was mad, the scoff of disgrace leaving her mouth as her team trailed behind the two of them.

“What the hell happened, baby Prentiss?” Morgan asked, ignoring the way Emily’s heated gaze turned on him, “What’s got you so worked up?”

“Don’t entertain her, Morgan,” Emily seethed, all but shoving her into the back of the SUV. She looked up at her sister with an open mouth, the guilt flashing in her eyes as she wavered under the pointing finger Emily jabbed in her face, “Don't you even dare,”

“But-” She stammered, cut off when she saw the glare intensified, if that had even been possible.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you for the rest of the day unless you’re prepared to give me a good explanation why I’ve dragged my team out here to save your sorry ass,” Emily hissed, and the girl’s mouth bobbed a few times, feeling the rest of the team watching as she got thoroughly chewed out.

“Wait-” Emily’s hand lingered at the car door, ready to slam it in her face as she rubbed her cuff over her chin, mopping up the damage. Her head tilted for a moment, hoping her sister had something good to say, only for it to be; “He just called you old, I hope you realise that,”

Emily’s gaze darkened, slamming the door shut with an anger she imagined her mother had kept warm for the past twenty three years, whirling around heatedly when she heard a snigger from one Derek Morgan.

“Damn, mama, hear the girl out.” He said, slapping a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he passed, heading back to their own SUV, “Maybe she’ll surprise you,”

If Emily was going to bite anything back, she didn’t. Instead she ran a hand over her brow, the group disbanding to their cars now the problem child had been picked up from daycare, except for Hotch who watched the older Prentiss with a scowl, despite the worry in his eyes.

“Hotch, I’m so sorry, just take it off my timecard, I’ll cover all the costs,” She said shakily, her own frown adorning her face as she felt herself blush from embarrassment under her boss’s gaze.

“I understand she’s your sister, but this was a gross misuse of agent time and resources, Prentiss,” He said, his gaze drifting to where Spencer sat next to the girl, pulling a packet of tissues and hand sanitizer out of his satchel while JJ rooted through her own purse for a plaster, “Don’t let it happen again,”

Emily nodded vehemently, flushed with anger, her palms sticky as she wiped them on her jeans.

“Absolutely sir. Believe me, this ever happens again, she’s on her own,” She replied, though they both knew she didn’t mean it. Emily would never.

He nodded stonily, deciding quickly that it was punishment enough that she felt so ashamed, he knew from his years of arguments with Sean what it was like to have a sibling stray so far.

“We can fill out reports in the morning, just get Reid and JJ home,” Hotch said, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder as he passed her to head towards his own vehicle, “And try not to kill each other in the company car. It doesn’t look good on paperwork,”

She beat off the smile on her lips as she got back into the driver's seat, the air that engulfed the four of them foul as she glared over her shoulder and into the back. Spencer twitched in his seat uncomfortably, his hand still passing over tissues to the bloodied girl.

“So, you gonna tell me what that was about?” Emily asked, her tone brittle and warning, not in the mood for any snarky response she could give, “Or is this old lady going to have to lay into you some more,”

The smell of strong ethanol engulfed her nose as she held the soaked tissue to her face, frowning into her lap silently and avoiding the burning stare as Emily stuck the keys in the ignition and started the car.

“Let’s start with why you were there,” JJ input, the same tone of voice she used as when talking to victims, calm and motherly, unlike the pissed off snarl Emily gave, “You wanna tell us why you were arrested?”

“You two really gonna pull the good cop, bad cop on me?” She snapped, her lip swelling around the wound, tongue grazing it softly despite the heavy taste of the sanitizer.

Emily said her name in a warning, her last warning, and she knew better than to push her luck even more, the SUV pulling out of the station and onto the road.

“I was just shopping for groceries,” She started, fiddling with the bloodied tissue, wincing under her tongue stroke, “Store clerk made a pass at me, I told him I wasn’t interested. So he put a pack of smokes in my handbag while I wasn’t looking; the alarms went off. I didn’t even know what was happening until security grabbed me at the door,”

JJ flashed a glance at Emily, like two parents deciding an appropriate punishment, the brunette’s lips straightening out into a line.

“You’re telling the truth?” She asked cautiously, glancing in the rear view mirror to see how her sister balled the mess of paper between her palms.

Rolling her eyes, she gladly accepted the other packet of tissues Spencer slid over the leather seat between them.

“I went out for milk and oranges, I was not looking to get picked up, Em,” She bit back, groaning when she felt it jostle the cut, “And certainly not for cigarettes, you know I only smoke on New Years,”

Spencer looked at her with a frown, and she caught his confusion quickly, pulling another leaf of paper from the packet.

“Emily and I had a rule after she caught me smoking when I was like fourteen, that we could have one cigarette between the two of us on New Years eve,” She explained, JJ also perking up to hear it, “So that by the time morning came around, it would be last year’s mistake, and it would be like it never happened,”

JJ smiled to herself, remembering the time she caught Roz sneaking one of her dad’s cigarettes on the back porch back when she was just ten. She remembered the little secrets the two of them kept back then, held them even all these years later.

“So how did that lead to, well,” JJ gestured to her lip, “That,”

“Yeah, didn’t I specifically tell you to not antagonise anyone?” Emily chimed in, signalling she was changing lanes as they headed down the freeway for a second time that day.

“Technically you said not to antagonise the officers,” She pointed out, before Spencer had the chance to, shutting his mouth as he caught the glare Emily shot through the mirror.

“Keep talking,” The older Prentiss ordered, as Bugsy sighed and blotted her lip some more.

“That woman, Mira I think her name was, anyway, she recognised me from that picture mom had us take on Independence Day, the one they put in The Hill, and she asked me if it was true my sister was a fed,”

Emily’s fingers twitched at the wheel, knowing the status agents and even people associated with agents held in prisons; knowing just being a Prentiss in a jail cell held a big, dazzling price over her head that said ‘kill me, kill me!”

The air sucked out of the car, a look passing between JJ and Reid as they thought the same thing, waiting for her to go on.

“So then you hit her?” Emily guessed, the bitterness slowly ebbing as she understood maybe her sister wasn’t as unruly as she thought.

“No, I told her to leave me the fuck alone, but she said you guys sent her brother down for something a while back, and she asked again if my family were all Pigs,” She picked her nails, the blood stain on her sleeve staring back at her, “I told her if she didn’t stop calling you a Pig, I’d make her squeal like one. And then I hit her,”

Emily tried to pretend she didn’t smile hearing that, her cheeks tightening, lips pulling down as she fended it off.

“Is that good enough, officers, or will you be needing fingerprints?” The girl chimed after a moment, a weight seemingly lifted from the car as Emily quickly realised she had, for once, not been entirely at fault.

“I want a handwritten apology to my boss for wasting his time,” Emily demanded, her unforgiving gaze softening when she saw her smile, “And you owe my team coffee,”

“I can do coffee, coffee coming right up,” She agreed, shoving the used tissues into her purse with a crooked smile, “It’s a date,”

Spencers ears turned red, looking over the seat at where she dabbed at her lip gently. She didn’t look much older for six months, but she had gotten her nose pierced since the last time he’d seen her, unless he just hadn’t noticed it before, and the streaks of red were slowly fading out into a blush pink that said it was old, and he wondered if she’d done it herself in that tiny little cubicle bathroom of hers she shared with the four other girls in her block.

“You finished your stats papers yet?” He made polite conversation, though part of him was dying to know out of curiosity if she could crunch numbers and equations as well as she could in her own labs.

“Got two more this week, they’re kicking my ass man,” She replied with a huff, and he didn’t think he’d ever been called ‘man’ by a woman before. He knew if he’d known her in college, ignoring the fact he would have been twelve, he would have thought she may just be the coolest person alive, “I miss my labs with my microscopes and watching all the little baby cells move around in the ethanol. Stats are like, just not sexy,”

He smiled at her as she stared out the window, unaware of the way she’d managed to make DNA sound like a play pen full of kittens. He held off from telling her he found stats really quite sexy, knowing it would never sound the same coming from his mouth.

He pulled a leaf of the tissues from the packet, producing his own pen from his pocket and began doodling carefully so as not to rip the delicate canvas.

Sliding it over to her after five minutes as Emily and JJ made conversation in the front seat, she didn’t care that the grin tugged on her split lip, the reaction was instant, she couldn’t stop it if she tried.

Two stick men stared back at her, her hair a close match in texture and a childish triangle drawn as means of a dress, a very tall stick figure next to her patting her metaphorical head, a speech bubble coming from his mouth.

“Maths is fun!” It said, and she flicked a glance at him, her smile the most genuine he’d seen yet. He just smiled back.

+2. The one where you graduate

Emily felt the looks on her the moment JJ had mentioned Maryland. The case was a little under their pay grade, nothing more than a stalker, no bodies or bloodshed, but one very rattled woman that had turned to the communications liaison with fear for her life.

With Hotch and Rossi in Boston helping a case of their own, the rest of the BAU had been twiddling their thumbs waiting for something to come across their desk.

“This case is in my hands now, and if we do nothing and something happens to her,” JJ took a heavy breath, her eyes lingering on the three names Keri had given her in case of her untimely death, “I’ll be the one notifying her family,”

Derek, despite his own hesitations about using their time for a case like this, caved the moment he saw the guilt on the blonde’s face.

“Okay,” He shuffled the papers into a pile, Emily and Spencer gathering their own resources on the case and standing from the round table.

Luckily, one government SUV was more than enough to carry the four of them for the hour drive North, all of them well aware Hotch would flip if they used more funds than necessary.

JJ piled into the front beside where Morgan climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving Emily next to a particularly fidgety Reid. It took all of fifteen minutes of the man flicking a glance at her, his mouth quirking as if he were about to use it, before he thought better and looked out the window, and the whole thing would start again.

Derek, the less shy about his thoughts of the two men, even glanced at her through the rear view mirror, before he too returned his gaze out the window silently. JJ shifted in her seat, knowing she had to tread carefully around mentioning Bugsy to Emily, particularly after the last time they’d seen her. Emily had said they’d grabbed coffee once or twice since then, but that was all she spoke about it, which left her team walking cracked eggshells at the thought of bringing her up.

It seemed the three of them were bursting at the seams with the same thought, and it wasn’t until Reid cleared his voice, his puppy eyes stuck in his loop, that she had had enough.

“Does anyone here have something to say?” Emily huffed, Derek immediately reaching to turn the radio up the same time that JJ flicked the AC on for something to do. Realising they weren’t easily broken, she turned to Spencer who already looked slightly guilty, thumbing at his sweater, “Reid?”

“Did you want to see your sister?” He asked without hesitation, as if the words had fallen out of him, “You know, since we’re so close on this case. It would be a good excuse to-”

“You did say she owed us a coffee,” JJ pointed out, spurred on by Spencer’s nerves, “Wouldn’t mind cashing in if we’re coming all this way.”

“Morgan, do you have anything to add?” Emily asked with raised brows, though she already knew what was coming.

Derek chewed over his thoughts a second, “I’m just saying, you only get to see your baby sisters grow up once- you know, and it couldn’t hurt to see her even if she runs rings around you with that smart mouth-”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on the case?” Emily cut him off incredulously, but received three knowing looks back. She met JJ’s gaze where the woman had swivelled in her seat to talk to her, and Prentiss was fast to catch the buried grief in her best friend’s eyes. She knew it pained her to even bring up sisterhood, let alone watch Emily throw hers away for the sake of a decade and a half between them. It was the desperation in JJ’s face that did it, knowing she would give anything to spend just an hour with Roz one more time, that had her drawing her cell out her pocket and calling the contact with the little ladybug next to it, “Fine,”

As a profiler she would have been tempted to ignore the way Spencer smiled into his lap; as a sister, her eyes narrowed at him.

The phone rang surprisingly only once before she answered, and she heard an unnaturally tame version of her sister answer.

“Emily?” She asked, her voice hushed, worried almost, “You okay?”

Her brows furrowed, “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” She got no more than a hum in return, somewhat agreeing though Emily could tell clear as day she was holding something back. “Look, we’re gonna be in Silver Spring, I was thinking tomorrow we could grab lunch-”

“Can’t, I’m busy, it’s an all day thing,” Her sister cut her off, yet it wasn’t rude or demeaning like usual. Nervous almost, sad, “Sorry,”

“What’s an all day thing?” Emily asked, the concern matching her words.

Her sister swallowed on the other end of the phone, before she found her words, or maybe even the balls to actually speak, “I’m graduating tomorrow,”

Emily’s face lit up, the smile spreading fast on her face, ignoring the way Morgan’s words seemed to ring true in her ears; she was growing up too fast.

“Graduating, why didn’t you say!” She asked, the joy in her tone unmissable, “How’d your papers go?”

Spencer held himself off from correcting her that she’d only done five papers, that the rest of her results had come from theory and labs, thinking better than to interrupt the one conversation they’d had where there was no underlying argument brewing.

“Full honours, obviously.” Bugsy drawled with a snicker, and Emily shook her head, the smile never dimming.

“Look at you, y’little superstar,” Emily bit her lip, ignoring the guilt that tore at her when she realised she barely knew what Bug spent her days doing, “Did Mom and Dad get good seats? Oh god, dad’s not bringing Stephanie is he?”

The silence on the other end had her halting, the light in the conversation wavering for a second, before she understood the nerves, the quick defence her sister had been on the moment the call had been answered.

“Bug-”

“They’re not coming,” Her heart ached in her chest hearing it, “I sent Mom the details, she said she’s in Ukraine this week settling some papers. Didn’t even get a chance to ask Dad before he and Stephanie were off on their fifth honeymoon in the Bahamas until October,” A painful laugh echoed down the line, as if she were holding back the gravity of the situation.

“Bug,” Emily tried again, picking her thumb viciously, punishingly, hating herself for being so blind to her sister’s troubles, “Why didn’t you invite me?”

“I figured you’d be busy,” Came the reply, sad and tender, the most honest she’d heard in a while, “You’re always busy,”

“Never too busy for you,” Emily’s guilt tripled when her sister didn’t answer, knowing if she were to counter the statement with hard evidence it would only hurt both of them, “Look, I have some time today, probably,” She didn’t, not even a few minutes, “Why don’t we get that coffee, you don’t even have to pay,”

Bugsy gave a sad laugh, “Sorry, Em, I gotta get my dress fitted today, and some of the lab techs invited me to a party later. Maybe some other time,”

“A party with biology nerds?” Emily asked with false excitement, the air turned stagnant between them now, “Well, rock on, science freak. Don’t leave your drinks with strangers, and don’t walk home alone, and for god sake use protection-”

“Bye, Emily,” She said with a chuckle, the older of the two gracing her with the same, as they put the phone down.

The car was quiet, waiting for Prentiss to speak, none of them missing the way her lip pulled between her teeth, a bitterness on her face that told them she was holding in something close to sadness. You’re always busy. It echoed around her head, stabbing at her chest to think her sister was graduating alone, no one to congratulate her, no one to pat her on the back and tell her how clever she is despite the fact Bugsy would happily tell anyone just how smart she was on her own. Never too busy for you.

“She’s graduating tomorrow,” She said to the three people waiting for an update, Spencer’s brows shooting to his hairline. He hadn’t heard from her since her last paper got sent off, and why would he? They had exchanged a few little anecdotes and doodles, sent each other research papers to be graded like teachers exchanging lecture notes, “She didn’t even tell me. She’s gonna be alone,”

JJ grimaced, “What? What about your mom- or, or your dad, an uncle, someone-”

“Mom and dad are out of the country, Mom’s brother lives in Mexico with his seven kids, he can barely get a night’s sleep let alone a day off to travel up to Maryland. Dad’s sisters passed away when I was a kid,” Emily explained, running a hand over her face, “I can’t let her go up there alone,”

“So we don’t,” Spencer said, as if he’d never been more sure of anything in his life, “We don’t let her do it alone,”

“Graduating with Masters in Biotechnology; Jasper Adams, Tom Adamson, Kristen Afkins, Gavin Agriths-”

The dean read off the names of the students as she fiddled with the hem of her dress.

The dress fit beautifully, her make up done to near perfection, her hair styled neatly, she was graduating with full honours for christ sakes. Why couldn’t she just be happy with what she had? Why had she got to be so spoiled?

Lots of peoples parents missed their graduation, lots of people her age didn’t even have parents anymore, she ought to be grateful her mother was increasing famine aid in foreign countries, all the lives she would save, or even be happy her father had found a pretty, rich new wife to tour every known vacation destination with. Or even that her sister had called her just yesterday and told her in a few words she was proud of her.

But none of them quelled the feeling of loneliness that blossomed inside Bugsy. The kind that had always been there, the kind that just wanted someone in her corner, telling her she was doing pretty good for a kid who raised herself in all those big houses they’d moved to, who saw the au pair more often than her own mother.

All those rooms were so empty, the houses so quiet besides for her. It was like living in a cemetery.

“Robert Lewsinsky. Marcus Linford. Tara Lorence. Katie Macauley.”

P would be up soon. Each name of her classmates drew an applause, some whoops and screams, one family she swore there must have been ten of them in the back row cawing and howling like monkeys at a zoo, proud of their son for making it.

She willed a smile on her face, hearing Orla Parkins get called up, and she knew just by the steward that directed her where to stand in line she was close.

“Kenneth Patterson. Joshua Perriman. Harriet Pimms. Lauren Pintons.”

She held a rattled breath as Renly Prackett walked ahead of her, strolling over the stage to collect his degree, flashing the crowd a wide smile and a fist pump. She had always liked Renly, having been his experiment partner for a year, despite the fact he never washed up after himself in the lab.

Then it was, her name was called. The one no one but her mother and Stephanie ever called her, she solely went by Bugsy courtesy of Emily. It was a family name, a nice one at that. Maybe it had been the fact she had been eight and her cool big sister crowned her the new name, or maybe it just rolled off the tongue better, made her feel less like a Prentiss, that she chose to go by her monika.

She tried not to think about where or what Emily was doing, only hoping she was safe, as she began walking over the stage, her heels clicking loudly with her hesitant steps.

To her utmost surprise she heard a loud whistle echo through the auditorium, a group of jeers and screams of her name, even an air horn signing off that had her almost tripping over her own feet turning to see who it was.

Surely it was a joke, a cruel prank, she barely had any friends in her class. Acquaintances sure, but no one so bold as to make such a fuss over her.

Squinting down at the audience, her cap nearly slipping off her head as her head turned to the source, she felt her chest burst when she saw the dark hair and bangs, her sisters butchered fingertips in her mouth with a loud cattle whistle, screaming like a firework right to the stage where she graciously accepted her award, despite the fact she barely paid any attention to the dean anymore, more to her sister who smiled at her widely as she clapped. Behind her, her team she’d met on the off chance, the pretty blonde, JJ, who pressed the air horn a few more times, cheering just as loud for her. Morgan, the handsome one who had stood himself on top of his chair, cupping a hand over his mouth to scream “Kicking ass, baby Prentiss!” at her, ignoring the way other people stared wide eyed at them.

And Spencer, tall enough to be seen over the crowd even without the help of a chair, who smiled at her, clapping those big hands of his loud enough to reach her, his own whoops never ceasing even as she stepped off the stage to head back to her seat.

The rest of the ceremony dragged, a speech from one of the alumni and the exit music playing, but she simply grinned into her hand, where her degree smiled back at her, counting down the moments she would be allowed to stand.

And then she was fast walking down the stairs, amongst the bustle of students, the black gowns flurrying around her as she burst out into the square where parents, fiancees, brothers, sisters, cheered their loved ones, pulling them into tight hugs.

Her eyes scanned the wave of black hats, landing on two dark eyes, the thick sable hair framing the dazzling smile that awaited her with open palms. All but shoving her way through the crowd, she stopped in front of her sister, the urge to jump at her with a hug shying the moment she got close.

“Told you. Never too busy for you, Bug,” Emily said, pulling her in by her shoulders for a tight hug. She knew her sister wasn’t one to beg for affection, wasn’t one to let her guard drop so soon, but she also knew she’d needed it by the way she melted against her, the way she chuckled into her hair, pulled her closer.

“Do I owe your boss another letter of apology for this or do I get you guys for free?” The girl asked, as her sister pulled away, keeping an arm around her shoulder as they turned to the rest of the team.

“No, this one is entirely on us, promise,” JJ said with a smile as she saw Emily beaming maternally over at the girl, the flat of the cap knocking against her cheek as she squeezed her in once more, “We’re very proud of you,”

She heated under the woman’s words, wriggling in her shoes as bad as Emily did when she felt awkward, Derek chuckling and taking the degree out of her hand.

“Alright, lets see the creds, Prentiss,” He held it up next to her face as she shrugged, the ‘4.0’ clear as day next to her name, “Good looking, and smart. Those boys in the lab ought to watch out,”

She grinned under his teasing, “What can I say, I got the deep end of the gene pool,” She teased, feeling Emily swat her ear, her eyes falling to where Spencer held a plant pot with a poorly wrapped bow of twine around it, the soil a little displaced from the journey.

“This is for you,” He said, handing her the small green sproutling, his cheeks blushing as her face lit up, reading the small inscription on the front, “It’s-”

“Dionaea muscipula,” She said, biting her lip as she smiled at him, “This is so cool! Where on earth did- I had a paper last semester on the ways to study their electrophysiology you just have to read- oh thank you!”

“English, please?” Emily asked, though the warmth flooded her chest when her sister threw her arms around a very rigid Spencer.

Thinking she should grab her and warn her the man disliked touch almost as much as she does, she was surprised to see him give her a small embrace back, smiling proudly the way he did when he’d made someone happy.

“Piège à mouches Vénus,” Her sister responded cockily, tugging herself away from the tall man, to inspect her new plant, well aware that Emily rolled her eyes at her use of French, “Venus Fly Trap. I’ve never seen one so young, still I should be able to pull some slides on the Rhizomes in the soil-”

Emily put a hand to her temple, JJ smiling widely as she saw for once Spencer be the one on the receiving end of an earful, chuckling to himself when she began dishing out name ideas for the sapling.

“Holy shit, there’s two of them,” Morgan grumbled, nudging his shoulder into Emily who simply sighed, her migraine already starting as Reid began jumping in with his own thoughts, which didn’t take much effort.

“Don’t even,”

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

“Tell us about the 911 call,” Spencer requests, flicking through the file himself beside her in the back seat. She had her own set of paperwork in front of her, her pen attached to a clipboard the lanyard around her neck reading her real, honest credentials, unlike the fake ones Emily and Reid were given. She’d been to one of these sects before, invited kindly as part of her research on the effect isolation has on cultivation of crops, knew one of the mother’s well from her last research paper, and had managed to get the group a foot in the door to entering the Separtarian Sect with little fuss.

Hotch, usually hesitant to allow outsiders in on the job, especially as young and spirited as Bugsy, had to admit it would calm any potential unsubs and make them see the team as unthreatening if they had a friendly face there. He’d signed the papers with a frown that morning, and they were on their way to the little apartment the girl occupied just outside Baltimore, sample tubes stuffed into her pack ready.

“I believe the he that they refer to is the church’s leader, Benjamin Cyrus,” Nancy, a woman from child protective services, replied from the driver's seat, Emily thumbing through her papers as they neared the compound.

“Benjamin Cyrus, no criminal record; no record of him at all actually,” Reid replied, watching Bugsy scribbling notes into her lab book, perfecting her report before she had even begun, “What else do you know about him?”

“The sect I spoke to before, the one in Utah, said he was rumoured to be practising polygamy and forced marriages,” The younger woman said, looking back at him with a frown, “They were much more modern in their beliefs than these guys. Last time I spoke to Marina she was happy there, I can’t see why she would want to move here,”

Spencer looked as if he were about to answer, perhaps to tell her he was sure her contact would be just fine, when Emily shrugged and turned to Nancy.

“Do we know who the caller is?” She asked, sipping her now lukewarm coffee out of the disposable cup.

Nancy’s head tilted in a so-so motion, “Uh, Jessica Evansen is the one who the age fits, but we can’t be sure.”

“Well given their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn’t identify us as FBI.” Emily instructed, handing Reid his new, fake credentials and his gun she’d kept in her bag through customs. “Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.” Nancy nodded, the compound coming into view, the dust flurrying under the car wheels as the road turned into nothing more than a sandy path.

A guard seemed to be expecting their arrival as he stood, unarmed at the main gate, unlatching the bolt in the middle and opening it wide for their vehicle to pass through. She nodded in thanks, her eyes flicking out the dirty window to see a collection of mobile homes surrounding a large church, a few smaller outbuildings dotted around the compound. It was quiet, not full of laughter like the last group she had been to, the children nowhere to be seen, only a few of the handier members of the flock that were either fixing up walls, trimming trees besides a man sprawled too casually on the steps of the chapel, a bible in his hands he seemed to be catching up on.

The car pulled to a stop in front of the man that barely batted an eye at their arrival, the safety locks flicking off each of the doors, Nancy collecting her briefcase and exiting the car first.

She had all but reached for the handle when Emily stopped her, swivelling in her seat to look her dead in the eye.

“Your job is mediator, you got that?” Her sister had never looked more serious, but then again she did know her almost too well, “You and your field research are a… buffer between our investigation and the unsub. Just try to take the focus off what we’re doing, but do not provoke anyone,”

She raised her hands in innocence, “Got it, jeez, what could I possibly do that could ruin this investigation?”

Emily stared back at her blankly, unnamused, as if they both knew there was a lot she could, and would, do that would blow the whole thing.

“You look like mom when you give me that look,” She bit back, leaving the car, as Nancy spoke to the man laying on the steps, “It’s terrible,”

“I’m looking for Mr Benjamin Cyrus?” Nancy reported, her tight, knee length skirt and blouse entirely out of place amongst the dirt track.

“You found him,” The man replied, still not so much as granting them a glance of interest as he flicked through his passages.

“I’m Nancy Lunde, we spoke on the phone regarding the allegation,” She replied, which was the only thing that garnered his attention as he looked up at them behind slightly bent reading glasses.

“Savages they call us; because our manners differ from theirs,” He said, though it was clear it wasn’t entirely his own words, more likely a segment of his preach he’d repeated a handful of times. Bugsy tried to hide her disgust behind her hand tightening around her lab books she kept tightly to her chest.

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr Cyrus,” Nancy snipped as he approached the group, pocketing the glasses though he kept hold of the bible in hand as if it was part of his own arm.

“Actually it’s Benjamin Franklin,” Spencer murmured to the woman, which had Cyrus’ cold brown eyes narrowing at the tall man, assessing for a motive.

“Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid. They’re child victim interview experts,” Nancy introduced them quickly, the two of them flashing their badges, the unofficial ones at least. Gesturing to the youngest woman, she introduced her with her real name, his gaze flicking to her as he seemed to recognise it.

“Marina’s friend? The plant lady?” He asked, face half amused as she fought her lip from twitching into a sneer. Instead she smiled, holding out her hand.

“That’s what they call me,” She said, shaking his hand, ignoring the way he flashed her a cheshire cat smile, “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by, Marina said I could take some samples for my research,”

He laughed, shaking his head, looking at Spencer, “Women and their flowers, right?” Spencer swallowed back a retort, shrugging his shoulders, though Bugsy’s eye twitched. Benjamin patted her on her shoulder, “Of course you can honey, I’ll find Jared, our head gardner, and you can run along for your research,”

He said it as if she were lying, that her degree and endless hours of work would only ever chalk up to a few doodles in a notebook, or a garden full of hydrangeas, or tulips, or roses, because she couldn’t possibly care about anything else but pretty flowers.

Nodding her head graciously, choking back the hateful response she wished to spit in his face, she gave him a polite thankyou, feeling Spencer’s eyes burning into the side of her head.

“The children are in the school as I indicated,” Cyrus said, turning back to the other three, Emily and Nancy taking off in the direction he pointed, the former knowing her sister was at risk of blowing a fuse if they were here for long.

Spencer hung back, partially because he had a plan of distraction in mind to allow the women a chance to speak with the children whilst Cyrus wasn’t around, partially because he didn’t want to leave Bugsy anywhere on her own. Sure, Emily had said they were both trained in self defence when they were kids, but with no weapon of her own, he was reluctant.

“You're using solar power?” He prompted, gesturing towards where the eight blue panels warmed under the Colorado sun.

“We’re completely self-sufficient,” Benjamin nodded along, catching the impressed look on both their faces, “Electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said ‘God helps those that help themselves,’ you look surprised,”

“No, impressed actually,” Spencer replied, and he wasn’t entirely lying. The system was incredibly complex, particularly if they received no help from outsiders, for as many people as there were in the compound.

“Thankyou; for admitting that,” Cyrus said earnestly, flicking his gaze back to Bugsy who studied the solar panels, “I’ll go find Jared, he can take you to the greenhouses,”

Thanking him again, he led the way towards the school where Nancy and Emily had headed, as the two of them exchanged a look, Spencer smiling half piteously, wishing he could shake her and tell her just how smart she was and that Cyrus knew absolutely nothing.

He didn’t miss the way she walked closer to him, or how she thumbed the corner of her notebook, or how she looked back at him, biting the inside of her cheek. He thinks he might get slapped if he pointed it out, but Emily had the exact same tell when she was nervous, which is why he bumps their shoulders together in means of reassuring her he was still there.

It was only then she gave him any sort of smile back.

Jared, as expected, had been just as condescending and patronising as Benjamin whilst she slipped on her latex gloves, scooping no more than a handful of homemade fertiliser into one of her test tubes. It had been a partial cover, their story, but she had been telling the truth when she’d contacted Marina and asked if she could drop by. She’d been meaning to expand her field research in hopes of stumbling on a job opportunity since she spent most of her postgraduate days reading while her cat pawed at her leg for more treats than he deserved, the odd phone call with her sister much more common than it had been before.

She didn’t miss the way Jared’s hand fell into the small of her back as he led her back towards the school, after having noted down a few more readings, fussing over the state of the carrots that seemed to grow entirely naturally thanks to the systems they’d been smart enough to set up. He seemed rather bored by the whole thing, for a head gardener, more interested in staring at her legs as she leaned down to identify the fat black beetle that crawled along the rockery.

It wasn’t until they were halfway to the school that the sound of tyres on a dirt path met her ears, and she saw five armoured SUVs out the corner of her eye.

She hadn’t even the time to question what was going on, before Jared’s face dropped, the hand gently holding the soft of her back grabbing on her forearm hard enough to leave bruises, as he was dragging her to the chapel they had seen when they had pulled up.

Emily had said the rest of the team stayed in Quantico, if it wasn’t them, who was it.

“Whats going on- who is that?” She asked him lamely, her feet stumbling as she half fought his heavy hand off.

That was when the shooting started.

She thinks it came from the compound first, she’d seen two men stationed on top of one of the outbuildings, thinking nothing much of it, until she saw clearly now the assault rifles they bore, pointing it straight at the vehicles that drew closer. The whistle of bullets, bangs of the chambers emptying their artillery, and it wasn’t until she heard the doors to the SUVs start opening, more gunfire began hitting the wall ahead of them that she started running. Running fast, for the cover the church provided until she figured out just what the fuck was happening.

Jared all but threw her past the chapel door, where Cyrus and four other men were waiting, a heavy barricade in their hands, her chest pounding with adrenaline, she couldn’t help the yelp that left her as Cyrus whirled on her, grabbing her shoulders firmly and looking her dead in the eye.

“Did you know anything about this?” He asked, his calm demeanour cracking when she scrambled for a response, “ANSWER ME,”

“No-no not at all.” She shook her head, voice weaker than she’d like, but the sight of more guns in the men’s hands twisted any resolve she had, “Where are the others- the- the experts-”

“Take her into the tunnels,” Cyrus ignored her question, nodding at one of his men to grab her as Jared armed himself. She felt another callused hand yank on her upper arm, and part of her wondered if that was how men handled all women here, as if they were herding cattle, as she was dragged down into the catacombs below the church.

They’d made plans for a day like this to come, she realised.

Her heart constricted at the sound of bullets rattling above them, she hadn't been able to tell in that last moment whether Cyrus believed her or not as, nor whether she was being taken to the tunnels for her own safety or to be questioned harder about the gunmen.

She could only hope Emily was safe.

She felt her tongue too big for her mouth as the man all but shoved her into the bunker, the nervous chatter of women and children, some of the more elderly men, as they clung to one another for safety, the scathing remark she would have usually made about his heavy hands failing her as she scanned the room for her sister.

Emily was faster however, and she nearly yelped again as two bony arms yanked her into a hug, a rare one, and she knew by the blazer and the sigh of relief in her ear it was Em.

Usually she would bat her off, tell her to stop fussing like a mother hen, but today she embraced her right back, trying to note if her sister had any bullet holes in her before she allowed herself the same relief.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Emily asked, the whole thing coming out in a slew of worry, and she nodded, pulling away as if she needed to see the proof in person.

Bugsy’s eyes were wild, as if she were a doe in a meadow hearing a rifle cocking near. No scratch that, she was a doe being chased and shot at and hunted, narrowly escaping being mounted on a wall.

“They were all shit shots,” Bugsy said, through a laugh she didn’t quite mean, “You would have done much better.”

Patting her sister on the shoulder, Emily finally released her when she realised the humour meant she at least had her head on her shoulders. Spencer watched her with meticulous eyes, knowing the shock that registered on her face, knowing it was the same one he wore when he first had shots fired at him. He saw her own eyes quickly check him over, satisfied with a breath of relief when she saw they were both fine.

“Where’s Lunde?” Emily asked, and she realised then Cyrus had followed her down into the shelter, two of his men grabbing handfuls of guns she had never seen before, likely imported out of country, and returning to the ground level, preparing for more shooting.

“It wasn’t us,” Cyrus replied, as if that negated the fact their recklessness had gotten the agent killed.

“What? You can’t shoot it out with the cops, you have children in here,” Emily seethed, her voice harsh and incredulous.

“I didn’t start this,” Cyrus bit back, looking towards his men as they grabbed boxes on boxes of ammunition, “I’ll take the front, you take the roof,”

And with that they stormed their way back through the tunnels, leaving the three of them to look between each other, knowing this could only end badly. Knowing the only people that could figure out how to get them out of this mess was the BAU, all 1,700 miles away.

–

They’d been in the bunker for fourteen hours when there was finally movement. The shooting seemed to have quietened down, in which Spencer whispered it was around 11pm and it was likely neither party had a clear shot. She’d managed to fall asleep leaning against the wall, Emily’s blazer draped over her legs. She’d regretted wearing cropped pants, despite how the shade of green complimented her eyes nicely, and she’d been shivering by the time she fell asleep, Emily’s hands stroking her hair gently as if she knew she was struggling to relax.

She hadn’t realised she was staring at her little sister, frowning even as she slept, which made part of her want to laugh, until she caught Spencer’s tired eyes looking between them, something knowing and warm in his gaze.

“You know, she’s always scowled in her sleep, ever since she was born,” Emily said, quiet enough it didn’t interrupt the hum of small snores, the odd baby cry that filled the bunker, but loud enough for him to smile at her, “She used to sleep walk terrible too. I’d find her in the kitchen trying to make pancakes with a cheese grater. It’s like that big brain of hers doesn’t know how to shut off,” Emily shook her head with a fatigue, rubbing her eyes.

“Was it weird? Being fourteen years older?” Spencer asked, his own hands shoved into his sleeves to try defend from the draught. Emily thought for a moment, her hand slowing for a second on her sister's hair, before she answered.

“I felt guilty leaving her in that house with my mom when I went to college,” Emily answered, Bugsy unconsciously tucking her face closer into the jacket, “I think part of her kind of hated me for it for a while.” She went quiet, the shame in her voice thick as the silence that encompassed them, “She’s never been very affectionate you know? Before her graduation I don’t think I’d hugged her in twelve years,”

Spencer held himself back from pointing out that she had been just as touchy with him since they’d met, and that maybe it was Emily’s own regret that seemed to shut the both of them down. He wasn’t one to rub salt in the wound, not since he’d gotten this job and learned to watch what he said.

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to give her advice, knowing the whole subject of their slowly repairing relationship was a sore one. He had no siblings of his own, had a mother who loved him despite how much she grappled with her own mind, and he had only known the girl briefly enough to consider her a friend at a push.

“I always thought the two of you were similar,” Emily chose to continue, offering him a small smile. He returned it, his face blushing at the fact that was a huge compliment to him, “Granted, you roll your eyes at me less and don’t act like I’m dumb, but you remind me of her,”

“Thankyou, I wish that were true,” He replied, eyes flicking to her sleeping form, the way her eyebrows were indeed scrunched in a permanent frown. He wondered if she was actually angry, or if she was just thinking hard, perhaps her dreams were full of equations or labs she needed to sort through. Either way, he wanted to know. “She’s much cooler than I’ll ever be,”

Emily snorted, shuffling against the wall to cosy herself, “That’s one way to put it,” She said, smiling over at him as he did the same, his head resting against the wall, Bugsy’s legs stretching out to knock against his feet, and he didn’t mind that she scuffed the bottom of his already dirty trousers. “Get some sleep,”

And so they did.

–

Cyrus had corralled the whole flock into the church, where the shooting had stopped and the bodies had been removed, stating at the break of dawn that there was a hostage negotiator coming in to make sure everyone was safe before they made any deals.

She sat next to Spencer, the three of them stiff from their sleeping arrangements, and her stomach churned with hunger. It had been over 24 hours since they’d gotten here, and besides the small bit of bread and water Cyrus gave everyone for breakfast, she was starving.

“Remind me to never leave the house, ever again,” She grumbled, as everyone waited in the pews for the negotiator to arrive, “My cat is gonna be pissed I’ve not fed him,”

“Since when did you get a cat?” Emily inputted from the other side of Reid, keeping one eye on the door in case any agents start shooting again.

The girl shrugged, “I got lonely, there’s not much to do now I’m not studying anymore,”

Reid watched how she clutched her stomach, feeling his own complaining at the lack of nutrition, “Morgan wasn’t lying when he said you should sign up for the academy. We could always use the help, we wouldn’t have solved that case in Baltimore without you,”

She snickered, nudging his foot with her boot, “You’re being modest, you would have done it just fine,”

He was a little, wasn’t surprised she called his bluff either. “Okay, so probably yes- but it would have taken us a whole lot longer. Mr Chernus likely would have died,”

She shook her head, glancing at Emily who watched her carefully, “That was all you guys. I just translated.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged a glance, leaning back in their uncomfortable seats calmly.

“You’re probably right,” Spencer said, dusting the dirt off his trousers, “Probably couldn’t handle it, high intensity mind games and such,”

She blanched, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head, not knowing him to be so brutally honest, realistic yes, but not bordering on rude.

“And it’s a lot of work,” Emily jumped in, her mouth a straight line, “I don’t know if you’d be dedicated enough,”

Bugsy scoffed, indifferently. “I have a masters degree, I was offered a scholarship to do a PHD, asked to be an assistant professor at Yale, I can work hard, Emily,” She snipped, and perhaps she was particularly just hangry or they had struck a nerve with their doubt, “and I could do it if I wanted to, I’d have the best shot they’d ever seen, guaranteed- mom made me take lessons when you left- trust me I could do it-”

She shut up when she saw their small smile exchanged, as if she’d told them a joke, or moreso they’d had the same identical thought and that alone was hilarious.

Scowling at them, she looked from where Spencer looked almost, almost, guilty at making her the butt of the joke, to where Emily had a ‘told you so’ smirk, and she kissed her teeth at their childishness.

“Are you guys reverse psychology-ing me? Seriously, so original guys,” She snapped, crossing her arms and straightening herself in her seat, ignoring the snigger that passed between them.

“You’re not wrong though,” Emily replied quietly as Cyrus walked past them, his eyes falling to them with a frown. Bugsy kept her head down, heeding Emily’s warning of not provoking anyone, and Spencer eyed the way she leaned closer to him.

If she was going to retaliate, whether agreeing or not, she stopped herself, the doors the church opening and an older gentleman walking through the doors, arms full of supplies she’d figured must have been part of the negotiation. He was patted down by an armed guard, searching for his own weapons do doubt, or a wire perhaps, as he handed the box over to another who took it without a thankyou.

“Rossi,” She heard Reid whisper beside her, and from the look he shot Emily and Spencer she gathered he was from the BAU, just as they’d expected. His eyes fell on her, softening as alot of Emily’s team did when they saw the two of them, as if they were picking her face apart for the tiny ways in which she resembled their Prentiss, or maybe it was the way she curled up in her seat, tired, hungry, on the defence. He just looked sorry for her.

“The children,” Cyrus said with no greeting, the air between them particularly frosty. He gestured towards the three of them, though Rossi had already clocked their tired faces staring at him with worry, “And our guests,”

She saw him trying not to react, guessing they had not let it slip to Cyrus he worked with the two undercover FBI agents, looking away from them as if the sight of their forlorn figures was enough to turn him sick.

Judging by the way Cyrus and he spoke quietly, tensely, Bugsy just hoped they had a plan to get them out of here soon as he soon left with a rigid handshake to the man keeping them hostage.

–

The three of them had been moved to a backroom a few hours later. Her stomach ached, the little sustenance Rossi had brought being distributed to the community before they’d been offered anything, which hadn’t left much. Reid and Emily had tried to get her to take some of their sharing, and despite how her insides cried out for it, she declined, stating they would be more use than she would; that they needed their strength more than her if they were going to get out of here alive.

The two of them hadn’t liked that answer judging by the frowns on their faces, but they sat in their seats with little fuss as they waited for things to quieten down after Cyrus’ staged “mass suicide” that had turned out to be nothign more than a test of loyalty and grape juice.

They had been sat in silence, aside from her foot bouncing on the floor impatiently, as she picked at the threads on her pants, the material uncomfortable on her skin after a day of wearing it. The door slammed open, Cyrus entering the room with nasty scowl. She didn’t know what had changed in the man in a matter of hours as he stormed over to them, two of his men behind him, loaded rifles in their arms.

This was not good.

“Which one of you is it?” He asked almost too calm for his demeanour, his eyes flicking between the three of them, where Emily attempted to brush her hair using her fingers, Reid played with the hem of his cardigan, an she sat beside him, resting against the cold stone wall behind them, her eyes narrowing at his furious expression.

The three of them remained silent, waiting for him to explain more, though clearly it was not the answer he was looking for as he threw his jacket open, revealing a loaded pistol tucked into his jeans. Drawing it into his dominant hand, her body tensed up, her back straightening like a rod as she looked up at him through fear.

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?” He repeated in that same calm tone, and her heart fell through her stomach.

She opened her mouth to say something in retaliation, though the way she saw his hand shaking with fury, she knew it was better to stay quiet in case her voice would be the final straw that made him trigger happy.

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer replied softly, and if he was panicking even a fraction amount she was he held it back, though his eyes flicked to Emily.

But it was a tell. The smallest movement alone was a tell he was lying, or perhaps it was the fact he’d answered a question with one of his own, distracting from the attention on them with the unsubs own answers. Maybe his quiet and calm showed how trained he was for a situation like this, showed he had gone up against bad guys before and won.

Whatever it was about him, it had Cyrus cocking the barrel of the gun straight at Spencer’s temple.

“God forgive me for what I must do,” The preacher murmured, his finger moments away from the trigger, when she lurched forward in her seat, hand shooting out to grab his wrist deathly tight.

“It’s me,”

She hadn’t realised she’d said it until the room went quiet. She thought for a moment it had come from Emily, Emily had always been the braver of the two of them, but it wasn’t until Cyrus’ unforgiving, dark gaze fell to her where she froze in her spot, that she understood her mouth had been the one moving.

Emily looked as if she was about to vomit, Spencer looked dumbfounded, but all she could do was stare back at Cyrus as if to will herself not to back down, knowing all three of them could fall victim if she gave them reason to doubt her; he could kill all three of them just to be sure the mystery agent was dealt with.

“It’s me,” She repeated, voice stronger this time, and she felt her chest relax just the tiniest amount as he turned the gun away from Spencer’s head.

He stared back at her for a moment, before the weapon smacked across her face in a sharp whip, her cheekbone crying out in a sting she knew was going to bruise.

He grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck, yanking her into a stand hard enough she yelped, despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the torture.

“Watch the other two,” Cyrus barked, dragging her out of the room as she squirmed under his hand, feeling it only tighten into an unforgiving pull.

She barely caught Emily bolting out of her seat to yell at the other men, all but fighting in their heavy grasp to follow wherever it was he was taking her, only for the door to be slammed shut behind them.

It was only then she realised how fucked she truly was.

–

She struggled to breath through the blood clotting in her nose. She didn’t think it was broken, not that she could check where her hands had been tied to the bedpost, tape over her mouth to stop her calling for help, her feet bound. She’d done nothing but give him hell as he’d been laying into her, keeping her cries and groans of pain silent as he’d kicked her in the ribs hard enough to know he’d damaged something at least.

She’d not made it easy for him to tie her down, worried about what they were planning next, she’d managed to headbutt him in the mouth, and the way he clutched at his jaw when he’d left gave her a sick satisfaction, though her temple now hurt more than she’d like to admit. But they’d only covered her mouth after she’d screamed obscenities at them for an hour or so, hoping to attract attention, hoping if the BAU were on their way, Emily and Reid would be able to find her fast before they could dispose of her.

Bugsy didn’t want to go like this. Tied up like cattle, gagged and beaten, the spirit kicked out of her as the dehydration gnawed at her limbs, making her too weak to even try wriggling out of the binds.

She felt herself dropping off to sleep, or maybe it was a concussion, he’d slammed her face into that mirror quite viciously, she wouldn’t be surprised if it had rattled her head around. Fighting with her eyelids to stay open, she jumped in her battered skin as the door unlatched, and she thrashed on the rickety bed to get away from the impending second beating.

But it wasn’t Cyrus. A fawn haired woman entered, her eyes falling on the girl on the bed, where blood trickled down her cheek, pouring from her nose like a thick liquor. Frowning, she was on high alert as the woman approached, a small, damp cloth in her hand.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you honey,” She hushed, approaching the young girl. Bugsy didn’t believe her for one second, her head pulling away from her as far as it could, her eyes wild and distrustful as the woman kneeled down beside the bed. “I’m Kathy,”

Bugsy debated jabbing an elbow in her face then and there, telling her in few words to stay as far away from her as possible, that the moment she was free she didn’t care who she hurt; she was getting out of here even if she had to crawl.

“That woman’s your sister right?” The blonde said, and the words stopped her heart for a moment, giving the woman the chance to run the cloth over the dribble of blood, “Emily,”

“Where is she?” She tried to ask, but the gag made it little more than a muffled cry, the woman’s eyes turning down in sadness. Pity. Bugsy hated every second of it.

“She’s okay, she’s worried about you though,” Kathy said, wiping under her nose, making her wince at the feeling, “Put up a hell of a fight after they took you away,”

She must have rolled her eyes, or perhaps it was just telling on her face that that didn’t surprise her as the older woman wiped over the superficial cut on her forehead she hadn’t realised was deep until the cloth went over it and she yawped like a dog having it’s tail pulled.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Kathy cooed, and she seemed genuinely guilty as she did. She tutted, shaking her head, fighting the urge to smooth the girls hair down the way she did when her own daughter was upset, “Emily said they’ll be coming for us at 3am, Cyrus has a mass suicide planned but they think they can stop him, you just have to hold on a little longer honey,”

“I want to see her,” Bugsy tried to talk again despite her mouth being covered, only for it to come out unintelligible once more. Huffing, she resigned herself to glaring at the ceiling, biting back frustrated tears. Kathy seemed to want to say something else, but thought better of it as the twenty something year old turned away from her to stare out the window, as if she were being dismissed.

Sighing, she rose from the bed and headed for the door, praying the FBI would get them out in time, before Cyrus put his plan into action.

–

Bugsy didn’t start panicking until it hit 2:50. She’d managed to kick the small analogue clock on the beside into working, the red numbers seeming to take a millenia to change over.

Yet it wasn’t until 3am neared, and the hallways remained silent, did she start to wonder if Kathy had been telling the truth at all. What if they had found out Emily and Reid were FBI and not her? What if they’d already been caught?

She really had wanted to see Emily, wanted to scream at the woman, who had meant well, to bring her sister to her or she would make every damn bible basher in this compound regret the day they were born. She felt helpless. She despised feeling helpless.

It was only when she heard shots rattling from outside did the cold fear set in. 2:52. Any minute now.

It was then an even worse thought struck her. What if they didn’t bother to come for her? Reid and Emily were safe downstairs, at least that was how Kathy had made it seem. If they got the women and children, the agents out first, she wondered if they would leave her for last since she wasn’t their top priority.

2:53 stared back at her.

At least Emily would make it. She was more important, had more going for her. She was supposed to be an only child anyway, mom had said it herself. Bugsy was the product of a failing marriage and a shared bottle of 1896 Bourbon that had been a wedding gift they’d never opened.

2:54.

She could have sworn she tore something the way her head snapped to the door as it swung open on its hinges, as if two large men had thrown their weight into it. But it wasn’t two men at all, just one frantic Derek Morgan with an FBI grade assault rifle.

The relief in his eyes was immediate, and he pulled a pocket knife from his boot, rushing over to where she lay, almost in shock, wondering if he was real at all, her heart pounding as she heard shouting in the corridor.

“I’m gonna get you out, kid,” The man promised, slinging his gun over his shoulder as he sliced through the rope on her ankles, her eyes trained on the 2:55 that watched them as if to laugh at them.

She whimpered, cursing behind her gag when she heard footsteps pounding through the hallway, and she was sure they were going to get caught. She thought then it would have been better if they’d forgotten about her, that at least Derek would have been safe, and he could have made sure the children got out safely, could have gotten Spencer and Emily medical.

Derek whirled on the doorway the same as she did as a tall figure all but skidded around the corner, his legs weak as hers felt, too long and not at all built for running. Clumsy almost.

Spencer. She should have known from the way he looked white as a sheet the moment he saw her it was him, but maybe she really did have concussion, as it seemed within moments he was fussing over her face, tearing a little too sharply at the tape over her mouth.

She thinks she groaned, or maybe cursed him out, as he started apologising immediately, his eyes a puppy kind of sad as she stared up at him, Derek handing him the knife to cut her arms free.

He was talking, but she couldn’t make a lot of it out, just that he was really sorry, it was 2:56 now. It was like her brain switched itself back on when she realised she was free, and the two of them were trying to haul her to her feet.

“Come on, princess, we gotta get out of here,” Derek said, as Spencer looped an arm around her waist, helping her limp across the room where her weak limbs did little to hold her upright, her ribs throbbing with every step, “We managed to stop Cyrus from detonating it manually, but the circuits are all still live,”

Morgan took the lead with the rifle, knowing some of Cyrus’ men had stayed to look for them, that they would go down with the building even though he’d already shot their leader the moment they’d breached the front door, because that was how loyal they were. They’d proven so already with the wine.

She kept her groans behind tight lips as they made it down the stairs, knowing Spencer didn’t mean to hold her bruised bones so tight, that he was just worried and her legs were doing the bare minimum to keep them both moving very fast. It wasn’t until they made it within a few feet of the door that they seemed to pick up the pace.

And she saw why.

Jesse, Cyrus’ child bride that had been the reason they’d come here in the first place was holding the detonator, her face tear streaked at the sight of her husband and prophet dead on the floor, the people responsible all but dragging a lame girl through the foyer and to the doors as if they hadn’t killed a handful of her flock tonight.

Bugsy saw the moment Jesse decided she wanted vengeance on them, but then, she guessed Spencer had already acted as he slung one of her arms over his shoulder, yanking her out the front door in a matter of seconds as Morgan pulled up the rear, and the two men shoved her down behind the small wall outside the church steps.

Bugsy expected the bang to be louder as the rubble flew over their heads, the floor shaking with the impact of the bomb detonating, and it was then she realised one of Derek’s large warm hands held her head into his shoulder, protecting her already rattled skull as best as he could. Spencer had done the same, throwing half his body over her back as he covered his ears, the two men tucking into the wall tightly and waiting for the dust to settle.

Spencer started coughing first, though his position over her never faltered, and she heard his chest wheezing, and knew they needed to move away from the thick smog that blew into their faces. Morgan released her ear, tipping her head back to check her over once more.

“Kid! You okay?” He fretted, noticing the way her nose had started bleeding again from all the movement; the way the bruise had already started blotching her cheek from where Cyrus pistol whipped her.

“I didn’t think you’d come for me,” Was all she could say, and Derek thought it was the saddest he’d ever heard her.

Reid was pulling her to her feet then, where he was still hovering over her, despite the fact the blast had already cleared, still sputtering and hocking up a lung, but it didn’t stop her from throwing herself at his middle, burying her face in his dusty sweater, not caring one bit if he jostled her aching ribs.

He was trying to be gentle with her as he squeezed her back, but she knew by the way he pressed his face into her hair he needed it just as badly.

“You saved my life,” He said, his long arms wrapping around her waist, hauling her whole body against his.

She laughed through a cough, their cheeks brushing past one another as she pulled him in tighter, thankful, relieved.

“You saved mine,”

And then she heard Emily. Emily, who sounded frantic and heartbroken as she called for her, her voice breaking as if she was crying, or atleast on the verge of, and as comforting as Spencer’s long arms around her cracked ribs were, she needed to see her sister was okay.

Ripping herself from his embrace immediately, she tore off after the sound, and there she was. Her older sister, who had always seemed immovable, like she wouldn’t so much as budge for a bucking horse, like water couldn’t drown her, or however many unsubs she’d faced could stop her from catching them. Her older sister, who looked like she’d taken a few punches of her own, judging by the blood on her blue blouse, that looked around the crowd of fleeing people with watery eyes and a shaking bottom lip.

“EMILY,” She yelled, her voice a bleat, a lamb calling for its mother, as she sprinted down the steps, whatever strength she had left carrying her to where Emily was rushing towards her, taking the stairs in threes, “EM-”

She crashed into her sister’s chest, and it was only then she started crying.

“I swear I’ll never give you trouble again, I’ll never talk back, I’ll never be a bitch ever again-” It was all a slew of mumbles against her sisters shirt, that was beginning to wet through at the rate the tears were coming, “I thought he was going to shoot you-”

“I was so scared, Bug, oh my god,” Emily murmured into her hair, squeezing the life out of her baby sister that sniffled and sobbed, “You don’t ever, ever do that to me again,”

Bugsy shook her head, clawing at Emily’s back as she pulled her closer, feeling Emily stroking her hair softly to calm her even in the slightest. They stayed like that until she managed to wrangle her sobs into little sniffs, the fire burning her eyes where it burned the rest of the church to ashes.

She stayed with Emily for a month after that.

+4. The one where you leave the altar.

She knew she was turning heads, walking down the street of a drizzly day in Virginia, hair wet and sticking to her face, makeup running down her cheeks, and the sodden, dove white wedding dress clasped in her hands as she paced towards the government building.

Whether the guards recognised her as the Ambassador’s daughter, or whether they really didn’t want to get into it with a bride looking like that on her day, she didn’t know, but they opened the door for her nonetheless, exchanging raised brows as a trail of wet followed her gown over the marble floors.

Heading up the desk, she flashed her driver's licence, which was enough to gain her a visitors pass she didn’t bother putting to use as she headed for the elevator, her ballet pumps squeaking under the body of the dress. Waiting for the doors to start closing when she finally let a few tears slip, burying her face into her cold, drenched palms, undoubtedly making the mess of mascara even worse.

Her heart gave a leap when she heard someone stop the doors, hoping she could get to her sister with little delay, and she quickly wiped her face with whatever was left of her pretty, dobby cloth shawl she had yanked on before she’d ran.

Whatever excuse she was about to give, whatever one liner she was about to drop to clear the awkwardness this agent was about to walk in on was sucked out of her when she saw Spencer staring at her, his briefcase in his hands he’d used to hold the doors, a wide eyed look plastered on his face as soon as he saw her state.

“Bugsy,” It was somewhere between surprise and sadness, jumping into the elevator before the metal could shut again, the button for the sixth floor already lit up in a ring of red, “What are you- I didn’t even know…”

“Spencer!” As seemed to be a common occurrence between them now, she threw two very cold arms over his shoulders, tugging him for a hug he quickly reciprocated, feeling like she needed it in the moment, “It was so awful, I just couldn’t all those people staring at me, and he- I just feel so-”

“Hey slow down,” He soothed, slipping his favourite cardigan off his body to put over her shoulders, ignoring the way he cringed as it quickly got sodden, “Let’s get you to Emily, I’m sure we can fix this,”

She nodded, though he could tell she was still shaken up, the elevator dinging to a stop on the fifth floor where an agent looked ready to step in, his face dropping when he saw the sight.

“Sorry, we’re full,” Spencer said, with little room for discussion, pressing the button to close the doors once more, and taking her by the elbow as she began shivering, “We’re gonna be just fine, you look beautiful,”

She laughed sadly with a roll of her eyes, the tears sticking to her cheeks. She knew she looked no better than a drowned rat, windswept and disgruntled, her dress full of muck from the street.

“Thankyou, Spencer,” She mumbled, the door sliding open to the sixth floor, where Penelope and her everlasting smile greeted her favourite boy genius.

She almost dropped her glitter pen when she saw the woman stood next to him looking like Dorothy dragged through the twister.

“Oh you poor little lamb, what has happened to you honey!” She all but cried, the cute little pom poms in her hair bouncing as she brought Bugsy closer, taking her hands tightly. “Your hands are ice! You’ll catch cold with that wet hair, and your gorgeous dress-”

“Garcia,” Spencer cut her off, though the woman didn’t seem to mind being manhandled into the kind grip, he guessed her state had her letting her guard down, “This is Bugsy, Emily’s little sister.”

Penelope gasped, her ponytails swishing around some more, the gems on her glasses as bright as the light in her eyes as she yanked the younger girl in for a tight hug.

“It is so nice to meet you! Emily talks about you all the time,” She said, pulling away and fumbling through her pockets for her fresh pink handkerchief she always carried around, mopping up the girl's eyeliner.

“She-she does?” Bugsy asked, sniffling, her body trembling as the AC beat down through the water ladened on her body.

“Of course she does, come on, let’s go get you coffee, I have a new machine in my office that makes the best espresso-” Garcia grabbed her hand as if they were kids in the playground, as if she’d known the girl years, which she sort of had. She had, of course, stalked every single one of Emily’s known relatives, even a distant cousin that never left Europe, and that had thrown up the quiet corner of the internet that Bugsy took up.

“I needed to talk to my sister, if that’s okay,” Bugsy braved enough to say, the swishing of her dress on the carpet making her wince, practically hearing the gallon of rain that soaked the expensive fabric.

“Ofcourse! How silly of me, I’ll bring it out right to you, little bug. You just go with Spencer,” Handing him the handkerchief, she set off towards her ‘bat cave’ in search of a hot beverage for the shivering woman, “Spencer, clean her makeup!”

He did as he was told, dabbing the water off her face as he led her to the BAU, where Emily and Morgan sat on their desks, chatting as they finished off lunch, Emily flicking through photos on her phone of baby Henry that JJ had sent over to her that morning from maternity leave.

“He’s just the sweetest little boy, he’s got the biggest blue eyes just like Jayj,” She said through a smile, “You know Will even said-”

“Holy shit-” Morgan cut her off, and she glanced at him, wondering about his use of a curse. Following his eyes over her shoulder, she swivelled in her position to see where Spencer led a very wet, shaken version of her little sister through the doors of the BAU, a snowy ball gown hanging off her, a veil clinging to her hair that had seen much better days.

“Holy shit,” She agreed, immediately darting for the girl that tugged Spencer’s cardigan tighter to her body, “Bugsy,”

“Emily, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t take up too much time- I just couldn’t do it- and I know mom’s always saying ‘Bring home a doctor, bring home a rich man,’ but I just couldn’t no matter how rich his daddy is, he wasn’t even too bad-” It all came out in a slur, not making too much sense, and she didn’t stop until Emily held up her hands, as if easing a wild dog.

“Woah, take it easy, kiddo,” Morgan hushed, as Emily brought a hand over her sister’s cheek, wiping away the last of the mascara, “What happened?”

Bugsy took a deep breath, looking between Emily and Derek, feeling the rain drip down her back.

“So a few weeks ago, Mom made me go to that stupid debutante ball,” She started, rolling her eyes already as Emily winced, knowing Elizabeth loved any excuse to dress her youngest up like a Barbie doll.

“I hated those things,” She confessed, shaking her head, “I thought you’d agreed you didn’t have to go to them anymore,”

“That was while I was in college, she said at least I could focus on my studies,” The girl explained, as Garcia tottered back through the office, a steaming cup of coffee in her beloved Bratz mug. Taking it from the chirpy woman, she took a deep gulp, not caring if it burned her mouth as she wished for the damn chill to go away, “Thankyou- But she made me go to this one on the condition she would pay off some of my college loans, and I was dumb enough to fall for her bribe,”

She huffed, taking another sip, her stomach warming with the hot liquid settling through her throat.

“You know how she is at these things, she knows everyone, and everyone knows her. I had four guys asking for my dance card within minutes of arriving there, it was like trying to walk through a dog pound wearing a meat suit, all the hand holding, trying to touch my waist- one guy even called me Madam Prentiss,” She grimaced, shuddering at the thought of it, “Madam? No one even calls mom that-”

“Focus,” Emily reminded gently, and she seemed to nod to herself, setting back on track.

“Right. And then he was there. Byron Hastings.” Bugsy said, wrapping her hands around the mug some more.

“Oh, isn’t he that super yummy bachelor that just inherited his fathers business?” Garcia jumped in, not noticing how it made her wince, “I hear his dad totally owns a bunch of shares in Facebook and as like just signed a deal with a new company that will change the future of computing-”

“Not now, baby girl,” Morgan said calmly, patting Penelope on her shoulder when she saw the bride’s crestfallen face.

“Right, sorry. Your turn, little bug,” She said, shaking her head and fiddling with her dozen rings.

“Yeah, that’s him.” She replied, running a slightly warmed finger over her eyelash where rain even collected there, “And you know, I wasn’t complaining, he was certainly easy on the eyes, and he smelled nice, like he just smelled rich, but man alive he was so boring,” She sighed, “I like computers as much as the next girl, no offence, but he didn’t once ask me what I was into or, and when I tried to bring up my degree he just patted me on the head and said ‘That’s nice’ like I was some child that had brought him a pretty colouring or something,”

“Ouch,” Emily grimaced, rubbing her arms over the cardigan to warm her up a little more, “And then?”

“And eventually, his dad and my mom cut a deal that we’d make a good pair. He said we could be married within the season, and suddenly everyone seemed up for it, and it was like no matter how hard I tried to dig my heels in, no one would listen, and mom just seemed so pleased with me-” She spluttered, sipping her drink to catch her breath, “I just let it happen and just thought, you know, maybe we could learn to like each other, or we could just be like mom and dad and separate in everything but paper,”

“It’s your life, who is she to tell you how you’re gonna live it,” Emily was outraged, the tip of her nose pink, her dark eyes stormy as her hands fell to her hips, huffing as if it had been her backed into a corner, “I can’t believe she would do this to you,”

“I was fine with it, really. It's not like its the fifteenth century when I’d be forced to consummate- anyway,” Bugsy rubbed her face, “I just got there, and mom put on my veil and told me I’d make a lovely Mrs Hastings, and just the sound of it- I couldn’t-”

“What on earth is going on?” A new voice cut through the BAU, and the group disbanded like kids caught trading answers to the homework. Rossi and Hotch stood by the unit chief’s office, brows furrowed at the wet bride and his team that tended to her as if she were a princess.

“Should we be expecting four wet bridesmaids too?” Rossi asked, the two of them making the steps down to the floor, approaching the guilty faced woman, noting Spencer’s cardigan wrapped over her shoulders.

“Nope, just me,” Her joke fell flat as she met the stony face of Aaron Hotchner, who looked thoroughly unimpressed, “Nice to see you again, Mr Hotchner, sir,”

His gaze slid to Emily, mouth opening to share whatever scathing remark bounced around his mouth, but the younger girl beat him to it, everyone’s eyebrows raising when she all but cut him off.

“This wasn’t on Emily, sir, I just showed up out of the blue, I can go- I’ll go- I just need to figure out where I’m staying since I left my purse at the church- don’t you worry I’ll be out of your hair, Aaro- sir,” Bugsy stammered, plonking the mug onto Emily’s desk, backing away to the doors of the office, clutching her visitor pass tight in her fist.

Maybe it was because she looked so hopeless, or maybe it was the way his team shot him the same look of horror he would be so regimental, or maybe even it was the fact part of her reminded him of Sean, only his brother wouldn’t have had the courtesy to apologise for his mess.

Sighing, he gestured her to come back, “Wait,” He said her name, her government name because the other one didn’t fit right in his mouth, “Reid, get her some clothes out your go bag. Emily, tell your mother she’s safe and will be staying in Quantico until you can figure something out,”

Heaving a sigh of relief, she launched her still sodden form at the chief, wrapping him in a stiff hug, bolder than anyone else on the team had ever dared to be.

“I swear to god, Mr Hotchner, the next letter you're getting will be the best one yet,” She mumbled into his hard chest, and he fought off the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Patting her on the back gently, he ignored the way his dress shirt wet through.

–

let me know what you think! mAYBE A FEW MORE PARTS COMING UP ??

Edit: This is a part one of 3 or 4 I have planned, thankyou so much for all the love on this I did not expect the reaction 🥺🥺

SECOND EDIT: part two and three are out now!! Have a look at the top where it says ‘next chpt and it’s there bbys!!

THIRD EDIT: we are now balls deep into this universe here's th link for the masterlist

#spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #Prentiss #prentiss!Reader #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #mathew grey gubler #Matthew grey gubler x reader

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checkeredflagggs · 4 months ago

Text

A Perfect Storm

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: meet dr. alice “barbie” sargaent, professional storm chaser

a/n: so twisters 2024 changed my life (glen powell in wet white T-shirt changed my life) so…here’s this. Also I got conflicting info about instagram so for here - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also plz suspend your disbelief - idk anything about storm chasing or tornadoes

Part 2

drbarbie

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 2,345,239 others

drbarbie: tbt to the very first storm I ‘chased’ and the lifelong obsession that it sparked within me!

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user1: you were so young!

teammember1: nice to know you’ve been crazy for years! 😂❤️

drbarbie: Passionate! The term is passionate 🩵

teammember2: no I think crazy is better

user2: ok but what are Logan Sargeant and Oscar Piastri doing in the likes…

user3: right?

user4: maybe they watch the Storm Wrangler YouTube channel?

user3: that would be the crossover of the century!

teammate3: awwww baby Dr. Barbie…

drbarbie: I think I made my dad drive around for hours trying to find where the rain was actually coming down

user4: ok that’s adorable

user5: newbie here 👋🏻 why the nickname Barbie?

drbarbie: I’m a 5’11” blonde woman with blue eyes who was in like every conceivable sport and after school program. Some butt starting calling me Barbie as a joke and now people forget my real name 😅

user6: wait your name isn’t actually Barbie? What’s real? What’s fake? Who knows? 🤣

drbarbie: yeah you can blame my twin for that…

loganpriv: you begged for weeks to get a cool nickname and were delighted! To tell people to call you Barbie.

alicepriv: shush 🤐

oscarpriv: oh really?

alicepriv: I said shut up?

user7: you have a twin?!

drbarbie: yup! I’m older then him by about 5 minutes - and I’ve never let him forget it 😂

loganpriv: and another lie! What’s up with that?

alicepriv: I’m gonna tell mom you’re bullying me!

loganpriv: do it! And I’ll tell her you’re lying to the internet

logansargeant

liked by alicepriv, oscarpiastri, and 1,023,677 others

logansargeant: traveling means time to catch up with TheStormWranglers

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user8: you’re a buckaroo too?! Love this!

oscarpiastri: watching the back episodes or the live stream?

logansargeant: back episodes first of course!

user9: ok but they’re both buckaroos too

user10: am i dumb? Buckaroos?

user11: kinda a you had to be there moment - during one of their first live streams teammate2 called everyone on the team buckaroos to get them moving and the fans just? kinda adopted the term for ourselves

user10: ohhhh ok. That makes sense and it’s so cute! Proud to be a buckaroo!

user12: this is gonna be your week Logan!

user13: yeah! Austin has always been really good to you! 🩵

alicepriv: so I’m gonna hold your hand when I say this…

loganpriv: what does that mean?

oscarpriv: Alice…

drbarbie

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 3,677,345 others

drbarbie: isn’t she a beaut! One of the biggest this year and I’m very happy to say Dolly (and us!) survived it!!! The opportunity to quite literally drive into the storm started as a fever dream from a few of the team members but we proved that it could be done. And this now allows us to gather even more important data — and as we always say, you can never have too much data!

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user14: Watching that almost gave me a heart attack oh my god

user15: i know! And they didn’t even give us any warning that it was something they could do!!!😡😢

drbarbie: We apologize! The team had been so excited and focused on getting Dolly ready for this that we forgot other people don’t live in our brains

user14: what even prompted this?

drbarbie: we were hitting bumps in the research process and as we were brainstorming ideas on how to fix it someone said that the easiest way was to…just go into the tornado. We said “bet” then figured out a way to allow us to do that safely!

teammember1: so I’m switching vehicles. I’m staying with the weather van from now on

drbarbie: oh it wasn’t that bad!

teammember1: I have about 200 new strands of grey hairs and a sore throat from all the screaming

drbarbie: like I said! Not that bad

user16: oh so you’re crazy crazy

drbarbie: we’re doing important research!

user17: what even was the point of all this?

drbarbie: my team and I are researching for a way that would allow us to stop a tornado in its tracks. We’re at the point where we can almost completely accurately predict when and where a tornado will hit — which is hugely important! Cause that allows us to save lives. But my team wants to take it a step further — to stop the storms when they do hit! To help protect people’s livelihoods

user17: holy shit! That’s huge!

user18: I didn’t even realize that is something that could be possible!

drbarbie: we believe strongly that it’s something that can be done. And we’re trying everything that we can to make it happen!

loganpriv: what the hell is this?!?

alicepriv: i told you you wouldn’t like it

oscarpriv: yes but there’s a huge difference between not liking it and it being completely INSANE

alicepriv: the theory was sound

loganpriv: this time - that’s not good enough

INCOMING CALL

ACCEPT OR DECLINE

TRANSCRIPT

What the hell Alice? Driving into a tornado?

Oh don’t even Logan! Not when the two of you drive those super speed death traps!

That’s not even remotely the same and you know it!

…I know. Ok I know…

Alice…

Don’t. I know I should have told you before but…

Barbs?

I know you don’t like this answer but the theory was sound. We reached out and talked to like 10 different universities on the best way to modify the car and took all the extra precautions we could. The science-

doesn’t lie…

Haha

…you’re ok?

I think my heart is still racing but yes. And it’s almost done!

What is?

Project Aeolus!

Really?

TRANSCRIPT CONTINUES

logansargeant

liked by alicepriv, alexalbon, oscarpiastri, and 627,933 others

logansargeant: ahhhh Austin, my home away from home. It’s always good to come back to you — and the people that live there 🩵

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user19: IS THAT A GIRL LOGAN HUNTER SARGEANT?

user20: are we soft launching now?

alexalbon: Did you get a puppy?

logansargeant: no 🤣 just pet sitting for the day! This is rascal!

alexalbon: i think it might be criminal if you don’t let me meet rascal!

logansargeant: I’ll ask! But it will probably have to be after COTA!

alexalbon: worth the wait!

user21: rascal? Like drbarbie’s newest puppy?

user22: no but that dog looks just like her new dog and we know that Logan is a buckaroo!

user21: I've connected the two dots

user23: You didn't connect shit

user22: I've connected them

user24: are my 2 fandoms colliding?

alicepriv: rascal!

loganpriv: i see how it is. I come back home and you just want me to watch the little nightmare

alicepriv: rascal is perfectly well behaved! You’re just a bad example

oscarpriv: I’m agreeing with her. We’ve had no problems with him until you came along…

loganpriv: lies and slander. Objection

alicepriv: law and order again logie?

williamsracing

liked by drbarbie, logansargeant, alexalbon, and 4,034,838 others

williamsracing: all smiles here at COTA as we welcome a special guest! Spending the weekend with us is Dr. Barbie, a meteorologist who specializes in tornadoes with a popular YouTube channel The Storm Wranglers!

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user25: DR BARBIE IN THE HOUSE!

user26: this is everything I didn’t know I needed holy crap

drbarbie: it’s always a pleasure to visit COTA! And it’s even better to visit one of my favorite teams!

williamsracing: so glad to have you here!

user27: ok but do you see the look on Logan’s face?

user28: yeah mans in love

user29: or…and hear me out…he could just be happy to meet her? We know he’s a fan of her channel

user28: no one is ever THAT happy to just “meet” a YouTuber, no matter how famous

logansargeant: Glad you could make time in your schedule to visit!

drbarbie: “But it's the Grand Prix!”

logansargeant: “Is it? Who's playing?”

drbarbie: “No one's playing. It's the Grand Prix. I never miss the Grand Prix.”

user28:…ok maybe you guys connected the dots

alexalbon: it was nice to meet you! Didn’t think I’d ever meet someone who had a more dangerous job then race driving though

drbarbie: same! It was such a pleasure — and don’t even. I’ll take my job over yours any day

alexalbon: really? You’d rather drive after and into tornados then drive in circles?

drbarbie: stupid circles! And yes. Yes I would

alexalbon: they’re not stupid!

user29: ok but they’re funny af

drbarbie

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 2,654,887 others

tagged: williamsracing, logansargeant, alexalbon

yourusername: trading in Dolly this weekend for some faster cars! Zoom zoom 🏎️💨

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user30: COTA! I’m at COTA! 🤞🤞 I might get to meet her and get her signature!

user31: oh my god! That would be the coolest thing ever

user32: you’re at a Grand Prix and meeting some stupid blonde is better?

user31: watch yourself! Dr Barbie is about 1000x better then you are you damn mouth breather

user30: mouth breather? 😂😂

user33: cool you’re at COTA but sargeant? You couldn’t pick literally any other driver to support?

drbarbie: and that’s you blocked. I don’t support hate on my page and I definitely don’t support hate against Logan

user31: you said it so well! Supportive queen!

loganpriv: cool your jets Alice. It’s fine

alicepriv: I don’t support hate but I do support bullying your unsupportive twin. Take that attitude and shove it

oscarpriv: sometimes I forget you’re twins and then I see you interact…

alicepriv: you watch yourself too. I’m soon to be in head smacking range…and I’m tall enough to get you

oscarpriv: yes ma'am

loganpriv: whipped

alicepriv: 🤨

loganpriv: 🤷🏼‍♂️

alicepriv: 🖕🏻

user34: ok but why Dolly?

drbarbie: why after the fabulous Dolly Parton of course

user35: you named your truck after Dolly Parton?

drbarbie: she’s had a lot of work done but she’s still the best

user35: 😂😂 icon behavior

logansargeant

liked by alexalbon, drbarbie, alicepriv, and 1,208,943 others

tagged: drbarbie, williamsracing

logansargeant: THANK YOU AUSTIN!! P3 baby! AND SPECIEAL THANKS TO MY YOUNGER TWIN SISTER ALICE drbarbie!!!

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user36: SISTER?

drbarbie: yes! He’s my YOUNGER twin brother!

logansargeant: the hell I am!

drbarbie: I HAVE PICTURE OF THE BIRTH CERTIFICATES YOU WET NOODLE

logansargeant: fake!

user36: ok that’s definitely a sibling relationship 😂

drbarbie: HE DID IT! P3!! CONGRATS LOGIE!

teammate1: woohoo! Go baby sargeant!

teammate2: congrats baby sargeant!

teammate3: could you feel us cheering for you baby sargeant?

teammate4: couldn’t be prouder baby sargeant!

logansargeant: not you guys too…

oscarpiastri: congrats man! A well deserved podium!

logansargeant: thanks brother!

user37: brother?!? dots are connecting again!

user38: oh give it up

alexalbon: great race today dude! Congrats!

logansargeant: thank you! You’ll be next!

williamsracing: Congrats Logan!

user39: he saw us shipping him with his sister and said hell no 😂😂

user40: right? Most definitely had to set the record straight!

danielricciardo: good job man!

charles_leclerc: great to share the podium with you!

maxverstappen1: good race!

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, alicepriv, landonorris, and 2,567,432 others

tagged: mclaren, landonorris

oscarpiastri: not the race we wanted today but we’ll come back stronger next week. Congrats on p4 landonorris and congrats to logansargeant on your first podium!

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user41: don’t worry about it Oscar! You’ll get it next week!

landonorris: thanks man! next week will be our week for sure!! papaya rules!

oscarpiastri: for sure! Papaya rules!

user42: it might not have been your week but that overtake lap 12 was INSANE

user43: right? Pretty sure I woke my dog up screaming

alicepriv: it was a good race babe. Glad to have been there to see it 🧡🧡

oscarpriv: you know I always love it when you can come to a race

alicepriv: and you know I always love watching you working for your dream

oscarpriv: 🧡

loganpriv: cheesy

alicepriv: 🖕🏻

alicepriv: anyway…

alicepriv: maybe I can get you to come to my job next? 😆😘

oscarpriv: your job at the universities? Yes. Your job in the field? No way in hell

logansargeant: great race brother! Taking notes on that overtake man

oscarpiastri: thanks Logan!

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, drbarbie, landonorris, and 3,728,899 others

tagged: drbarbie

oscarpiastri: you are the best thing that’s ever been mine

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Part 2

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dekusleftsock · 8 months ago

Text

I think about this sometimes but I personally love that Horikoshi took the Yandere trope, split it in two, and gave one half to Izuku and Himiko.

Like it’s so fascinating how you can just SEE how purposeful Himiko was as a character in hindsight standing next to him.

Himiko is a really interesting subversion of her trope for two reasons:

She hurts people because she loves them, not for isolation or destruction of the competition (gore/blood is love to her, not necessarily a means to love someone)

She’s not possessive. Like at all.

I’ve seen that hc a few times and it always bothers me. Ochako is for sure a possessive character (we saw that with Hatsume around Izuku way back at the sports festival arc), but Himiko? Really?

You mean the girl who had a crush on a boy AND the girl who also had a crush on the same boy? Her?

You mean the girl who doesn’t hurt people who love who she loves, rather actively encouraging it in the first place? That one? Really?

Like it’s such an integral part to her subversion too. It’s what makes her such a weird and fascinating character. Possessiveness is supposed to be whats ugly about love itself, yet her love remains ugly without it. She is ugly because the fundamental ways in which she sees and feels about the world are considered “wrong”, “dangerous”, and “deviant”.

But Izuku… ohhhh Izuku…

He holds this trait like a badge melted to his skin. My man cannot escape these allegations. It’s to the point where it’s honestly a fundamental to his narrative. Izuku does not act nor feel the same without it.

Izuku holds a cutesy nickname that literally every other childhood friend of Katsuki’s has long left behind, saying his real name instead (this is honestly why I’m also uninterested in a scene where Izuku calls him “Katsuki” instead of “Kacchan”, Katsuki doesn’t represent the same things the name Izuku does, imo at least), izuku “give him back to me” midoriya, holds his dead body to his chest on a cover, freaked out on someone either hurting/offending Kacchan.. 3 times(?), keeping big boy ofa secrets…. The list goes on.

So it’s this main reason that I think their characters are just so. Fucking. Intertwined. I’m glad this has become a more common interpretation because there’s just so much that aligns between them.

Both of them call their “special people” with -chan endings, both by their first names, both deemed deviants/irrelevant by society. It’s no wonder Ochako fell in love with Izuku, just like she did toga, they’re fucking freaks. They’re interesting. They’re weird. They’re overly friendly and socially inept and a little beaten down by the world yet have too much passion to stay on the ground. They’re envious of the ones they love (Ochako of her freedom to be a normal girl, Katsuki for his raw power and harnessed skill), and I guess I just wanted to make this post because I adore how it’s all done.

I LOVE how the yandere trope is used as societal commentary here. Not necessarily as a way to make the main love interest jealous and feel she must protect the main character, nor for some kinky reason surrounding her character, but because the trope is built off of real, ugly feelings that can and do happen. That love can and is considered truly beautiful in all its forms, especially those of queer people.

So I especially love it because it isn’t just limited to Himiko, but Izuku as well. He may never hurt the ones he loves, but he would hurt for them.

A perfect narrative foil on queer and deviant forms of love. Big fan Horikoshi.

#they’re such freaks and that’s why I love them so much #and so are ochako and Katsuki in their own special ways #just never in the way people think #ochako is a little freak who may or may not think it’s hot when Izuku is a bit beat up.#Katsuki may also be a freak for being weirdly aggressive and so viscerally himself at all times. not even necessarily bc he wants to be a-#jackass but that it’s just who he is to call people asshole nicknames based on appearance or to scream mid battle #ntm my boy was bullied before he got his quirk so like. yk. makes sense that he’s so quick to think that izuku’s been playing the long game #bkdk #togachako #midoriya izuku #mha deku #bkdk brainrot #bakudeku #bnha deku #bakugou katsuki #mha analysis #deku midoriya #uraraka ochako #himiko toga #ochako x himiko

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ryngzmn · 20 days ago

Text

clingy | D.W

PAIRING: dean winchester x werewolf!reader

SUMMARY: ever since you came along, dean hasn’t had a moment of privacy. not that he minds of course.

WORD COUNT: 558.

WARNINGS: not proofread, dean calls reader furball but there are allusions to other nicknames, very short :((

A/N: this is based off a bot I’ve made before, also in my eyes reader has like little wolf ears and a tail like in fanart you might see but I didn’t describe it in case some people didn’t want that :)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

It had been a few months — seven, more specifically — since you had started to hunt with the Winchester brothers.

And Dean was a little wary of you, to be honest. But you were a supernatural creature, a werewolf to be exact! It wasn’t a surprise he didn’t trust you.

But eventually he warmed up to you, mainly because he started realizing how useful you were on hunts with that enhanced sense of smell and hearing you had.

You seemed to warm up to Dean quickly, very quickly.

If he could describe you in one word: clingy. That would be the word he would use.

To put it nicely, you never left him alone. If he was doing his own thing in the bathroom, you’d be waiting outside. You were constantly by his side and practically breathing down his neck.

Like right now. Dean was making some breakfast while you were just watching him, not contributing in any way whatsoever. Although, he could probably say you were there for emotional support.

After a bit, Dean briefly glanced at you, seeing that you were only a few inches away from his face.

“Can you give me some room to work here, furball?” The nickname he gave you rolled off his tongue effortlessly, along with the countless other ones he had given you before.

You listened eagerly and quickly took a few steps back, your gaze darting from Dean back over to the food.

Dean noticed this and realized you must’ve been really hungry for you to be eyeing it like that. “You hungry?”

You nodded with a small ‘mhm’ and Dean chuckled.

“Well jus’ give me a few minutes and the food’ll be ready for ya.” He smirked.

“Okay!” You replied cheerfully, turning your head away from the food to look around the bunker’s kitchen. Something Dean noticed you often did when you had nothing else to do.

He let out a small huff, pausing whatever he was doing and turning to you. “Why don’t you go set the table? Food’s almost done. Also, why not wake up Sam while you’re at it?”

Dean watched as you turned and grabbed a few plates, placing them in the table and leaving some space in the middle so Dean could place the pancakes and eggs there.

He turned back to the stove and subconsciously listened to your footsteps rushing down the hallway to Sam’s room.

And by the time he was done and stacking all the pancakes onto one plate, you were already back in the kitchen with Sam in tow.

Walking over to the table, you sat down next to the spot that Dean always sat in. On purpose, of course.

Dean brought the pancakes over to the table and set them down in the middle of the table, sitting down moments later.

While everyone ate, Dean could see you out of the corner of his eye inching closer to him. He said nothing about, knowing that you just wanted it be closer to him.

It might’ve been weird that you were only this clingy with him, you were never this clingy with Sam or Castiel. He’d never bring it up though, mainly because he didn’t mind.

In fact, he enjoyed the fact that someone always wanted to be so close to him, no matter how annoying it got.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

tags! : @ryvkkr

feedback would be appreciated but not necessary!

#ayla writes #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester blurb #jensen ackles

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cheolaholic · 4 months ago

Text

ring of love; csc (07)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n;; im gonna be honest, i had no clue as to how im gonna write chapter 7 so i took a short break. that ended with me diving head first into love and deepspace which now has led me to a new obsession – Sylus. if you saw that post i made abt LNDS a few weeks ago, that has manifested into a side blog @chaeriescola where i’ll be posting my-non kpop related fics (read: Sylus & Zayne brainrot) also, i’m on Patreon now !! if you join my Patreon, you’ll get early access to the fics (a week early before they get posted on tumblr & ao3), exclusive bonus content, sneak peeks of other projects etc. if you’d like these special treats, feel free to join 👀 enough of me yapping, onto the fic~

Seungcheol wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting when he tasked Mingyu and Vernon to look after you – considering how they both absolutely suck at understanding the whole “look after ___ for me but, don’t let her catch you” concept. He’s seen them tail behind you, possibly raising concerns in some students and staff whether they were stalking you from the moment they spotted you.

coups: can’t you two be more discreet? coups: you both look like you’re the worst stalkers gameboi: ? tallgyu: I think we’re doing a good job alien-non: yea, she hasn’t noticed us gameboi: you really got Mingyu and Hansol to tail after ___? gameboi: no offense to all 3 of you gameboi: but Hansol’s logic is practically gone if Mingyu’s leading tallgyu: HEY alien-non: I suggested we wear disguises but Mingyu didn’t want to! tallgyu: those weirdly shaped sunglasses are way too obvious coups: what you’re doing now is way more obvious! tallgyu: she hasn’t noticed us tallgyu: it’s fine hyung coups: Vernon alien-non: yes coups: you know how aware ___ is of her surroundings coups: she’s probably already spotted you both gameboi: but chose not to say anything

As if on cue, when they both turned a corner, they were both startled to come face-to-face with you, arms crossed, staring right at them.

“You’ve both been following me for the past hours, can I help you?” you ask, eyes narrowing when they both exchange a look.

“Well…” Mingyu started, “We… We just wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost…?”

Vernon mentally facepalms at Mingyu’s response while you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, “To make sure I wouldn’t get lost…? On a campus I’ve been attending for at least 2 years…?”

“Seungcheol hyung wanted us to look after you,” Vernon confesses, “I don’t know why, but he just told us to keep an eye on you.”

“And, so, you’ve decided to follow me around?”

“Mingyu was the one who suggested it…”

“You both would make terrible secret agents…” Seungcheol mumbled as he came up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he sent glares to the two younger males. “Cheol, I’m a big girl now – I can handle myself!”

“I know, I know,” he admits, “And, I’m sorry, pup-”

“Pup? You call her ‘pup’?” Your ears burned red at Mingyu’s question, forgetting that not everyone grew up with you and Seungcheol or knowing the reason that he calls you that.

“It’s a nickname I gave her while we were growing up,” Seungcheol answers, “And, it stuck with her since.”

“She grew up with you? Oh, you poor thing,” Mingyu faked cries as he pulls you into an embrace, “He must’ve picked on you non-stop.”

“Actually, he didn’t pick on me.” The taller male pulls away, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your answer. “He stood for me and may or may not have threatened the people that did pick on me.” He looks at Seungcheol with a look of betrayal, “That’s not fair! Why does she get special treatment while you keep picking on me!?”

Seungcheol pries Mingyu away from you, his arm returning to its position on your waist as he answers, “Because you’re Mingyu, and she’s… she’s ___.”

‘Well… this is… awkward…’ you thought to yourself as you sat in front of Wonwoo, one of the other boys you had briefly met that night. Seungcheol suggested you meet the three of them altogether, mainly Mingyu and Wonwoo since you were already best friends with Vernon, to somewhat break the ice.

‘Choi Seungcheol, you ass, this is anything but breaking the ice! If anything, this is increasing the freezing point of the ice!’

Unfortunately, Seungcheol’s plan of grabbing lunch together is now facing a setback. You had no classes that day, Wonwoo finished his, but Seungcheol, Mingyu and Vernon were being held back for their classes.

“Seungcheol, I’ve only met him once!” you whisper-shouted into your phone, “And, neither of us exchanged a single conversation since!”

“I know, I know,” Seungcheol answers, wracking his head to come up with solutions, “But, this lecturer is talking so slow that I have no choice!”

“What about Vernon and Mingyu?”

A sigh was heard, “Apparently, the model was being fussy about how she should be posing for their portrait. The lecturer needed her to be partially clothed, but since Mingyu was in the class… You can fill in the blanks…”

You let out a sigh, looking into the windows of the cafe as Wonwoo sits at a booth near the pick-up counter, “How much longer until you all are able to get here?”

“Probably an hour… And another 20 minutes to get there. Hey, you and Wonwoo both like drinking coffee and are introverts! Maybe you both can try talking to break the ice.”

Oh, boy, did Seungcheol underestimate the introversion you and Wonwoo possess. You had initially tried to have small talk with him, only to chicken out when he looked at you with that piercing gaze through his glasses. It’s been half an hour since you sat down at the booth with him, your strawberry milkshake sitting on a coaster as he goes to order possibly his third cup of cappuccino.

When he returns with his drink, you can’t help but ask, “Isn’t that… too much caffeine…?”

Wonwoo seemed a bit taken back when you finally opened your mouth to talk, but he recovers quickly and shrugs, “Honestly, after drinking caffeine for years, you kind of grow immune to it. You should’ve seen Mingyu’s reaction when he found me sleeping after downing 5 cans of Monster.”

“Five!?”

“Yes, five.”

“And, you were still able to sleep?”

“Like a baby.”

Wonwoo was surprisingly easy to talk to – you just needed to get over your social anxiety and the very intimidating resting bitch face he has. You’ve come to learn that the man in front of you was GAM3BO1WOO, a famous game streamer on SVTwitch. You’ve seen a few of his stream clips on your feed, but you weren’t exactly a fan of his since his taste in games and yours were vastly different.

“Do you play every new game release?” you asked, scrolling through his MAESTRO account and skimming through his posts.

“It depends, actually. If a new game really catches my eye, then I’ll download it. Other than that, either the companies sponsored me to stream their games, my followers keep requesting that I play the game they think would suit me or want to see me play. Sometimes, Mingyu and Cheol would gift me co-op games since a lot of them have the mechanic of if one player already owns the game, the second player plays for free.”

“Have you ever hopped on trends?”

“It drives traffic and increases my followers, can’t really complain.”

You’re not sure how long you’ve been conversing with Wonwoo. But, it was definitely long enough for neither of you to notice the three men standing right outside the window, watching you two fondly and surprised. “They’re… talking…” Mingyu says in awe, a chuckle from Seungcheol following afterwards, “Nice to know two of our introverts are getting along just fine.”

You noticed them from the corner of your eyes, turning to the window, Wonwoo following to look at them. You smiled, giving them a small wave which they returned while the latter gave a small nod of his head.

“Sorry for keeping the two of you waiting,” Seungcheol apologised the second he got to the booth, taking a seat next to you. Mingyu and Vernon took their seats next to Wonwoo after placing their orders at the counter. “Aren’t you going to get anything?” you asked the older male, looking up at him as you took a sip from your milkshake.

“I’m assuming you’re waiting for me so you can order some kind of snack which we either share or I finish the remaining you can’t.” When you don’t answer and avert his gaze, Seungcheol knows he caught you red-handed. He chuckles as he gets out of the booth and towards the counter, which unfortunately for you, leads to an interrogation by the other three boys – technically, it was mainly Mingyu with the occasional questioning from Vernon. Wonwoo just sits quietly, listening in as his eyes would dart between you, your two ‘interrogators’ and Seungcheol who was still lining up.

The two men asked you the questions you’d expect.

“How old were you when you met Seungcheol hyung?”

“I think… I think I was 5? He should be about 7 or 8?”

“What did he look like back then? Did he look like a nerd?”

“Well, he had the signature bowl kid every boy got when they were kids or teens.”

“Was he scary?”

“Kind of? Not a lot of people messed with me because of how protective he was over me.”

“Mess with little red riding hood, the big bad wolf will come and get you.”

All attention was on Seungcheol as he placed a plate of strawberry cake and a plate of a dozen brownies on the table, returning to his seat right next to you. Noticing the stunned expressions from his peers, he shrugs, “That was what they’d always say to anyone trying to approach her with ill intentions. It’s basically their way of saying ‘if you don’t want trouble, don’t go looking for trouble’.”

An easier way to put it was – if you don’t want to deal with an angry Seungcheol, don’t bother his girl. Your heart still flutters at how some people referred to you as ‘his girl’, but you knew that actually being his girl was nothing more than a dream to you. “By the way hyung, when’s your next fight? Maybe ___ could come and help out, y’know?” Vernon asks, reaching out to grab a brownie only for his hand to be lightly slapped by Seungcheol. “Ow! What was that for!?”

“If you want them, go get them yourselves,” the older male answers, pushing the plate of brownies towards you. “These are for ___. If you want one, go get one yourself.” Your face heats up at the gesture, and heats up further when the three males turn to you. “Why does she get special treatment?” Mingyu whines, “And how can she possibly finish that entire plate?”

Seungcheol pats your head as he answers, “Because she’s ___. And, yes, she can. If she can’t, I’ll finish it.”

“Can we have a piece if you’re the one finishing it up?”

“No, get your own.”

“Ah, hyung!”

You’ve managed to bond with Wonwoo and Mingyu, becoming close with them in a matter of days and now, you’ve got four ‘bodyguards’ walking around with you (Mingyu refers to them as that, the others and you just play along). The downside that comes with the friendship would be a flock of envious fangirls (and occasionally fanboys) who had begun to buzz around you like moths attracted to light.

“How did you become friends with Wonwoo? Could you ask him to shout me out on his streams or MAESTRO account?”

“Is Mingyu single? Could you introduce me to him?”

“Would you like to be friends? I’d love to be friends with the boys!”

Both boys could see you were tired of the clout chasers, especially Wonwoo since he knows you value your personal space. Both men had taken the issue to their social media, expressing how they’d appreciate it if their ‘fans’ stopped bugging their friends and loved ones in an attempt to get close with them. You remembered when both of them addressed the issue on Wonwoo’s stream, the sternness in both their voices still sent shivers down your spine.

“We understand that you may think you know us as we both are content creators and certain information has been released about us online. While we may not be able to put an end to the parasocial relationship that you have built with us, we do not know you and you do not know us. Do not harass our friends and loved ones, and if your unhealthy obsession of us persists, please seek help.”

That was enough for a majority of the fanboys/fangirls to back off. Some still linger, but they were no longer up close and in your face bombarding you with questions or requests.

Currently, Wonwoo, Mingyu and Vernon sat in a discussion room within the library as they waited for Seungcheol and you. It was a small meet-up, but it could also be treated as a short co-working/co-studying meet-up. Your class was ending later than usual and Seungcheol offered to wait for you so both of you could walk to the library.

Beauty and the Beasts

mingoo: @princess how much longer is the lecture gonna take?

princess: erm… another 15 mins?

princess: …

princess: who set my nickname as princess in the gc?

All four boys replied altogether and you playfully rolled your eyes.

mingoo: coups hyung

vernonnie: cheol hyung

nonu: seungcheol

cheol: i did

cheol: i got you your coffee order btw

mingoo: what about us?

cheol: you lot already got your orders before you headed to the library

mingoo: i’m assuming you got her snacks too

cheol: yes

cheol: and they’re only for ___

cheol: so don’t try to steal them

Mingyu lets out a groan as he lays his upper body on the table. “It’s not fair,” he whines, “Why does Seungcheol hyung give ___ special treatment? Is it because she’s a girl?” Vernon shrugs, “Maybe? But, he’s treated his exes the same way, too.”

“Yeah, I know that, Vernon. But, isn’t there something different?”

Mingyu sits up as he looks at Vernon, his words seeming to be hinting at something as the younger male sits in silence. “It’s like he’s more attentive, more caring. Like, he was caring before to the other girls, but there’s this extra layer to it, y’know?”

“He means there’s more than meets the eye,” Wonwoo says, “I think what Mingyu’s trying to say is that Seungcheol is whipped for ___.”

“Yes!” Mingyu exclaims, pointing at Wonwoo with a puppy-like grin on his face, “But, also no? I don’t know! They grew up together so maybe it’s like a habit he has or a sense of responsibility he feels?”

“But, who would want to call their childhood best friend who is now an adult ‘pup’?” Vernon questions, and Wonwoo tips his pencil in the younger male’s direction, “Precisely. Everyone would grow out of it, much less a nickname like that. Hell, would you call any of your friends that kind of name as an adult?”

Mingyu hums in understanding. All three of them knew just how shameless Seungcheol could be sometimes. Vernon bites back a gag when he recalls accidentally witnessing Seungcheol and his then girlfriend making out in his car, in the campus’ parking lot - in broad daylight. He pitied his therapist who had to listen to him ramble on and on about suspecting the older male having an exhibitionist kink.

“So, you really think he’s whipped for her?”

“Seungcheol barely remembers your favourite cake, but he remembers ___’s coffee order.”

“He probably has it written down somewhere?”

“I beg to differ,” Vernon speaks up.

He joined Seungcheol to get coffee a few weeks ago. While Seungcheol was ordering his, you had texted Vernon saying your Business Module class had completely drained you and you were in need of a quick pick me up. All he did was say, “___ wants us to help get her coffee,” and Seungcheol began reciting your order to the barista without a second thought.

“He knew it like the back of his hand! Not a single thing was missed out!”

As Mingyu and Vernon continue to discuss Seungcheol's love life, Wonwoo glances down at his phone as it vibrates, a notification from you. Opening up the text app on his laptop, he types out his reply.

___: hey woo?

___: is it ok if i call you that-

wonwoo: yes?

wonwoo: n yes, perfectly fine

___: ok

___: um, so the class im in rn, we’re almost done btw!

___: they need me to write some kind of paper abt how psychology n business work

___: n since you’re a psych major

wonwoo: you need my help, yes?

___: bingo

___: is it possible for you to help me?

wonwoo: sure thing

wonwoo: why don’t you go over the details with me once you’re out of class?

wonwoo: we’ve booked the discussion room for the entire day

___: don’t the others have class?

Wonwoo can feel Mingyu and Vernon standing behind him as they “observe” his conversation with you. “Oooh, you’re texting his girl~” Mingyu teases, earning a glare from the older male that shuts him up immediately. “She needs help with her coursework and I have relevant information that can help her,” he replies as he resumes to type out his reply.

wonwoo: seungcheol only has one class today iirc

wonwoo: gyu and vernon have some kind of workshop in an hour

___: oh, cool!

___: then i can also get cheollie’s opinion

“Do you think they have a thing for each other?” Vernon asks, seemingly picking up on certain signs just from the text Wonwoo had just exchanged with you.

“Who? Seungcheol hyung and ___?” Mingyu asks back and he nods. The taller male thinks for a while, recalling the times that he’s seen any form of interaction or exchanged conversation the pair have shared. “Maybe? But, there weren’t any obvious signs that explicitly showed that Seungcheol or ___ like the other.”

“Well, there is a saying that love is in plain sight. Or that whole “you were hiding in plain sight” trend that was going around CIRCLES a few months ago.”

“Should we play cupid?”

“I think it’d be best if we don’t interfere with their love life.”

Wonwoo had a point. While their curiosity was gnawing away, the last thing they’d wanna do is accidentally driving a wedge between you and Seungcheol. It would be worse if they were reading the room wrong and neither of you were harbouring any feelings for the other. “But, that doesn’t mean we can’t find some clues to answer our hypothesis.”

Mingyu and Vernon looked at the older male who was still typing on his laptop. “Are we conducting experiments on them now?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. I’d say it’s more of observing their interactions with each other.”

“We’ll leave the psychology part to the psych major.”

“If this ends up being your thesis paper, Woo, we’d better be given credits.”

Later that night…

gyu created the group Operation Cupid 💘

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwooo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetner @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnothelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp @shingbangyes @black-swan-blog27 @minhui896

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theemporium · 2 years ago

Note

the golden retriever and black cat was soooo cute, could you do part 2 please?

thank you for requesting!🖤

part one

“Does my hair look okay?”

“Yes.”

“And my outfit?”

“Also yes.”

“What about—”

“Fucking hell,” James let out a long groan as he fell back onto his bed, shoving his face into his pillow. “You have already asked me three times!”

“Well, now I’m asking you a fourth time!” Sirius snapped back. “Are you sure I look okay?”

“You look perfect, mate, she’s gonna think the same,” James told him, his voice a little more sincere this time as he lifted his head up. “Now go before she thinks you stood her up.”

Sirius frowned as he glanced over at the clock, noticing the time and letting out a panicked ‘shit’ under his breath before he reached for his jacket and bolted out the room with James’ laughter following him down the stairs.

It had taken Sirius asking a handful of different students to pinch him on his way back to Gryffindor Tower to realise that he hadn’t, in fact, dreamt up the interaction with you. It had taken James literally slapping him across the face to prove he was awake for him to realise the date planned with you tonight was also very real.

He had spent the rest of the day spiralling over every little detail you could have possibly managed, and it often resulted in either Remus or Lily having to talk him down from an edge when he got too panicked.

And now he was racing towards the Three Broomsticks with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, eager and determined to reach the pub at least fifteen minutes early so he could grab a good seat and be ready for when you arrived.

However, Sirius didn’t think you would have the same idea as he burst through the door, only to see you already seated in a booth with a somewhat smug look on your face.

“You’re early,” Sirius muttered, his shoulders falling as he made his way towards the table you were sitting at.

“Is that a problem?” you asked with your brows raised.

“No, no!” Sirius quickly exclaimed, his cheeks flushed a light pink and it was no longer due to the fact he ran from the castle. “I just…I wanted to be here so I could pull out your chair and stuff.”

“Lucky for you, you can’t really do that in booths,” you teased lightly before patting the spot next to you.

Sirius quickly slid in, flashing you a sheepish smile as he held the flowers out for you. “Here. These are for you.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

Sirius’ face fell. “You don’t like them.”

“No, I—” you stared at the flowers with an odd expression before looking up at him. “I’ve just…never had someone give me flowers before.”

“Well, baby, you gotta get used to it with me,” he said with a widespread grin on his face. “Coffees aren’t the only deliveries you gotta prepare for.”

“You’re confident this will go well,” you noted, watching the way Sirius’ arm fell onto the back of the booth with his fingers brushing against your shoulder, but you chose not to point it out.

“I’ve charmed you this far, love, I reckon a few hours with me and you’ll be smitten,” he answered with a sure nod of his head.

“Smitten?” you repeated, your lips twitching up a little.

“Downright besotted,” Sirius confirmed.

“If you say so, handsome,” you murmured, biting back your own smile when you watched his cheeks flush at the nickname.

“I could get used to hearing you call me that,” he muttered with a wolfish grin. And something about it made your stomach twist, in a good way. In a way that made you want to keep that smile on his face.

1K notes · View notes

cheeeeseburger · 7 months ago

Text

Late night shift

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: A Donna and Harvey dynamic? Yes please! English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes. Enjoy!

“Can you transfer me…”

“The last email? Already did.”

“Thank you, dulce. Can you confirm…”

“Your presence at the gala? I already sent both of our RSVP, like last week. Duh.”

“Oh, ok, thanks. Can you bring me a cup of coffee then?”

You rolled your eyes. “Fernando, your latte is already in your office, like usual. I’ve nearly finished mine. I used your card. Thanks for the free drink, I guess.”

He looked at you in admiration. “You truly are amazing; do you know that?” His words shouldn’t have pleased you as much as they did. You should be used to it by now, he thanked God for making you apply to be his assistant multiple times a day. You blew him a kiss, winked and replied as you exited the room: “Oh baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.” If you had looked back behind your shoulder, you would have seen his eyes full of high esteem and something else that would have woken up the butterflies in your tummy.

Ok, maybe calling your much older boss “baby” wasn’t the most professional way to act, but it was just the way things were between you and Fernando. They had always been like this, ever since you had started working as his assistant, three years ago. You had quickly picked up on his habits, and not a week after you had started the job, he had already nicknamed you “dulce”. Everyone around the paddock knew you two as a pair, an item even. If he was somewhere, it was because you told him he had to be there at a specific time, and you were always right next to him. The media loved your dynamic, and your name was always associated with his. If he was the dad of the grid because of his age, then you were the mom simply because you were partners in crime. Even his parents treated you like a daughter in law. Honestly, you looked like an old couple, always bugging the other, but caring deeply for each other.

The thing is, you two were not a couple, not even close. There wasn’t an ounce of romance between you two, sadly. At least, it was sad for your poor, poor heart who jumped every time you were next to him, so basically every minute of the day. Sometimes, you thought he might feel something for you too, like when you were on flights together, and he sat next to you so you could fall asleep on his shoulder, or whenever it was late at night, and he knocked on your door just to ask you if you wanted to order food. He also left a doubt in your mind whenever you were his automatic plus one to any event, and he had a possessive grip on your arm all night, or when he treated you to something you didn’t even remember mentioning to him.

But every time you got your hopes up, he asked you what shirt he should wear for his upcoming date, or which car he should drive to pick a lucky lady. With your heart crushed, you always answered the white one, because it made him look crisp, and you said to drive the Porshe, because the Valkyrie was your favourite, and just like its owner, you wanted to keep it to yourself.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜

“Fernando, baby, I won’t be able to attend the gala with you next week. Do you have someone in mind that you’d would like me to contact to be your date?” You dropped this bomb so casually, on a flight between two continents. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea, since you were stuck in an enclosed space with him for the next few hours.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean you’re not going with me?” Oh boy, he was pissed. You just continued working on your laptop. “Don’t worry, I can still work as your assistant there even if I’m going with someone else.” You rolled your eyes, which you probably shouldn’t have done, because he looked really irritated now.

“Stop playing with me. You’re going with someone else? Who are you even going with anyway?” Oh, if looks could kill. You regretted being in an airplane even more, because if he did end up killing you, you’d be in international waters, and it would be hell in court. You’d have to find the best lawyer there is. Oh wow. You were thinking about hiring a lawyer for your possible murderer. You were just that good at your job.

“Just some guy who owns shares in Aston Martin. Don’t worry, it’s not a lot.” He just stared at you, and now you were really starting to feel uneasy. “Don’t kill me, please?” You asked sheepishly.

That got him out of his trance. “What?” Ok, maybe you had gotten too far in this murder fantasy. He continued: “Why don’t you want to go with me?”

Bless his heart, he looked sad for a second, but the look of fury came back very quickly. “Fernando, it’s not that I don’t want to go with you, it’s just that I got asked out, and since I’m single, I said yes. It’s nothing personal, really.” You shrugged.

“You want to be with this guy? For life?” He interrogated. You raised your hands in the air: “Woah, woah, buddy. I haven’t even gone out once with him! I’m just considering my options.” You suddenly felt self-conscious. “I don’t want to be single forever, you know. What if I turn forty and I’m still all alone in life?” You started to fan yourself and pretended to faint for a more dramatic effect. That effectively lightened his mood.

“You know that I am over 40 and still single, right?” You stuck your tongue at him, and he tried his hardest not to laugh. “Is it because he’s rich? I am rich too, you know.” It was your turn to be offended. “It’s not because he’s rich! It’s because he asked me out and he seems nice, that’s all! Why aren’t you happy that for once you will not be stuck with me? You have the opportunity to invite whoever you want!”

His mood was like the weather at every Canadian GP: changing in a second. He pinched his nose in frustration. “Dulce, if I’m not going with you, I’m going alone.” God, he was exasperating. You had to remind yourself he was your boss; otherwise much harsher words would have come out of your mouth. You settled for a simple “Fine!” to which he also replied “Fine!”

Nobody was actually fine. The rest of the plane ride was pretty much silent.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜

Although you tried not to think about it, your relationship with Fernando was definitely strained after that conversation. You pretended that everything was normal to not raise questions from other people, but you knew something was wrong. He did not kiss you on the cheek like he used to do at least once a day, he dropped the nickname he had for you, and even started to avoid you. You were heartbroken. You did not understand why he was so hurt. You thought you did the right thing by accepting that he was not interested in you like you were in him and moving on, but perhaps not. You felt sick all week until the gala.

Honestly, you were not that interested in your date, but you had to pretend for the night. When he picked you up in his flashy car and he complimented your look, you acted all shy and pleased when really, you didn’t give a shit what he thought about you.

He was right though; you did look gorgeous. Your dress was very flattering on you, it gave you curves in all the right place, and your hair and makeup gave you that old-Hollywood look that is to die for. Also, your boobs really looked good, which is always a confidence booster, right? (A confidence boobster, even?) You always felt beautiful, but tonight, you felt hot. The cameras flashing and the looks you got as you entered the gala confirmed your feeling. Oh, your ego would definitely not fit through the door.

You were sitting alone at a table while your date went to get you something to drink.

“Already alone, dulce? Even though you’re far from turning forty?”

You looked up at Fernando, and your stupid heart betrayed you by doing a backflip. He looked so fucking good in a suit, it was criminal. He looked like the hero of those mafia romance books that you loved in secret. His white dress shirt made him look very dashing. It made your imagination run wild with fantasies involving you grabbing him by the collar, and wearing nothing but his unbuttoned shirt while he made you breakfast the next morning. Oops.

You flashed your biggest smile at him. “I’m not alone, I have you!” You jumped from your seat to give him a big hug like you always did. Gosh, he smelled so good. You knew his perfume because you were always the one reordering the bottle, but you made a mental note to order a bottle for yourself. Perhaps you could spray it in your underwear drawer? Once again, oops.

“You look beautiful, dulce.” You gave him a spin so he could really take in how good you looked, and his gaze was full of adoration. He even flushed a little bit. You stared him up and down. “You look good too, baby. I’m glad we went with the black suit.” He smiled at you. “You have good taste, dulce.” This conversation was the most normal you had all week, ever since the airplane incident.

“I can’t believe you went alone! You’re so stubborn!” You lightly smacked him on the arm when you saw that he truly was unaccompanied. He shrugged and winked at you. “Like I said, it’s you or nothing, amor.” You crossed your arms on your chest, which made your boobs squeeze out of your dress a little, and he definitely peeked at them, but he’s such a gentleman that his eyes were immediately back on yours. You just wanted to scream: Look for as long as you want, baby. Do you want me to remove my dress completely, perhaps? On your bedroom floor, maybe? You ultimately decided against it.

“Thousand of women are crying all over the world because of you, Fernando. ABBA are currently removing their song Fernando from their catalogue. Do you realize the consequence of your actions?” While you were joking, he suddenly got very serious, and his voice got very deep when he asked “Do you? Do you know why I can't bring anyone that is not you with me?”.

It felt like the air had changed in the room. You were suddenly very hot, and his eyes on you didn’t help with that. You bit you lower lip, and he seemed like he wanted to take you right there, right now. He was giving you his best bedroom eyes. Your legs felt weak as you imagined him fucking you, the noises he would make, the screams he would get out of you. He was definitely the type to talk you through it. The thought made your toes curl. You just knew he would help you clean yourself after because you wouldn’t be able to walk. God help you, if he kept staring at your lips like that, you would have to take him against the wall like a starved woman. Were your panties wet already?

Your moment was interrupted by your date, which you had completely forgotten about. The sexual tension was definitely still there, though. You introduced him sheepishly to Fernando as he gave you your drink. As soon as the two men started talking to each other, you finished your espresso martini in less than three sips.

Fernando and your date seemed like they were in a weird show off competition. Both were trying to intimidate the other. You grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and you downed that, too. There’s no way you would be able to go through this awkward conversation sober. Both guys were acting way too possessively. As soon as Fernando put his hand towards your lower back, your date tried to grab you by the arm, but Fernando just gripped your waist harder. You felt like the favourite doll of two very intense toddlers.

Eventually, thank God, your date was called by someone he knew, and you were once again alone with your boss.

“I don’t think he’s right for you.” Fernando immediately said as soon as he left.

“Gee, okay, dad.” Daddy almost slipped out. Almost.

“I am serious, dulce.” Just like you did frequently these days, you rolled your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, from the way that you acted, he’s not going to want to go out with me ever again. Why did you have to act like a protective older brother?” You whined. Actually, you didn’t care if your date never talked to you ever again, but Fernando didn’t have to know that.

“Older brother?” He looked pissed at the words. “He’s way too old for you, anyway.”

“He’s literally your age, Fernando. And you’re not too old for me, are you?” You wanted to stomp the floor because he was getting on your last nerves.

“I think I’m perfect for you, dulce.” What did he say? (Cue the meme)

Once again, your date, which you were slowly starting to despise, interrupted your moment when he got back to your side. To make matters worse, you three were at the same table for the dinner. It was the longest, most awkward meal of your life. You were sitting in the middle, and both guys were fighting for your attention. It could have been flattering, but it was just so fucking annoying. You kept sending apologetic glances to the other people sitting at your table. Fernando abruptly left to go sit at another table. What a child.

Your mood lightened when the atmosphere changed from a formal dinner to a party.

“Do you dance?” you asked your date. “Never”, he replied. You sighed as you watch everyone leave for the dance floor. You loved to dance, and you could not even have this small thing tonight. This night was a complete failure.

Your favourite song started playing. You just wanted to get up and dance with your date like everybody else was doing, but the stupid asshole was apparently to busy playing Candy Crush on his phone. Gosh, could this night be even more horrible? You just wanted to go back home and cry, until you felt a hand pick up yours.

“Come on, amor. I know this is your favourite song. Nobody puts baby in the corner.” He winked and pulled you to the middle of the dancefloor.

You were stunned. Not only did he know your favourite song, but he had also quoted a line from Dirty Dancing, the movie you always watched during airplanes ride. It was your job to know his favourite food, his preferences; but he had gone out of his way to learn your habits and your favourite things. This was the most romantic thing that has ever happened in your life. This only usually happened in movies like Dirty Dancing. You just stood there, not moving, too shocked to do anything.

“What’s wrong, dulce?” Fernando asked, worriedly. Your nickname, the smile he reserved just for you, his lingering gaze, the info he had gathered on you; it all made so much sense now. He wanted you, just like you wanted him.

You grabbed him by the collar like you had wanted to do all night, and you started to kiss him right there, in the middle of the dancefloor. He did not hesitate. He immediately kissed you back and put his arms around your waist.

This was the best kiss you had ever had. Years of wanting him made you desperate like that, and apparently, he was desperate for you, too. He tasted like sugar and spice and everything nice but also like “I’ve wanted to do this all night” and “Wait, no, I’ve wanted to do this for years”. You were in synch; the world could have stopped, and it wouldn’t have changed anything. You didn’t even think for a second about that other guy, nor did you think about people watching you. Most everyone though you were already together anyway.

“Am I dreaming, baby?” you said as you pulled away. He softly cupped your face with his hands.

“No, dulce. I have been dreaming of kissing you, though.” Your heart melted.

“You have?” You asked in a soft voice. He kissed you again, but it was slower this time, more delicate. He wanted you to realize how badly he cared for you and how long he had been dreaming of this. Was this real? You had never felt as adored as you felt at this instant. People were all around you, dancing and enjoying themselves, but it was like you were alone with Fernando, in another world, on another planet.

“Amor. Surely you must know that I care more for you than anyone else. You’ve always been more than my assistant. I’m happy to call you my friend, but I hate it at the same time because I can’t stand the thought of us being just friends.” He caressed your face. The vulnerability in his eyes touched you to your core, and his words send a wave of heat through your body. This was the most romantic thing that has ever happened to you, but also the hottest. He caused some serious butterflies in your tummy.

“Baby, I don’t like us being just friends either,” you replied, your lips only a few centimeters away from his. He stared hard at your swollen mouth and crashed his lips on it. You locked your arms behind his neck, and he put his large hands around your waist to get a better grip. Oh gosh. He had only kissed you, but he had already ruined you for every other guy out there. One thing for sure, your panties were wet already, and from the bulge you felt on your thigh, he was enjoying himself too.

“Dios mio, amor. I should have done this earlier,” he chuckled and looked at the ceiling. This man was turned on. Like, sooooo turned on.

You leaned in even closer to whisper in his ear: “Don’t worry baby, we’re just getting started.” Your lipstick lingering on him, his perfume on you, the heat in your body, it was all overwhelming, so when he asked you “Do you want to get out of here?”, you were quick to answer: “Yes!” and to lead him out of the party.

Fernando was holding you close to him while you two waited for the valet to bring out his car. You were blushing and giggling like a teenage girl because you finally had the man of your dream in your arms. He kept giving you kisses, and it was like he could not believe it was now allowed.

You first saw it out of the corner of you eye. It was a real beauty, and you were in awe of it. The valet got out and gave back the keys of the green Valkyrie to Fernando. You wanted to scream. Surely, you must be in a rom-com. In your wildest dreams, this was the car the picked you up in to go on a date. You were like a kid in a candy store.

Fernando smiled at your enthusiasm. “I know it’s you favourite, dulce.” He opened your car door and you shrieked when you got inside.

“Oh, baby, this is way too good!” You were busy with touching the leather of the seat and admiring the interior. He had taken you on hot laps before, but never in this car. Apparently, he was saving it for a special occasion.

“I’m glad you like it, amor.” He started the car and drove off smoothly into the night. Wow, this guy is good at driving, maybe he should do it professionally or something?

As the air hit your face, you were hit by a wave of happiness. You shouted at the world: “I was made to be doing this!”

The Spaniard put his hand on your thigh and replied in a sensual voice: “Si, amor. You were made for me.”

Fernando drove really fast, but you wanted to get to his place so badly that it was not nearly fast enough. His hand slowly going higher and higher on your thigh was not helping your sudden need for speed.

Finally, you arrived at his place. Like a gentleman, Fernando opened your car door. Unlike a gentleman, his lips immediately crashed on yours. You two danced a frantic tango to get to the door of his place, your mouths never apart for more than a second. Eventually, you managed to get inside.

“I need you so bad, baby. I’ve needed you for years.” You immediately kicked off your high heels and started to remove his suit jacket. Your words must have pleased him, because his hands started exploring your body and he gently bit your lower lip. He pushed you against the wall.

“Oh yeah? Why didn’t you say anything before?” Honestly, why didn’t you? Dumb bitch.

You felt your eyes roll back in your skull when he cupped your boob with one hand and your ass with the other, his mouths still leaving love bites all over your neck.

“I wish I did. I’m so stupid.” The tango was back because you tried to move the action to the bedroom. He obviously knew the layout of his place by heart and so did you, since you had been there many times before, yet none of you seemed to know where it was.

“Amor, you know that I’m never letting you go after that, right? From now on, you’re not just my assistant. You’re mine, and I’ll make sure that everyone knows that.” You crashed into the walls many times as you made your way to his bedroom. Pictures were shaking, just like your legs. The walls of his house trembled, just like your walls did.

He finally managed to lead you to his bedroom, and he put you down on his bed. Fernando laid on top of you and leaned down to your ear: “Say you’re mine, dulce. Tell me you belong to me.”

His weight on your body felt so good, but you were aching for more. You craved any kind of friction to ease the heat between your legs, so you started to rub yourself against the bulge in his pants. It’s not like you didn’t want to answer him, it’s just the way he moved on you that left you speechless. Your toes curled and you started to moan, and although the way he let you move on him like that told you he liked it, this wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

Fernando pinned your wrists on the mattress. “I’m not playing anymore, little girl. Tell me you’re mine, or all of this will stop.” You immediately answered him between two moans: “I’m yours, baby. I’ve always been yours, and I always will be.” He grunted like an animal at your words, and you lifted your hips to have more of this delicious friction. He started to make out with your throat while you unbuttoned his white dress shirt as fast as you could. You were tracing lines on his chest with your fingers when he abruptly stopped. “Wait, wait, wait, mi amor. This wasn’t supposed to be like this.” He sat on the bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Was he regretting this already?

He continued, looking pained and disappointed with himself: “I’ve thought about this before. I was suppose to take you on a nice date, then ask you to come home with me. I would’ve driven you around town in your favourite car, then I would make love to you slowly, so you would know how much you mean to me. This feels rushed. I want to take my time with you. At least, I got the Valkyrie part right.” You wanted to swoon after his rambling. He looked so upset, you wanted to cry out of empathy and love for this man. He nicknamed you “dulce”, but really, he was the sweet one.

“Fernando, baby. There’s nothing I would change about this night so far. This is a thousand times better than any date you could have taken me on.” You put your hand on one his cheek.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin things between us. I want to treat you right, because you deserve the world, amor.” If you weren’t certain you loved this man before, now you were.

“Baby, being with you feels better than owning the world. I’ve never been as happy as I am right now, and you couldn’t be more perfect. But if it makes you feel better, we can start again.” He started to calm himself by massaging your calf.

“How, amor?” It was hard to focus, because him sitting on his bed with his dress shirt open was quite the sight to see, but you managed to reply: “Like this.”

Although it pained you, you removed his hand from your body and got up from the bed to exit the bedroom. Confused, he followed you all the way to the doorstep outside.

“What are you doing?” You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I had a really nice date with you this evening, Fernando.”

“Ah, I get your little game now.” He laughed and gave you a tender kiss, the one you assumed he used for his first date. You hoped he would never use it ever again. “Me too, dulce. Would you like to come in?”

You gave him a flushed smile. “I would love too, baby.” He took your hand and brought you inside. “Shall I give you a tour?” he asked. You replied: “Oh yes, absolutely. I would especially like to see the bedroom. I hear it’s where you burn all your left-over energy.” He smirked at you playing innocent.

When you got close to his bedroom door, you stopped to give him your second-date kiss. You never kissed with your tongue until after the first date, and he knew that. “This is your famous second-date kiss, yes?” You laughed against his mouth. “Oh yes. And on the third date, I usually sleep with the guy.” His breath hitched, and he brought you inside the room.

“When I first sleep with a woman, I usually start by removing her clothes.” He spun you so your back was facing him. You lifted your hair and he slowly, oh so slowly started to unzip your dress, making sure to let his fingertips linger. This felt like the longest foreplay of your life. When your dress dropped to the floor, you shivered, and he turned you to get a better look at your body.

“Dios mio, amor. You’re so beautiful.” He stared at you in adoration, eyes filled with lust and something that you would not dare to call love, even though that’s what it was.

You flushed and tried to look away, but he lifted your chin with his fingers. “Thank you, baby,” you replied shyly. He removed his already unbuttoned shirt. “I think I’ve taken enough my time, amor.”

“I don’t think I can wait anymore, Fernando. I need you inside of me.” Your words send him into action. He very carefully lifted you to the bed, and he laid you there like a pastry he was about to devour.

“I think you’ll have to be patient for a little while, dulce. I want to treat myself to something sweet.” He dragged you to the edge of the bed and he got down on his knees. He put your legs over his shoulders, and he got down to eat you. Oh, God. He ate you like a man starved. You were his own personal meal.

His tongue licking you made you scream his name, but what really did it for you was when you saw him touching himself. This man was getting pleasure out of eating you out, and that turned up your arousal to another level.

It wasn’t longue after that you gripped the sheets as hard as you could while you screamed his name. He let your orgasm last by never removing his tongue.

When he got up, shirtless, with a very noticeable bulge, you grabbed him by his belt to bring him back on the bed.

“That was the hottest thing that has ever happened to me, baby. You treat me so good already. But I can’t be patient anymore, I think.” You hurriedly removed his belt and played with the zipper of his pants. He laughed.

“It’s okay, amor. You’ve been a good girl, you deserve this.” Oh. Oh. Since when did you have a thing for praise?

“I’m clean, and I’m on the pill, so you don’t have to wear anything, if you want,” you offered shyly. The enormity of what was going to happen suddenly hit you. Oh God, were you really about to sleep with your boss that you’re kinda in love with?

He let out a possessive growl. “Good, because I don’t want anything between me and you. I need to feel you as you are.” Damn. Were you listening to one of those erotic audiobook or did he really just say that to you?

Fernando once again went on top of you. He adjusted himself and angled his body just right. When you felt the tip inside of you, your eyes immediately rolled to the back of your head. He was so big.

You whined: “Fernando, I don’t think it’s going to fit.” He slowly let himself in you. “You can take it. You always manage to fit things in my schedule. Surely this is nothing to you.” You moaned loudly.

The pain was just too good. “Baby, never putting you in a meeting earlier then 10 in the morning is a thousand times easier than making you fit inside of me.” He chuckled, but as he got more and more deep in you, he started to grunt.

“Amor, don’t get sassy with me now. Take it like a good girl.” You pushed him deeper inside of you by putting your legs around his waist.

“On it, boss.” You usually sounded so confident, but your words were nothing but another cry of pleasure in a sea of moans. You felt your orgasm build up inside of you as he kept pounding into your body. Applying to be his assistant had definitely been the best decision of your life. Who would’ve thought that on top of being paid to travel the world, you would be receiving incredible orgasms on the side?

“Dios mio, mi amor…” Fernando whispered in a low, sensual voice. You shut him up with a fierce kiss.

“Baby, stop saying that. I should be the one to say it, because I’m so fucking close, but I am praying to God that this never ends.” He pounded hard into you.

“Are you thinking about someone else while I’m inside of you? I must be doing something wrong then.” He managed to laugh in between thrusts and grunts.

“I can assure you, boss, you’re doing everything right!” You screamed as your orgasm hit its peak, and you came undone. His thrusts got sloppier as he finished, too. He looked at you and wished that everybody could see him dripping out of you. Not now, but maybe someday, he won’t let anything spill because he’ll be trying his hardest to put a baby in you. For now, this already perfect view would have to do. He took a mental picture.

Fernando rolled off of you and sat against the headboard, breathing heavily. He pulled you in his arms in a tight grip and started playing with your hair. With your swollen lips, the light layer of sweat on his body and both of you tangled in each other, you looked like the cover of the dirtiest romance book you owned.

“Am I allowed to say it now? Because dios mio, amor. That felt incredible.” He sighed in your hair. You blushed, pleased that he had enjoyed himself as much as you did. The man of your dream just rocked your world, and he liked doing it.

“Yes, you are allowed, baby. You gave me two orgasms; you can now say anything you like.” You laughed and turned your head to give him a quick kiss.

“Only two? Dulce, that’s not enough. Do we have anything planned tomorrow?” Your heart jumped in your chest at his use of “we”. It was very endearing an it made your heart ache from happiness, but if he used “nosotros”, you might just come on the spot.

“No baby, we have nothing planned.” As his assistant, you obviously knew his schedule by heart, and tomorrow morning, he was now booked and busy with the task of giving you pleasure all day long. You made a mental note to add it to the calendar.

He sighed in pleasure and closed his eyes. “That’s perfect, amor. I have an idea of what we could do.” His breath slowed down as he fell in a state of deep relaxation.

“Really? Tell me?” You couldn’t help but to shut your eyes. Being in his arms was too comfy.

“First, we’re going to wake up in each other’s arms. After that, I’ll make you scream my name, but I’ll have to put something over your mouth to not wake the neighbors.” You shivered at his perfect fantasy, but he wasn’t done. “After that, I’ll bring you breakfast in bed, to give you energy for what will come next. All afternoon, I’ll take you in every single location in my house, perhaps even outside, to find where you come the quickest. Finally, I’ll take you out for a nice dinner, to show off your hickeys to the world.” Your toes curled. This was even better than your wildest sex dream involving him.

“Sounds like a plan, then.” He locked you in his arms, and you both drifted to a light sleep. You woke up, suddenly realizing something: “Oh no!” Fernando jerked awake. “What? What’s wrong, dulce?”

“I forgot to say bye to my date! Oh no, I’m awful. I don’t want to hurt his feelings,” you replied, genuinely worried. Fernando laid his head on your shoulder, and you felt him shake as he laughed.

“Dios mio, dulce, only you could be worried about making another man feel bad while being in bed with me.” He was howling with laughter.

“What!?I like to be nice!” Fernando chuckled at your sweetness.

“I know, dulce. And I love you for it.” He kissed the top of your head.

Being his assistant was easy, but you were now applying for the position of girlfriend. He hired you on the spot, and let me tell you, you were damn good at the job. The boss was pretty nice, too. Your bonuses now came in the form of "I love you."

Since you were a loyal employee, the position was taken for life.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 #f1 #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you

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residentdeviant · 26 days ago

Text

𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑰𝑵𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑩𝑰𝑳𝑰𝑻𝒀

── .✦ summary

⟢ you‘ve devised a plan to help solve the case and catch the unsub, but what if you don’t live ‘til the end of it?

── .✦ story notes !

⟢ written with re2r/re4r leon in mind ! also, i did my best to have this be a gender neutral reader, but if there’s anything that suggests otherwise, please let me know.

── .✦ word count

⟢ 3.4k !

── .✦ tags ! (warnings included)

⟢ d:bh au, android!leon, second-person, no use of y/n, nickname “lee” is used for leon bc it’s cute and i will die on that hill, angst, minor mention of brian irons, gore, mentions of chris redfield and jill valentine as well as rebecca chambers, fluff kinda???, you get a cat btw, happy ending!

── .✦ a/n !

⟢ this part has definitely been on the longer side of construction lol but i was determined to finish it. it’s unbelievably hard for me to finish projects but i powered through this for me and you! even though it did take me like six months… whoopsies.

⟢ part one!

⟢ part two!

6:57am.

“Good morning, detective,” Leon greeted with a smile as he saw you walk in, seemingly in a better mood this morning. Regardless, it was good to see him feeling better after everything you two had encountered last night.

You smiled at him in return, keeping things light for now. “Morning, Leon,” you reply, waving slightly with one hand and holding your cup of coffee in the other. You made your way to the west office once more, opening the door and walking towards your desk. Getting a shower and some rest last night was definitely needed as well as deserved, and you were more than grateful for both of those.

You pulled out your chair and sat at your desk, ready to get the day started and prepare to catch the guy behind all of this mess. RC was lost in darkness and chaos, repeating the same old loop continuously without stopping for breath, and you wanted to be one of the ones to save this forsaken city. If not you, then who else?

Simple chatter and the click-clacking of keyboard keys were all that could be heard within the west office, the morning starting off rather quiet and slow. You just wanted to get your morning load of work done before doing further investigation on the unsub you had spent the past few days chasing. His attacks were on a regular basis, seemingly everyday, so you suspected that it wasn't long until he would strike again.

As you worked through the practically endless stack of paperwork and android cases popping up every millisecond, you could feel the presence of someone behind you. As you turn, you could see that familiar blond android waiting for you, with the utmost patience. He hadn’t even said anything to disturb you, or even make any noise for that matter, but it was easy to sense another person within your vicinity.

Once you looked at him, his baby blue eyes flickered over to you and he gave you a polite smile before speaking. “We should figure out a plan soon. The sooner we catch the unsub and free the others, the better,” Leon suggested, carefully moving a bit closer to you.

“No worries, Lee. I’ve got it figured out already,” you began. He didn’t seem to expect that, but he welcomed it. “I just need to finish this paperwork, go through a few case details and study our guy a little more before we make any moves. He’s dangerous. We have no room for error.” The android nodded softly, silently agreeing with you.

You had predicted the unsub’s schedule, putting everything together and praying that this was going to work. You were undoubtedly putting your life on the line, yes, but it would be worth it in the end… if you lived long enough to make it to the end of the mission.

The plan you had devised was simple: pose as an android, wander in the unsub’s frequented grounds, get captured by him and then wait for the right time to take him into custody. It didn’t seem easy, and it sure wouldn’t be either, but you had to try. Androids weren’t just robots, designed to do humanity’s bidding — they had minds and hearts. They deserved better than what they got, and you were determined to help them by solving this case and locking this guy up for good.

—

6:37pm.

Night had fallen and your plan had begun. When you had told Leon about it, he seemed nervous? His behavior was slightly off and his LED had been spinning yellow for quite some time. You could tell he was probably worried about the outcome, but you knew what you had to do.

You wandered around the streets in your android uniform and an LED on your temple, acting as if you were working through a task assigned to you before you were suddenly approached by a man who looked like he didn’t know what a shower was. He had green eyes, greasy brown hair and he absolutely reeked. (Like anime convention type of reeked.) Not only that, but he had some odd stains on his clothes. Oil and thirium? That’s gotta be it.

“Excuse me, I need help…” he said, although not coming off as very convincing. “My wife… she’s in trouble. I think she’s having a heart attack. Please! You need to help me!”

This guy needs acting classes. Stat.

“Of course,” you replied, mimicking the rather direct behavior of most androids before following the man — who appeared to be your unsub — into his house. This is him. You knew this place. Now you just had to be cautious and continue with your plan so you could catch him in the act.

You and the man had entered the house, and as soon as he shut the door behind you, he kicked you down, murmuring expletives. It’s like meeting a younger version of Irons. You tried to get up, but he kicked you down once more and made sure you were weak before he dragged you downstairs.

—

“Are you sure that we should wait for their signal? I mean… What if they’re in trouble?” Leon questioned, his LED flashing to yellow for a split second as he looked towards Lieutenant Branagh, the pair camping out within a nearby black sedan. The android knew he should follow the plan, he knew he needed to keep the end goal in mind, but he struggled to do so knowing that there was a slight possibility that you wouldn’t make it out. This job was dangerous, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but… worry?

No.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^

He shouldn’t worry, he… he can’t worry. That’s a sign of deviancy. Androids don’t do that.

Stick to your code, get the job done.

“Are you doubting your partner, rookie?” Branagh questioned in return, turning the tables on the poor android. “They’re strong. They can handle themselves. Just trust us on this.”

The blond couldn’t really do anything but nod lightly and anxiously watch the establishment, worrying about you — even if you weren’t aware of it. A future without you was a future he didn’t want to be a part of. It’d kill him inside.

And that scared him.

He hadn’t even known you for that long, but you made him feel a type of way that he couldn’t understand. It was beyond his programming. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything, point blank. As much as he wanted to deny it and pretend that it certainly wasn’t true, Leon may have been deviating, and the only person he could ever tell was you.

—

You could feel the fear all of those androids felt as you were dragged down the stairs by your legs, and any fighting you did was practically useless. This guy was freakishly strong, which would’ve been good to know before you threw yourself in harm’s way. The moment he looked in another direction, you sent the signal and waited for backup. Meanwhile, you begged for your life, as you assumed any android would, as he lifted you and strapped you down on a chair, keeping you in place. The caged androids from before watched in horror, keeping silent but feeling a strong sense of remorse for you. He couldn’t remove vital parts from you and keep you alive like he had done with them, so this felt like your funeral.

“I’ll help you get out of here very soon, I promise.”

They just hoped your promise to them wouldn’t be broken and you’d continue to live on. You showed them kindness, and they would never forgive themselves if they couldn’t do the same for you.

The man who was confirmed to be your unsub was at a workbench, stained with thirium, oil and human blood. It was disgusting. One part of you knew your team was mere moments from busting in and taking this guy in for good, but the other part of you was still petrified. You could so easily be killed if they weren’t fast enough, and you hoped and prayed that they were.

As the dark-haired man grabbed his tools, a familiar face came sprinting down the stairs — 9mm in hand.

“Drop your weapons and put your hands up where I can see them!” he commanded. Leon, thank God. Lieutenant Branagh as well as a few other officers followed, aiming their guns at the suspect. Knowing he was caught for good, he raised his hands, allowing his loose sleeves to slide down a bit and reveal his left arm that used to belong to an android. He’s harvesting them for parts. God, that’s gross.

As Branagh and the other officers detained the man that was soon to be identified as Brent Phillips, Leon came over and helped you out of your confines before giving you a hug to help calm you down. Not only that, but to reassure him that you were safe, and no harm could be done to you anymore. There wouldn’t be another story like Samuel and Martha’s. You got to live, and he got to see your smile again — which was worth more than gold to him.

—

While your team took Phillips in, Leon stayed at the crime scene, doing further investigation. You freed the poor droids left to rot within the cage, deciding to get them fixed up and sent back to their original families. “You kept your promise,” one said with a soft voice, sounding slightly surprised yet grateful nonetheless.

“Of course I did. I couldn’t leave you guys behind,” you replied with a small smile. Another officer escorted the androids out, leaving just you and your own android friend in the dark, lonely basement.

It was quiet for a bit as you looked through Brent’s personal items, looking for any sort of motive behind the whole thing other than just using androids for spare parts. Oddly enough, you couldn’t find anything. Lots of family photos hidden away, so maybe he wanted to keep his happy and comfortable family life hidden away from his dark and twisted deeds.

“He lost his arm in a car accident,” the blond stated after shuffling through Brent’s journals. “He couldn’t afford a medical bill, so he stole androids and used them instead… but he got addicted. He kept messing with them… tore them apart, left them for dead like it’s nothing… like we’re nothing.”

Your eyes flickered over to Leon, examining his sorrowful expression as his LED shifted to yellow. You walked over to him, gently rubbing his back to try to ease him. “I’m sorry, Lee. But at least now, it can’t happen again. Lives were lost, but there were many more saved. It’s gonna be okay.”

The blond android sniffled a bit, and his LED slowly returned to blue once more. He thanked you before making his way upstairs to step outside for a bit and get some air. You looked around for a few more minutes before returning to him.

And when you did, you definitely weren’t planning on telling him that you found Martha in the mini fridge.

—

A few days had gone by and the case was closed. Brent was detained, Martha’s body had been found and sent into the lab, the other androids were free and everything else fell into place. You and Leon had officially finished your first case together and things were going pretty well. You could tell that he still felt guilty, however, almost as if he could prevent that situation. As if he could prevent death and destruction.

But the poor rookie also knew that it was part of the job. He couldn’t get attached. Attachment was a human emotion, and he was terrified of what could happen if anyone knew of what was happening inside the confines of his android mind. He knew everyone would rat him out, except maybe Branagh, but he knew you certainly wouldn’t.

So he’d cling onto you.

Not just because you’re partners and you’re also his only friend, but because he feels safe with you. He feels safe enough to share all of this with you. You’re the only one who has ever made him feel a sense of humanity and encouraged that. Anyone else would tell him that he had an instability error within his software and he needed to get it fixed immediately, but you were different. You were kind.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^

Leon wasn’t sure what this feeling inside his chest was. It was unfamiliar and certainly not in his programming. He needed to figure it out and fast.

–

Quite some time had flown by and androids have fought for equal rights, earning their freedom and the right to live just as humans do. Even so, Leon continues working for the police department, constantly having that desire to help those in need. Not only this, but he also has an apartment in the same building as you, which you helped him decorate after work for about four days. Although the finished result was quite lovely and you always wanted to help your friends, so there wasn’t a desire to complain.

Those aren’t the only changes, however. After the successes of your first three cases together, you and Leon are officially a team. Probably even one of the best that the RPD has to offer! You had taken on most of the android cases together and solved just about all of them. Branagh was pretty impressed and you two even received the opportunity to join S.T.A.R.S alongside Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine and Rebecca Chambers, but after some thought, the two of you politely declined. It just wasn’t in your interests at this time and you were happy with things as they are.

Except for one thing – you and Leon.

You were partners and now best friends, but now what? You wanted more than that. How could anyone be happy with just that? Maybe your coworkers would tease you about crushing on an android, and goodness knows what your relatives would say, but you knew that it didn’t matter what they thought. As long as you’re happy, then who cares?

But you weren't happy. Not like this. So you decided that you’d just have to tell him.

You just hoped he wouldn’t short circuit or something.

Your shift was coming to a close for the night and you couldn’t have been happier. Although you loved being able to help others through your job, you didn’t love the paperwork that came along with it. You powered through the last few pages and then began to grab your belongings, putting them in their rightful places before pushing your chair back towards your desk.

“Heading out for the night?” your blond partner asked, seemingly popping in out of practically nowhere.

You give him a nod and a small smile, “Yeah, I’m ready to go home and get dinner. Want a ride?”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Mere moments later, you and Leon were heading back to your apartment building in your car. Gentle rain pitter-pattered along the expanse of the automobile, bringing you two a sense of warmth and comfort during the cold night. Well, the heat was also on, so that probably helped, too.

The car ride was full of chatter at first as you two talked about what you had been up to lately other than work. He had been watching Star Wars movies again and playing videogames, you had been watching your own favorite movies and tending to your hobbies. The conversation died off after a while, and you quickly noticed that Leon seemed a little off, like he was thinking about something rather deeply. You decided to let him come to you when he was ready, but your train of thought was interrupted as he softly spoke your name.

“I need to talk to you about something,” the blond suddenly spoke, his tone and body language giving you the feeling that he was quite anxious.

“Yeah, sure… shoot,” you replied simply, eyes focused on the road.

He thought about his choice of words for a moment, and you swore you could almost hear the whirring of the fans in his android head, like when you haven’t cleaned your PS4 in a while and it sounds like a fighter jet taking off.

“I have this feeling when I’m with you, and I don’t know what it is exactly but I know it’s good. It’s a positive one, but not one I feel when I successfully accomplish a mission with no casualties or when I hang out with my friends or something. It’s different. It’s deeper than that, it’s…”

Love. He loves you.

The entire time, he wouldn’t look at you. He couldn’t look at you, even if he tried. His bionic heart was racing at what felt like a million miles an hour, and he was struggling to even find the words for what he was feeling. But he knew you’d understand; you always did. That was one of the many things he loved about you. You always made him feel understood and safe around you. Even before androids gained equal rights, you treated him as if he was your equal with no questions asked. You gave him the freedom to act and do as he so pleased, and he was immensely grateful for that. You gave him everything he could ever want, and in return, he wanted to give you his heart.

You smoothly pulled up to the apartment complex, parking in your usual spot and then turning to face Leon. He didn’t finish what he was going to say, but he figured that you already knew. He especially thought so when you looked at him a little closer and saw a slight blue tinge on his cheeks (which he made a feeble attempt to hide). He softly cleared his throat, turning to face you, although still shy about the whole ordeal. “So… if you’ll have me…”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

–

In the following months, you and Leon had gone on several successful dates that served to secure the beginning of your future together. The two of you often went stargazing, browsing in record shops and had countless movie marathons when you just wanted to stay home. You eventually moved into a nice house together, which had a mailbox decorated with your names and handprints. Not only that, but you even adopted a cat! (And totally didn’t name them after a Transformer…)

One night in particular, you and Leon were lying on your shared bed, comfortable as ever as he snuggled up behind you with your adorable cat resting in front of you. You were fast asleep, dreaming of goodness knows what, but it must be nice since you were smiling to yourself even in REM. Leon, however, was wide awake, listening to your soft breathing and remaining lost in his thoughts. It had been a long time that he had been living with human rights, and living with human feelings for even longer, but he still wasn’t used to them. He still lived within awe of your kindness and he still felt a sense of curiosity when you showed him any semblance of affection.

He may never know if he’ll ever adjust as easily as other androids do when it comes to stuff like this, but he does know one thing: he will always cherish it. He’ll always feel a sense of relief when either one of you returns home from work. He’ll always be grateful for the meals you share together. He’ll always love it when you sit on the back porch with a glass of lemonade in hand, gazing at him longingly as he happily does yardwork “like normal people do.” But most of all, he’ll always love you in any and every form. There’s nothing he wouldn't do for you.

As he closes his eyes and allows himself to go into a dormant state, he takes in everything about you and recommits it to his memory – hoping to dream about you. And as he sleeps, he knows that anything and everything in the world couldn’t be better than this. No treasure is as precious as a future with you.

I want to thank three of my loved ones for helping me proofread the whole series, but I also want to simultaneously apologize because they waited about four to six months for me to finish part three lol. I also want to thank you for reading this mini series! I appreciate all of the love and support you guys have given me and I couldn’t be more grateful. I haven’t written and uploaded a fic online in a good few years, but all of you have given me the confidence I needed to return to it.

I have another project in progress, but goodness knows when I’ll finish it lol. Until then, I will try to keep you guys updated and fed whenever possible. I love you all.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #android!leon #android!leon kennedy x reader #detroit become human au #resident evil

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morgana-larkin · 9 months ago

Text

Got a prompt messaged to me by someone who wants to remain anonymous. The prompt is: Melissa likes reader or OC that looks like Jodie. And the woman in the picture with Jodie is the reader/OCs best friend. Melissa thinks the brunette is dating reader/oc but they aren’t dating.

I had a lot of fun writing this, I’ll be honest. Also I would have had this up yesterday but audition season is here and I’ve been really busy going to those. I left this on a steamy cliffhanger, I might make a part 2. I’ll post the picture it’s referencing at the end of the fic in case you want to see it for reference. Anyways, as always not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: After I’m finished with all the prompts I currently have, I’m thinking of writing Marilyn and reader (redheads are my biggest weakness… I regret nothing)

Part 2

Blood As Green As Her Eyes

Warnings: Jealous Mel, references to smut, small not very detailed unfinished smut scene, good luck! 😉 😈

Words: 4.4k

Melissa walks into the break room and looks over to try and find you and sees you near the couch but you’re talking to someone she’s never met before. She walks a little further in and gets the tail end of the conversation.

“Alright see ya later beautiful.” You tell her.

“Right back at ya sweets.” The woman says and then leaves.

You see Melissa is there now and you go to her and sit at the table with her and Barb.

“Hello ladies.” You tell them and Barb smiles at you and Melissa glares at you.

“Who was that woman you were talking to?” She asks.

“Nicole? Oh she’s my best friend!” You say as you straighten your posture. “We’ve known each other for years. We met in high school and it was like instant connection.” You tell them excitedly.

Melissa doesn’t buy it though. With the way you talked to her and about her, it was obvious to Melissa that you’re dating her. Melissa ignores the sick feeling in her stomach.

The next morning you walk in the break room and your blonde hair is wet from the rain.

“Did you forget an umbrella hun?” Melissa asks you and you nod with a pout.

You go to sit down but then Nicole rushes in and you turn around.

“Hey you forgot your lunch on the way out. I gotta get to work but just wanted to drop it off quickly for you.” She tells you and hands you your lunch.

“Oh thanks love.” You tell her and Melissa scrunches her eyebrows. She knows you’re British, you have the accent and you told her, but the nickname threw her off.

“No problem sweets.” Nicole says and gives a quick kiss to your cheek then leaves. Melissa glares at Nicole the entire time. She clenches and unclenches her fists a few times to calm down. You put your lunch in the fridge then sit down at the table.

“Maybe I should go to the bathroom quickly and use the blow dryer to dry my hair.” You say with a chuckle and Barb laughs with you. Melissa just gives you a forced smile and you give her a confused look.

Melissa is bringing her kids to gym class that you teach. You see her and her class and you put your phone away instantly and give them a smile.

“Hey kiddos! Go on and get changed!” You tell them with a smile and they all run to the change room. You see Melissa still hanging around. “Hey, aren’t you gonna use the break to relax or whatever you do during this period?” You tell her curiously.

“No, I think I’m gonna hang around this time. Watch why they’re always so excited about gym class.” She tells you with a smile and you blush a bit.

“Alright! That’s not a problem at all! I would love for you to stay actually.” You tell her and the smallest blush makes its way to her cheeks.

“What were you doing on your phone btw? You put it away rather quickly. Are you sexting or something?” She jokes with you and you giggle.

“No! I was just texting Nicole something but it’s not as important as gym class.” You tell her and her blood boils a bit at the mention of her name. The kids start coming in with their gym clothes on and you turn to face them. “Alright guys! Today we’re playing dodgeball!” You tell them with a one clap of your hands and they all cheer. “And before we split up into teams, remember, no aiming at anyone’s face. And I’m looking at you Niyah.” You say and the girl just shrugs. Melissa goes to sit on the edge of the stage with her legs dangling off.

She watched as you picked 2 team leaders who then chooses their team. You then blow the whistle when they’re all ready with the balls in the middle of the gym. And then they all run to the middle to get a ball. You walk onto the stage and sit beside her and watch everyone. At some point, a ball comes directly at Melissa and you catch it then hand it to whoever is near you guys. You two end up talking while you still keep an eye on the kids.

And then Niyah throws a ball and hits a kid in the face and they fall. You immediately jump down and blow your whistle. “FREEZE!!!” You tell them and they all immediately stop and you run to the kid that was hit. “Niyah, we talked about this.” You tell her and she just shrugs again. You help the kid that fell to get up and make sure they’re alright. “Are you ok sweetie?” You ask very soothingly to him. He nods but looks upset. “Do you want to come sit with me and Ms Schemmenti on the stage for a bit?” You ask him and he nods again. You guide him to the stage and once he climbs up, you blow your whistle, signalling for the kids to continue the game. The boy ends up sitting in between you and Melissa and you look at his face again. “You have a small bruise forming but other than that, I don’t think there’s anything else.” You tell him and he seems upset that he got hit. “You know you’re very strong.” You tell him and he looks up at you. “You got hit in the face, fell down and you still got up.” You tell him with a smile. “That’s the mark of a strong person.” You continue and he smiles at you when you tell him that.

Melissa looks at you and sees how you are with the kids and can’t help but think of how beautiful you are, inside and out. 5 minutes later the boy asks if he can rejoin the game again and you nod at him. “Of course, you can rejoin whenever you want.” You tell him and he jumps off and runs back to the game.

You and Melissa continue talking and you notice how her hand is subtly touching your hip and you blush. The power this woman holds on you with just a touch.

In the morning the next day Melissa is on her phone scrolling through instagram. She’s mindlessly doing it until she comes across one of you and Nicole sitting together on a couch and you both have big smiles. Melissa freezes and stares at it and unconsciously grips the phone tightly.

“Melissa, are you ok?” Barb says and gently puts a hand on her upper arm for comfort.

“What? Oh, fine.” Melissa says and you walk into the room then and she smiles, then that smile immediately drops when she sees Nicole following you. “Actually I gotta go.” Melissa then says and grabs her stuff then stands up.

“Morning Melissa! Oh are you going somewhere? We were gonna join you.” You say innocently and with a big smile.

Barb sees how Melissa grips her pen so tight that her knuckles are turning white, while you are none the wiser.

“I’ve just got some stuff to do before school starts. I’ll see you later Barb.” She says with a frown and then walks out of there.

“Is she ok?” You ask Barb and she just looks at you confused as well. Then she replays in her head what happened. Melissa was scrolling on her phone through instagram and obviously saw something she didn’t like, then you came in and she smiled, and then it dropped. Why?

“Did you post something on instagram lately?” Barb asks and you nod. You showed her the picture you posted an hour ago that you took yesterday afternoon, then suddenly the pieces fall into place for Barb. Melissa likes you and she’s jealous of Nicole. Barb has to do some digging, cause while she doesn’t think you and Nicole are dating, Melissa might, and Barb has to be certain before she talks to Melissa. “Just out of curiosity dear, are you and Nicole going out? I mean like are you dating?” She asks and you shake your head.

“Me and Nicole?” You say while pointing towards you both, even Nicole is confused by the question.

“Why would you think that me and y/n are dating? I mean not that there’s anything wrong with y/n, it’s just, she’s not my type. Gender wise.” Nicole says.

“I mean ya I guess we can come across as a bit flirty but we’re just comfortable with each other.” You say with a smile. “Besides she’s not my type either, personality and looks wise.” You say and Nicole nods.

“Ya y/n is a great friend but would be a terrible partner for me.” Nicole says and all 3 of you laugh.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your type dear.” Barb asks you and you have to think about that. You know your type, and it’s Melissa, you have a crush on her and the only person who knows about your crush is Nicole and she’s been pushing you to get closer to her and ask her out. You want to tell Barb but she’s Melissa’s best friend, and while you know Barb won’t tell her if you tell her not too, it’d still be awkward if she knew. So you have to say your type without letting on that it describes Melissa.

“Well I guess women that have like a lot of spice to their personality, like they’re not plain.” You say with a big smile. “And I guess I do have a soft spot for fiery redheads.” You say a bit cautiously and you see that Barb’s expression hasn’t changed so I guess she hasn’t figured it out yet, so you continue. “And older women, I think they’re hot.” You say and Nicole playfully smacks your shoulder.

“Ya you and those milfs, I swear.” She tells you and you giggle. Barb looks at you two confused.

“What’s a Milf?” She says and you both look at her.

“It stands for Mom I’d Like to Fuck. But it’s also meant to describe older women that you think are hot.” You explain to her and her eyes widen a bit but you think it’s because of the description of Milfs and not of the woman you like.

“Is there anyone that you like right now dear?” She asks you and you nod timidly.

“Ya she does!” Nicole says and you glare at her. “I’m gonna leave now, gotta get to work, see ya sweets.” She tells you and waves at you and Barb goodbye.

“Is it Melissa?” She asks you and you snap your head at her and eyes wide a bit. That was all the answer Barb needed but of course you try to defend yourself.

“What?!? N-no…of course not! Why would you think I like Melissa?” You say, stuttering and stumbling through the entire sentence.

“I’m just wondering dear that’s all. I have something to do before school as well. I’ll see you at lunch dear.” She tells you and you say goodbye to each other.

Barb gets to Melissa’s room in time to see Melissa throw a pen across the room, and she sees no others on the redhead’s desk.

“How many pens have you thrown across the room?” Barb asks her and Melissa whips her head to her.

“I lost count.” She says to her, then goes to collect all of them. She picks up what looks to be about 10 pens and a couple markers and highlighters.

Barb wants to tell Melissa what she knows but thinks that Melissa might brush her off, so she decides to tell her tomorrow after she has time to blow off some steam. Which in retrospect, turns out to be a mistake.

Melissa goes to a gay club after to blow off some steam, and she ends up chatting it up with a girl there and then makes out with her at the club. You end up seeing that, as you also went to the club to try and move on from her since you think Melissa will never have an interest in you. Melissa ends up taking the girl home and you were watching her the entire night, she never saw you though. You really have to move on now. You end up telling Nicole what you saw and she said she can be around with you more in the mornings and after school so when you see the redhead, she can provide comfort for you.

So on the Friday morning, Melissa comes in with a small pep to her step as she had sex with the girl last night and you notice it. Nicole is with you though on the couch, you decided to stop sitting at the table with Melissa and Barb to avoid the redhead. As soon as Melissa walks in, she sees you and Nicole on the couch, and Nicole has an arm wrapped around your shoulders. Melissa gets angry at that and ends up taking it out on Jacob and throws his android at the wall with a “GO BACK TO THE BLUE BUBBLE!” She yells at him and Jacob tries to act like that didn’t faze or scare him.

You look over at Melissa when that happens and she catches your gaze. You two lock eyes for a second then you turn back to Nicole and Melissa stomps out of there. Melissa ends up telling Barb that she went to the gay club last night and hooked up with a girl, and later you end telling Barb that you went to the club as well when she asked what was wrong.

“I went to the gay club last night and being there just didn’t help anything.” You told her and even if you don’t say it, Barb knows you saw Melissa there, and she knows Melissa didn’t see you.

Over the next couple of weeks, Nicole has been coming with you into the break room in the morning or you go to your classroom with her to avoid the redhead, and she meets you after school to avoid Melissa as well.

“Hiya sweets!” She greets you one Friday afternoon and then you end up catching Melissa giving a glare in your direction. You see that it wasn’t directed at you though, it was directed at Nicole and you got confused.

You and Melissa both end up at the club again only it was reversed this time. She sees you there and you don’t see her. She sees you there alone looking upset and Nicole nowhere to be seen. And then she decides to go and talk to you. Before she gets to you however, a girl comes up and starts talking to you before she does. She freezes and sees that the girl is flirting with you and you seem to be liking it. That makes her confused because as far as she knows, you’re dating Nicole and you’re monogamous. She starts to get jealous again and stomps out of there before she starts a fight with either that girl who’s flirting with you or some random person.

On Monday morning she decides to talk to you at lunch. She knows that for some reason you seem to avoid the break room now so she’ll have to go down to your classroom. You at the moment are having a discussion with Nicole before school starts.

“What are you going to do y/n? Cause you can’t avoid Melissa forever and I can’t always come down to support you.” She says and you sigh.

“I know, it’s just hard right now. I mean ever since I saw her take that girl home a few weeks ago. I just keep thinking about it.” You tell Nicole and she nods.

“I keep telling you to talk to her.” Nicole tells you and you sigh.

“You know I won’t. You don’t have to come with me in the mornings anymore you know. I can just hide out in my classroom. I mean there’s what? 16 weeks left until summer break. And then I can spend the summer just getting over her. And then she’ll never even know how I felt cause then it’ll go back to normal next school year.” You say confidently. Melissa sees your door mostly closed and decides to keep walking, knowing that Nicole’s in there too. You hear her heels and you go and look out your door and see her walking to her classroom. You think it’s good that she didn’t stop by your classroom or else she might have heard your confession and you let out a sigh of relief.

“If you just tell her then you’ll know if she likes you or not. I mean what if she likes you back?” Nicole says and you shake your head at her. “Honestly you lesbians are so dramatic.” Nicole teases you and you flip her off. “I love ya too y/n.” She says and then leaves for work.

At lunch Melissa comes to see you after grabbing her lunch from the fridge. She runs into Barb and tells her she’s going to see you and Barb smirks and tells her good luck.

She arrives at your door then Melissa takes a deep breath and knocks on your door. You open it and almost slam the door back in her face but instead you just freeze.

“Hi.” She tells you and leans on the doorframe. She’s so cute you think and then remove those thoughts, not the time to check her out.

“Something you want Melissa?” You ask her as neutral as possible and she’s slightly taken back by this. You usually have a big and bright smile when you greet her.

“I just wanted to know if you were ok? I haven’t seen you as much lately.” She says and you look at her eyes then look away from her eyes as fast as possible.

“I’m fine, just don’t feel like being in the break room.” You tell her.

“Why?”

“That’s personal.” You tell her with a bit of a snap to it.

“Can I come in?” She asks you and you shake your head.

“No.” You tell her flatly.

“Why not?” She asks you confused. “You always were happy to have people around in your classroom to visit you.” She tells you.

“Well I decided that I’m going to avoid people from now on.” You say and go to close your door, but Melissa with quick hands, stops it and pushes it back open and you stumble back from the force a bit. Melissa takes the opportunity and walks in and closes and locks the door. She then turns to look at you with an unimpressed look. “What?” You ask her and she walks towards you, you however began to walk backwards to avoid her and she keeps walking towards you. You then get stopped by your desk and Melissa traps you there and looks at you closely.

“What’s going on with you hun?” She asks and you begin to breathe deeply. You don’t reply and she continues to try and get you to talk. “I saw you at the club on Friday night, flirting with that girl.” She tells you and your eyes go wide then you narrow your eyebrows at her.

“So?” You question her.

“You seem to be enjoying it and playing along. I thought you were dating Nicole.” She tells you and the built up anger that was starting inside you immediately disappears and all that’s left is confusion.

“You think Nicole and I are together?” You tell her and press your lips together to try and suppress a laugh.

Melissa looks confused. “Um ya, I mean it’s kinda obvious. She’s always with you, you guys constantly are talking, she comes in with you to school and picks you up after. You’re constantly flirting and posting pictures of the both of you together.” She says those last 2 with some anger and you quirk an eyebrow at her.

“Melissa, her and I are just friends. We may sometimes seem flirty but it’s innocent. She’s straight and she’s not my type.” You say and Melissa leans back, immediately releasing you and you get out from her entrapment. “Melissa what is all this about? You’re acting distant lately.” You say and she looks at your desk and has her fingers on it.

“I don’t like seeing you two together.” Is all she says.

“Why?”

“Because I thought you were together.” She says plainly and then it all hits you at once. The way she leaves when she sees Nicole with you, the glares she sends at Nicole, the way she ignores you both when you go to talk to her, the way her personality changes as soon as Nicole is in the room. Melissa is jealous.

“Is it because you don’t have a partner? Because it can be so easy for you to find one. I mean you found someone to hook up with a few weeks ago.” You tell her and her eyes widen.

“You were at the bar that night?” She asks and you nod.

“I saw you make out with her and then take her home with you.” You say disappointedly.

Melissa pieces it all together right then and there and smirks. She stalks towards you and traps you against the wall on the side where your doors are.

“Did you get jealous by that?” She asks you and you shake your head.

“What?!? Me? Jealous of you with another girl? Why would I get jealous of that?” You say and your voice gets high in pitch and she grins. You gulp as she gives you a look that she doesn’t believe you.

“I think you are jealous by that.” She tells you and lowers the pitch of her voice. “Tell me, did you want it to be you that I took home that night?” She asks and you look at her with a huge blush and you can’t find it in you to lie to her, so you nod. “Well do you want to know what I was thinking when that girl flirted with you?” She asks and you nod again. “I thought that I wish it was me flirting with you instead of that girl. She is just a girl who probably doesn’t know how to properly satisfy another girl yet.” She tells you and then leans in to your ear. “I’m much more experienced and know how to satisfy a girl all night.” She whispers in your ear and you shiver. “Ugh I was so jealous when I thought you and Nicole were together, I was mad. And then you started avoiding me and she was over every day and I wasn’t able to keep taking it. I went to that club every night and kept sleeping with girls to get my mind off of you and blow off some steam.” She tells you and you look at her surprised.

“You’ve been sleeping with a bunch of girls?” You ask her shyly and she nods.

“And either they weren’t experienced or maybe it’s because they weren’t you, I don’t know which one but it wasn’t any good.” She says and you look at how close she is.

“Can you let me go?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

“Do you know how much time I’ve spent picturing you in my bed, underneath me or up against my wall at my house. How many times I’ve spend fantasising about you when I’m touching myself?” She asks and you shake your head. “I mean fuck y/n, you drive me crazy.” She tells you and you’re a blushing mess right now but find enough strength in you to speak.

“I… I fantasise about you too.” You tell her and she smirks at you.

“Really?” She asks and you nod. “What do you fantasise about?” She whispers near your ear and you gulp.

“I-I picture you on top of me, domi…dominating m-me.” You start and you’re very nervous, but her smirk makes you continue. “And I imagine what it would be like to feel you inside of me and making me beg to let me come.” And while you speak, she drives her knee closer and closer to your core. Until she hits it and you squeak and buck your hips.

“Keep going.” She tells you while grabbing your hips and you gulp again before continuing.

“I thought about…about what your breasts would look like and-” you get cut off by you gasping as she moves your hips forward, making you grind against her thigh. “I thought- I thought about what your lips would feel like on mine and all over me.” You continue with difficulty and eventually you don’t need her hands guiding you as you’re turned on enough and you continue grinding her thigh on your own. She removes her hands from you and places them beside your head and then places her lips on your neck and starts kissing and sucking. She then tells you to continue. “Omg, Mel-Melissa.” You say a bit loud and she has to cover your mouth with her hand.

“I guess you can’t continue, since you’re loud.” She says against your neck. You’re close to coming about a minute later and she pulls away and you whip your head at her in shock.

“What? Why’d you stop? I was so close.” You say and she smirks.

“Oh I know. But I want to see your whole body and be inside you while you come underneath me.” She says seductively. “I want to take out all my jealousy on this pretty body of yours.” She says and bites your ear then pulls back again. “Why don’t you come to my house after school?” She asks and you immediately nod. “Good, now don’t touch yourself during the rest of lunch, I want you begging me for release tonight.” She tells you and you nod her head.

Melissa then grabs her lunchbox and then goes back to the break room. She enters with a grin on her face and the trio looks at her confused, Barb sees the grin but doesn’t comment on it. She just smiles and shakes her head.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

Let me know if you want to be added!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic

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lionhanie · 7 months ago

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han taesan ; back 2 u (part one)

you can’t help but find yourself coming back to taesan everytime

this is part one of my series, back 2 u! read the previous part here!

fuckboy!taesan x fem!reader, college au

...featuring! BFFS jaehyun + woonhak, fuckboy leehan (AND he's taesan's roommate), and lovely roomies sungho + riwoo <3

word count: 1.7k

warnings: cursing, alcohol mention and usage, party mentions, TAESAN IS A BIG FLIRT, reader lowkey doesn't like him lol

a/n: fuckboy taesan i won;t U so bad .. . .. </3

likes ♡ and reblogs ↺ always appreciated!

You would’ve never expected yourself to be involved with Han Taesan, well-known on campus equally for his pretty face and his ability to have someone new under his arm every week. Your school wasn’t necessarily huge, but it was impressive to think that most students had some inkling about who Han Taesan was.

His existence frustrated you deeply, actually. There wasn't any actual reason to hate him per se, but it was aggravating to think that some people just have so much going for them. Not only was he undeniably attractive to anyone who had eyes, he was also known for his unmistakable musical talent and a captivating charm that drew people in immediately. It’s almost comical the way you could be minding your business in class only to overhear a group of girls a couple seats over talking about how handsome Taesan was at a party last weekend or who his most recent fling could be.

Despite everything you’ve heard people say concerning him, you found it hard to believe he was such a player. Sure, he may have some good looks, but he looks… Innocent, in a way. Harmless.

The first time you’d interacted was in the library. You’ve noticed him in there on various occasions while you were working, but never paid much mind to it, given that he’d only look around the bookshelves for a couple minutes before seeing himself out. Taesan was standing right in front of the library’s help desk, where you worked for a couple hours in between classes. “By any chance, would I be able to check out this book?” He’s holding it out to you, and you’re surprised to find that he’s renting out one of your favorite novels.

“Yup, I’m just going to need your name and student ID. You can only get it for four days at a time, but you’re free to come back and renew the book if you need more time with it,” You type away at the keyboard in front of you, opening up the form you needed to fill out for book rentals. “That’s a good book, by the way.” Your small talk is unnecessary, but your job was too boring not to make conversation with the few people that actually used your services.

“Yeah, I’ve been eyeing it for a while,” He’s smiling as he takes his card out from the back of his phone case, sliding it to you on the counter. “Ah, my name is Han Taesan. And here’s my ID.” Picking it up, you notice that the name he’d just given you didn’t match the one on his ID. Han Dongmin? You were almost sure this was Taesan, though. Sensing your confusion, he chuckles as he moves to explain the mismatching names. “Most people know me as Taesan, not Dongmin. It’s just a nickname, really. Does it matter what name I use to check out the book?” He tilts his head as he looks back up at you, waiting for your response.

“No, not really. It’ll be linked to your ID anyways, so it should be fine.” You scan his ID on the card reader next to you, allowing you to finish up the form splayed out on the monitor. Taesan drums his fingers on the counter, glancing around the near-empty library; he’s humming the melody to a song you don’t know. “You’re all set, Dongmin.” You slide his receipt and a piece of paper telling him when he needs to return the book under the cover before giving it back to him.

He’s caught off-guard at hearing his real name come from your mouth, but he flashes you a grin regardless. “Have we met somewhere before…” Taesan’s sentence trails off until he notices the name tag pinned to your shirt, “...Y/N?”

This time, you’re the one caught off-guard. “Sorry, is it better for me to call you Taesan?” You question. He’s probably only striking up a conversation because he doesn’t like people calling him by his real name— that probably explains why people call him Taesan instead. “And no, I don’t think we have.”

“Nah, keep calling me Dongmin. It sounds nice coming from you.” He’s leaning on the counter now, close enough for you to notice the luxurious-smelling cologne coming off of him. “You’ll be one of the few people who call me that, you know.” His comment makes you roll your eyes playfully, scoffing at the way he’s making it sound like a special honor for you to be able to call him that. “Are you free this weekend?”

The clicking of your keyboard stops as you finally look at him properly, feeling slightly bashful at the sudden question paired with his intense stare. “...Why do you ask?” Your initial perceptions of Taesan quickly dissolve, as you now realize that this is the type of person he really is. Looks really can be deceiving. He smirks at the expression on your face, happy with himself knowing he has such an effect on someone he just met.

He slides his phone over to you, just like he had done with his student ID just moments ago. You take a peek at it, curious about its contents, only to see a blank “New Contact” screen waiting for you. “Number?” He asks for a girl’s number… Like this? It irritates you to think that he’s probably used this exact sequence numerous times without fail, and now he’s here using it on you while you’re at work.

Hesitating briefly, you pick up the phone and type in your info— You hate how easily you give in to him, almost wishing you played a bit harder to get, but it’s hard to say no to the handsome face of Han Taesan directly asking you for your number. “I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Okay,” You reply, completely baffled at the interaction that just unfolded all in the span of less than ten minutes. Taesan slips his phone into his pocket and tucks the book he rented under his arm, giving you a small smile as he steps away from the desk. As you watch him walk out the sliding doors, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Next to you, your phone screen lights up.

4 new messages from “Unknown Number”! it’s dongmin [address] come saturday if ur free, starts at 10 i’d love to talk to u again, y/n :-)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Just this once, you’re grateful that Han Taesan is so widely known, because it was surprisingly easy to find friends who were already planning on attending Saturday’s party. You were at ease knowing you’d at least have Riwoo and Sungho to fall back on if the nerves suddenly took over.

You wish you could say that you debated on not coming, but that’d be a complete lie, because you’re currently standing in the middle of Riwoo and Sungho’s shared apartment throwing back shots to pregame. “It’s been a while since you came out with us Y/N! What’s the occasion?” Sungho randomly interrogates you while refilling the empty shot glasses on the counter.

Biting your lip, you contemplate your response: Should you lie and say you just felt like partying this weekend? You’re well aware of the fact that the pair of roommates in front of you are friends with Taesan… So it wouldn’t be weird to mention him now, right? But then again, his parties are huge. Chances are, he invites random strangers to them all the time, so there’s no need for you to act like your interaction at the library was anything special— You’re about to answer when your phone screen flashes on the kitchen island.

2 new messages from “Han Dongmin”! i’ll see u later ya? ik u won’t leave me hanging again y/n ;P

The notification exhilarates you. Was he looking forward to seeing you tonight? It annoys you slightly to think that Taesan knew you’d show up, even if you’d never confirmed the matter. “Ah… I didn’t know you were friends with Taesan, Y/N!” Riwoo reads the text off your phone from over your shoulder as he moves to pick up one of the shots Sungho just poured. Guess he chose the answer to your internal turmoil for you. “Now that I think of it, how come we’ve never gone to any of his parties together before?”

Mirroring his actions, you take a glass for yourself and finish it in one clean gulp, wincing at the burn it sends down your throat. “Hm, I don’t think I’d call us friends. He asked for my number at the library the other day.” You correct him, explaining the encounter you shared with Taesan two days prior.

Being the last to take their shot, Sungho hums in understanding across from you. You can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to actually get to know the kind of person Han Taesan is; Would he maintain the tension with his flirty remarks? Or is he just a normal college student that doesn’t actually live up to the reputation he’s made for himself around campus?

“So, Y/N, do you think he’s hot?” Sungho blurts out, making you choke on your spit. Riwoo giggles from beside you, patting your back as you finish your coughing fit. “I mean, we don’t care if you think he is. Taesan’s a handsome guy. Hell, half the student population probably thinks so too!” Sungho’s contagious laughter fills the kitchen, making you and Riwoo laugh along with him.

“Well duh, why wouldn’t I think he’s hot?” There’s a smile on your face as you admit your attraction to the boy in question. Han Taesan is definitely intriguing. The alcohol feels like it’s finally made its way through your system, the room feeling a bit warmer than it was earlier. The three of you didn’t drink much; just enough to give you a little more courage to go to the party without feeling too nervous. You take a glance at the clock on their microwave: 10:43PM. “Shouldn’t we get going?”

taglist: @minwrlds @luna2nite @taesancore @taesanmoon @helpsplease @taylorluvation (send an ask / comment if you want to be added hehe)

#boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor #bnd #bnd x reader #x reader #taesan #han taesan #boynextdoor taesan #taesan x reader #kpop fic #kpop #han dongmin #han dongmin x reader #riwoo #sungho #boynextdoor riwoo #boynextdoor sungho #ᯓᡣ𐭩 my writing #✧.* back 2 u

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bookishgalaxies · 4 months ago

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𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ❥

pairing: albedo x gn!reader

type: headcannons, not proofread

warnings: fluff, so much fluff

a/n: I’m such a simp and I know I have requests and other drafts and calculus homework but it is his birthday!!! I had to post something !!

————————★————————

❥ for starters I know this boy confessed in the most deliberate way

❥ we’re talking you were simply doing a task with him in the room and he just turns and goes

❥ “I’ve been reading lately about human relationships and at what point you should attempt to have one. I’ve concluded that I would like to date you, if at all possible.”

❥ “I’m not participating in another experiment. The last time I did I was sick for five days.”

❥ “This one I confess is not an experiment. I read about the conditions for when people know they want a relationship with someone and all of them lined up with my feelings towards you.”

❥ “Are you asking me out?”

❥ “I believe that is the more common term for it, yes.”

❥ I think at first he’s VERY shy. Not in a uwu won’t say anything shy. I actually imagine he isn’t a bad conversationalist. He likes having long talks and asking you about your aspirations and how you acquired them.

❥ I think he’s shy in the sense that he’ll brush his hand against your’s gently as if asking to hold it. As well as leaning in really close and then whispering the question of if he can kiss you.

❥ Albedo really enjoys drawing you. I know it is a cliche headcannon of his but I had to include it. I just genuinely believe to him he enjoys looking at you, no matter what your appearance is, and attempting to memorize every shape and line so he can draw you well.

❥ He also enjoys just being around you. He wants you to be there while he’s doing experiments. If you are into alchemy or interested in it/interested in helping him, great! If not, he would want nothing more than for you to stay and do your own thing. The feeling of your presence warms his heart.

❥ Dragonspine always gets colder in the winter months and you best believe he always gives you his coat.

❥ “Albedo, you are going to freeze without it. I’m not taking the jacket”

❥ “Your human body will freeze much faster than mine, please, I insist.”

❥ As for nicknames and things I genuinely think Albedo just calls you by your name. He likes the way it sounds and uses it quite often. If you want to be called by a specific pet name he doesn’t mind but he definitely enjoys just calling you hy your name.

❥ His sleep schedule was shit before you came along but it has significantly improved. He observed how you enjoyed cuddling with him and how much faster you fell asleep. So now anytime you retire for the night he does the same.

❥ There may have still been a few all nighter’s pulled by him though where you find him asleep in his chair, head on the desk.

❥ I’ve seen a lot of people say that Albedo wouldn’t be good at cooking and I don’t really agree. I mean, I don’t think he’s fantastic at it but he’s decent.

❥ I do however believe he SHINES in the baking department! Baking is about a lot of precision with ingredients and instructions. Albedo as an alchemist does that everyday with his research.

❥ I just know one time he made you heart shape cookies and wrote cute messages on them

❥ I believe that is it for right now, I may add more later. Happy birthday to this lovely alchemist !!

————————★————————

thank you so much for reading !!

have a nice day/night !!

#albedo #albedo x reader #albedo x you #albedo genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #albedo kreideprinz

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dallasgallant · 7 months ago

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Defining Rodeo-

I’ve been to a few rodeos in my life but I could not tell you a single actual term or rules. And the fandom doesn’t utilize the fact that rodeos are a decent part of a few characters, as they really should. So I wanted to look up and define a few terms that are used in hopes we get more lol

Jockey/Pickup rider-

Dally is described as ‘jockying’ for Slash J, which from what I can figure out must be Buck’s company or ranch. Jocky/pickup rider is someone works in roughstock competitions ; bareback, saddle bronc and bull riding.

Dally might do bronc but Cherry has a remark about his bull riding! So he’s doing the most dangerous thing you could possibly do, which- yeah that’s Dally.

Roughstock/Saddle bronc-

Both Dally and Soda compete in Roughstock events but Soda specifically was saddle bronc. Which is self described, specifically a horse and not bareback.

Barrel race-

Cherry and Marcia.

Mostly women with the occasional man though typically on youth levels. The goal is to go in a pattern around the barrels the fastest and is one of the harder events.

Team roping-

I had a particularly hard time in figuring out if this was relevant to the outsiders or not. As there’s multiple things pointing to it being the case but I’m also not certain.

Dally is partners with Buck- and while that might be business(who’s to say it’s not both), this is a team/duo aspect of rodeos and would be likely due to his nickname(Idk if this was intentional as his name IS Dallas but it’s funny).

BUT there’s mention of rigged races and “Jockey” (which is lesser used in a rodeo sense than an outright race sense but still used) which confused the hell out of me because the only race is a barrel race or wild horse at some rodeo’s. Which didn’t seem to fit right to be— unless he also does traditional racing on the side? OR they mean “race” as competition broadly as one could argue a lot of stuff in rodeo is a race because it’s against the clock? -> if anyone has a more solid idea please let me know!

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ihearthes · 2 years ago

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Title: Hole in One

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 3100

The sky is the bluest it’s been in months, and I hear birds singing from the trees surrounding the private course. My clubs have been unused for far too long, and I cannot wait to feel the grass beneath my feet. Spying my grandparents talking to a young man who I assume is the club’s pro, I make my way in their direction, eager to get onto the green. The giddy skip in my step is undeniably partly due to the excitement of playing the game again, but mostly because I’ve not seen my jetsetter grandparents since Christmas.

“Grammy! Gramps!” I call, my hand waving as they turn towards me. Wrapping my grandmother in a hug, I put out my hand for a high five with my grandfather. Gleefully, he obliges.

“So glad you could join us!” Grammy whoops. “Let me look at you.” Taking my hands, she steps back to survey me in that way that must be a full chapter in the Grandparent Training Manual. “Looking sexy as hell,” she laughs, her greeting likely not in that same manual. “Twirl for us.” She makes that motion with her finger, and I oblige.

As I spin around, my skort not moving in any way that would make a twirl necessary, my grandfather applauds as if I were a five year old at her first ballet recital.

“Two of the biggest dorks I know,” I giggle. “I’m so happy to see you!” Excitedly, I pull them in for a group hug, wondering why the golf pro hasn’t excused himself yet. So when I step back, I pointedly look in his direction.

And promptly freeze.

Fuck. Nope. Not the golf pro. Nor the course manager. Not anyone who works at the place.

“Hi. I’m Harry.” He leans forward to shake my hand, his left leg raising behind him as a counterbalance to his inclining body. “You must be Birdy.”

Horrified, I grasp his warm hand, my eyes roaming over his face with that stupid hair clip firmly holding back his bangs and his green eyes examining me, a smile on his face as his dimple deepens. Flustered, I don’t give him my birth name. “A nickname, of course,” I remark inanely.

“I’m just hoping it doesn’t bode ill for my game today.” His gray pants are matched with a dark blue pullover sweater, a white turtleneck underneath.

How my mouth continues to work is beyond me, but I throw my head back and laugh loudly. Probably too loudly as I’m feeling a mixture of terror and arousal, and the laughter is decidedly nervous. “I’ve never been a threat to anyone on the golf course,” I comment.

“With grandparents as young as yours, I expected someone younger.” Harry thinks he’s being coy, but my grandmother responds honestly.

“We’re ancient, Harry, and our Birdie is 31 now. And not getting any younger.” Pointedly, she looks at me as though I had offended her in some way.

“We’re up,” Gramps points, and we haul our clubs to the first tee.

“What’s your handicap?” Harry asks as Gramps swings a few times for practice.

“23,” I announce proudly, on the low end of average. “You?”

“14,” he brags, adding a wink for good measure, an indication that he is aware of his boast. Not that I can complain since I’ve also gloated about my below-average number. He’s too handsome and charming for my comfort, and I engage my attention on my clubs, polishing my driver before withdrawing it from my bag.

Amiable enough, Harry diverts his focus onto my grandmother, and I’m grateful for the respite to catch my breath.

“You must go first, Vivienne.”

I want to interrupt and tell him we always go with the oldest first, which is my gramps, but my grandmother has already fallen for Harry’s charm, and she giggles like a schoolgirl as she makes her way to the tee.

After my grandfather and I have each teed off, Harry prepares for his turn. In those tight golf trousers, his arse is as well defined as the ostentatious naked statue in the fountain at the entrance to the golf club. I find myself unable to stop staring as he bends down to place his tee, and his form when he swings is a thing of beauty. No wonder he has a low handicap. Why couldn’t he be a failure at just one thing in his life? And why couldn’t it be golf?

Noting where his ball lands, Harry removes his sunnies from the vee of his sweater and slides them over his eyes, shielding his expression. With a nod at the three of us, he twists his body, ready to move on.

“Shall we?” Gramps gestures, and I hoist my clubs onto my shoulder again, setting off behind the elderly couple who head for a single golf cart. “Sorry, Birdy.” He casually throws over his shoulder as we approach the small vehicle. “We got the last cart. You and Harry will have to walk. But don’t worry. Your grandmother and I will do our best not to burn rubber.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if my grandparents were trying to play matchmakers. But they wouldn’t have any idea who Harry is. Although maybe it doesn’t matter to them. Perhaps my grandparents just want to pair me up with any Tom, Dick, or ….Harry.

“Mhm. See that you don’t get a speeding ticket, Gramps!” I yell as they take off, leaving Harry and I trailing behind.

“You seem like a chip off the old block,” Harry jokes as we hike towards the hole. “Get it? Cause a chip is a golf shot.”

“Oh, I understood the joke, but it was bad,” I groan. “No ifs, ands, or putts about it.”

His eyes widen. “I see. It’s like that, is it?”

We both giggle, and when he shoves my shoulder at my next golf pun, I wonder if he’s flirting with me. As if Harry Styles needed to flirt with anyone.

It’s on the fourth fairway that my Gramps gets involved with a joke of his own. “Hey, Harry?”

“Yes, sir?” The polite reply comes as I’m replacing my divot.

“Why do the golf pros tell you to keep your head down during golf lessons?”

“I don’t know, Rufus.” Harry withdraws his 3-wood and addresses the ball, shaking his hips in such a way that if my grandparents weren’t around, I’d probably faint. “Why?”

“So you can’t see them laughing.” Gramps guffaws, and Harry shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tilted up as he takes a deep breath and launches his ball closer to the green.

My grandparents always make me laugh, but today they seem in finer form than usual, as they joke with Harry, my grandmother clearly vamping. Before today, I’ve never wondered if my grandfather was anything other than straight, but the way he touches Harry at every opportunity makes the wheels in my head churn.

On the 8th hole, Grammy takes a mulligan after her ball sails into the water hazard, just short of making it across. She sighs, pulling another ball from her bag and muttering goodnaturedly to Harry. “Golf balls are just like eggs. They’re white, round, and you need another dozen every week.”

Harry slaps his knee as he giggles at her pathetic joke. I can almost convince myself that he’s having the time of his life playing golf with these 78-year-olds. He gives every appearance of enjoying the late afternoon game. No wonder no one has anything unkind to say about him. Well, no one he’s met anyway.

As we walk to the 9th hole, I decide to dive in and bravely ask the question that’s been on my mind for the last two and a half hours. “Why did you join us today?”

Startled, he twists his head to look at me. “You had three. I was a late single player. The pro added me to your party. Simple.”

“Okay.” I draw the word out, wondering if I should ask the follow-up question, and when he continues glancing at me curiously, I go for it. “But why do you have a free day today? And why didn’t you bring someone with you?”

He turns his head away from me, but I still see that left dimple deepen as he shrugs. “I decided on a whim that I wanted to golf in this perfect weather, and my manager was busy preparing for tomorrow night’s show.” Turning around, he walks backwards so he can face me. “But I never thought I’d meet such a fun –” his eyes never leave mine, “and sexy companion.”

I can feel the red creeping up from my toes through my body to flush my face. How does he do it? Flirting so openly without being gross? If anyone else had delivered that line, I would have gagged. Instead, I pretend that his comment has had no effect on me – like I’m not going to need dry panties before dinner with my grandparents.

“Harry!” My grandfather yells from where he and my grammy have stopped at my ball. “You better watch where you’re going! Sometimes people don’t replace their divots.”

The musician nods to me courteously as though he hadn’t just made my heart flutter. Turning to face forward, he continues on the pathway where we finish the 9th hole.

“Birdie,” Grammy stoutly announces to me as she climbs back into the cart. “Your grandfather and I are tired. We’re going to head to the clubhouse and have a drink, but you and Harry should play the back nine.” With that, my grandparents wave to us as their cart drives off towards the start.

Oh.

Well.

That was unexpected.

This is unexpected.

Harry has put his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “Well?” He watches me carefully, and I know the decision to continue is mine.

“I doubt I’ll get to play with someone like you again, so we might as well continue.”

“Someone like me? A celebrity?” Seeming genuinely confused, he removes his sunnies and scratches his head near that damn hair clip.

“A duffer,” I tease.

“If that’s the case, it’s because your beauty has distracted me from my game today.” His eyes twinkle when he makes the comment, and that’s the moment I know the flirting is on in earnest.

When we reach the 12th green, I can’t stand being so close to him without letting him know I am up for more. As he squares up for his putt, but before he pulls the club back to take the shot, I whisper loud enough for his ears only, “If you miss this putt, I’ll let you kiss me.” He doesn’t hesitate, taking the shot that rolls right at my feet where I’m holding the flag. And yet somehow the ball doesn’t go in.

“Does that deal count if I accidentally missed?”

Biting my lip, I tilt my head and observe him. “Hmmm…I’m not sure. It’s kind of offensive that you wouldn’t want to miss it on purpose. I mean, here I am, perfectly kissable. I’m going to say no. It doesn’t count.”

Stalking towards me, he picks up his golf ball and tosses it to the edge of the green. “How about now?” His voice is a growl, and he’s standing close enough for me to feel the heat emanating from his body.

Fuck. He’s so hot. Beyond sexy.

I glance around the course quickly to see if anyone is nearby. Spotting no one, I tilt my head up to him. Harry grabs my chin with two fingers, staring into my eyes before he brushes his lips over mine. The moan that emits from my throat is heartfelt and demands more from him, but he steps back, his hand dropping to his side.

Hooded eyes rake over me, and he smirks. “You’ve never met a golfer with a more delicate stroke than me.”

“Promises, promises,” I tut, holding out the flag for him to take so I can putt.

A few holes later, and all pretense has dropped as Harry rests his hands on my hips while I’m lining up my shot. “Are you sure you know how to hold a shaft correctly?” His voice in my ear is so gravelly that I want to drop onto my knees right there on the fairway and show him exactly how skilled I am at handling a shaft.

“Be careful there, Harry,” I murmur, “You’re like a water hazard. You’ve got me soaking wet.”

“Fuck.” Stepping back from me, he shakes his head. “How many holes?”

“Three,” I comment, and my eyes bat of their own accord, I swear!

“Jesus!” He runs his hand over his face. “You’re like a fairway: short, well-groomed, and a pleasure to hit on.”

“Are you saying you’d like to improve our stroke game together?”

“I’m saying that I’m not going to make it back to the clubhouse at this rate.”

“Well…” I approach him, again searching the nearby greens for golfers, “...my golf coach says I have a firm grip. Do you want to see if it’s true?”

“Birdy…” His voice is strangled as I ease my hand over the front of his trousers, feeling his length where it’s tucked safely high and to the left. The air exits his lungs at a faster velocity than a golf swing. “Get your clubs,” he commands, roughly replacing the putter he’d withdrawn and grabbing my hand.

Yanking me behind him, Harry leads the way towards the parking lot where he uses an electronic key to open the vehicle and throw in his clubs before grabbing my golf bag and more gently placing it on top of his so that the two golf bags look to be spooning.

“Get in,” he insists, and I don’t hesitate to scurry to the passenger side.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my hands in my lap after I’ve buckled the seatbelt. The quivering in the lower part of my body will only be appeased in one way.

“Shit. I’ve no idea,” he sighs, not putting the car in drive. “My hotel is too far.”

“Switch places with me,” I suggest, knowing exactly where we can go.

With a single nod, the two of us climb from the vehicle and pass each other silently and aggressively on our way to opposite sides. Buckled in, I back the car from the lot and drive the two miles to my grandparents’ house.

“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” I state. “Open the garage before the neighbors spot us.” I share the code, and Harry follows my directions. Without drawing too much attention, we’ve sequestered ourselves in the garage, with Harry waiting impatiently for me to get out of the car.

The moment I step from the driver’s side onto the pavement of my grandparents’ garage, Harry approaches me, his hands cupping my face as he devours my lips. I do not hesitate, opening to him as my fingers fumble for the bottom of that fucking blue sweater I’ve been jealous of all afternoon because it gets to hug his curves. As I draw the sweater up, he releases my face to raise his arms over his head, and I don’t hesitate, repeating the gesture with his white turtleneck.

As soon as his skin is free from the clothing, his mouth crashes back onto mine as his long lush fingers make short work of my white polo. He’s backed me almost to the stairs that lead to the house, and he wraps an arm around my nearly naked back just as I’m about to topple over onto them.

“Where?” His breath is scented with the mint from his gum, and I feel the waft of it across my cheek.

My brain scrambles. My grandparents’ house. Quickly I discard the master bedroom and the sofa in the living room. Grasping his hand, I haul us both to the only room that makes sense. Stopping to frantically kiss this amazing man, I reach behind me to unhook my bra, his fingers brushing over my boobs as soon as they are bare.

When I open the door to our destination, Harry pauses, his eyes widening as he takes in the golf trophies, photos of my grandparents with famous golfers on the paneled walls, and the putting green. Shaking his head, he laughs, and the crinkles at his eyes make my panties even wetter.

“I like my men like a sand trap: dirty, challenging, and unpredictable.” Although I’ve attempted to make the joke with a straight face, I fail miserably as I dissolve into giggles.

With a face palm, Harry laughs too, glancing at the putting green. “No way am I fucking on that fake turf. One of us would end up with scraped knees, and I don’t know if I would prefer it be you or me.”

“No question there,” I purr as I drop to my knees in front of him and reach for the button and zipper on his trousers. “I’ve been drooling for this shaft all afternoon.”

“Well, I am known for my lengthy club.” The smirk on his face drops away as I free his cock and give it a few strokes before sliding my lips over the end and applying light pressure. Pushing his pants and underpants down his thighs, I reach for his balls. “Oh, fuck,” he sucks in air. “I had planned to wash my balls after the game today, but you’re welcome to….ahhhhhh.” The way the sound escapes his mouth when I do as he suggests and lave his balls with my tongue has me hotter than a July game at a Miami course.

Returning to his cock, I slide his length as far as my throat will allow, practically unhinging my jaw as I take him in. Closing my lips, I use suction until he grabs my head, pulling my hair to remove me from my current activity.

When I look up at him, I can see the scar under his chin as he’s staring at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath, and I cannot resist scraping my teeth lightly to see his reaction. It’s instant, as his jaw drops and his eyes connect with mine. Just as I get to the end of his cock again, I make a humming sound, knowing he can feel the vibration on this sensitive body part.

“Birdy…” he gasps. “I need…”

Releasing him with a popping sound, I sit back on my knees and grin, rather proud of my ability to reduce this cheeky flirt to two-word sentences.

“What?” I demand.

“I need to feel your fringe. Taste it even.”

Closing my eyes, I shake my head as though I’m disappointed with his golf pun, but it honestly gives a zing to my private parts.

“Fair enough,” I comment, using my current location to remove his shoes and the rest of his clothing so that he stands before me, naked but for his socks.

“Shouldn’t that be ‘fairway’ enough?” He giggles, his shaft pointing straight at me.

I groan. “Oh, man. If I weren’t so hot for you, your bad jokes might just turn me off.”

“Good,” he smiles, and the dimple deepens until I’m confident I could fit a thousand golf balls, each with their own 381 dimples, inside it. That many dimples all in the same space would be overwhelming. “Now let’s put my wood in your golf bag, shall we?” He holds his hand down to me, and I grasp it so that he can pull me upwards, our tongues tangling like a dust devil.

Fingers fumbling with the buttons on my skort, Harry moves his lips to my neck. “Why ‘Birdy’?”

“Seriously?” I scoff. “You want to talk about my nickname now?”

His luxurious fingers shove my panties and my skort down to my ankles, ignoring my shoes completely as he encourages me to kick off the offending clothing. “Yes please.”

Nude, I plant my hands on my hips, glaring at him from where he’s squatting on the floor after removing my outfit. “My grandfather scored a birdie every time he took me out with him on the golf course when I was a baby.”

“Oh,” he pouts.

“Not as sexy as you thought it might be?”

“As a story, you really should work on it.”

“I promise I’ll spice up the story with the next single that joins our foursome,” I simper. A look crosses his face that could be construed as jealousy if one were so inclined. Which I’m not. Because he’s just an afternoon fuck.

As I start to step past him to the leather sofa, he grabs my thighs and buries his face in my crotch, sniffing deeply. Flabbergasted, I pause, my balance off.

“Widen your stance,” Harry demands, and when I follow his direction, he uses both hands to part the petals at my entrance. Just before his tongue dives in, he blows a puff of air, and I shiver at the sexiness of the move.

“Fuck, Harry,” I grab for his shoulder so I don’t sink to the floor. Between his tongue and his teeth, I nearly tip over the abyss, but when he uses both hands, inserting one finger in each of my body’s lower entrances, I come, screaming his name as I yank his hair, accidentally dislodging that damn hair clip which skitters across the wood floor. My orgasm continues as Harry rises, one finger still teasing my clit.

“You were right,” he whispers to me as I gaze at his glistening face, “three holes left. Now taken care of.” Capturing my lips, he delves inside my mouth, his tongue and finger below taking turns, setting a rhythm that would do well in one of his songs.

Fuck. I’m weak.

When my body stops shivering, I use both hands to shove him onto the sofa where he lands with both feet out and his driver in the air.

“Birth control?” he asks.

“Taken care of,” I grin. “IUD. But if you want double protection or you don’t trust me…” I gesture towards the rest of the house, trying to figure out where a condom might be hidden in my grandparents’ house.

“I trust you. No one with that nickname and those grandparents could lie about something like that.”

With a grin, I concede his point. Besides, my grandparents would flip their lids if I got pregnant without a commitment.

Slowly, as if I’m lining up a putt, I slide onto him.

“Mmmmm…that’s a hole to be respected,” Harry murmurs as I descend, and I would laugh if not for the fact that I’m gearing up for my second orgasm.

“Are you up for some stroke play?” I query as I settle completely on him, my insides stretched but happy.

“Stroke that stroke, babe.”

With the steady beat of that Billie Squier oldie in my head, I follow his instructions, lifting myself off his shaft before plunging back down as hard as I can. Just when I’m getting closer, panting as I look to the skies, Harry taps my butt cheek. “Turn around here, love.”

Settling on the sofa with my rear in the air, I am startled when Harry’s finger circles my asshole, and I wonder if I’m in for a different experience than I had originally expected. He’s too big for my back door without a lot of preparation, and it’s clear he knows it as he settles on wedging a finger there while his cock invades my vagina. Between his cock and his inserted finger, I’m so close to exploding that I slam my body backwards into his until he finally removes the finger, grabs my hips, and pounds into me.

“Drive into me, Harry!” I scream, recognizing the golf pun after it’s already left my mouth. Biting my lip, I reach in front and play with my clit just as Harry shoots his load into me, and I writhe with my second orgasm, his name on my lips as he falls onto my back.

Seconds, minutes, decades later, Harry disengages from me.

“That was pleasant,” he smiles, and I wonder if this is it. He’ll leave me here, his cum dripping from me onto the furniture in my granddad’s golf room. “We should probably get dressed and get back to the course. Otherwise, they’ll send out a search party. If we get back quickly, they’ll think we just took our time on the 18th.”

Agreeably, I laugh. “I can see it now.” Imitating my grandma, “‘But our baby girl is out there with a handsome stranger! They must be exhausted after 18 holes!’”

Together, we dissolve into giggles at the innuendo as we sort through the discarded clothing and dress ourselves, making our way back to the garage as we locate our shirts.

“You better drive us back. I’m likely to get lost in your tall bush.”

“Oh, please,” I roll my eyes. “My grass is perfectly trimmed for the game.”

“Mhm,” he smirks, “Who’s your caddy?”

We pull into the parking lot, laughing at our ridiculous puns. Removing our golf bags from the trunk, we make our way into the clubhouse where we quickly locate and join my grandparents.

“How were the last few holes?” Gramps asks.

“Pretty good,” Harry grins, glancing over at me. “I got both a Birdy and a hole in one.”

I want to laugh at his comment, but any suggestion that we did anything other than play golf would get me in trouble, so I simply smile, nod, and announce, “It was quite the round. The best I’ve had in a long time, by par.”

When everyone at the table howls with mirth, I feel Harry’s hand on my knee as my grandfather speaks up with, “Harry? I think you might be missing a number on your scorecard.” When he winks and gestures towards me, I groan, but my latest lover takes advantage of the moment, holding out his scorecard to me.

“If you wouldn’t mind…I might need another hole in one the next time I come to town.”

Reblogs are love. Thank you.

#harry styles #my writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles golf #original writing #harry styles reader insert #harry styles imagine

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gretavangroupie · 2 years ago

Text

Vigilance (Chapter 10)

Word count: 22.6k

Pairings: Sam x Reader, Jake x OC

Warnings: 18+ as always, drinking, smoking, language, fluff, angst, smut.

This story is a collaboration with my best pal @gretavanmoon. Please go show her some love!

STRANGE HORIZONS:NASHVILLE

ONE DAY BEFORE SHOW

JAKE POV

This is how it always was the day before tour. Josh barking orders at everyone, Sam waiting until the last second to do everything that should have been done weeks ago, Daniel trying to satisfy Josh’s requests, and you, sitting back watching all of it unfold from the comfort of the broken-in leather couch. The office was buzzing with crew and staff working to make sure everything was packed away correctly and not a thing was left behind. Old friends reuniting, anxious for another leg of tour to begin.

Tensions were high, as they so usually were before you left for a show. Packing up an entire band was no small task, and you weren’t sure why they always waited until the day before to do it. You were especially wound up today, still reeling from the events over the last few days. You still hadn’t made amends with Sam, but you knew you would today. You had to. You couldn’t start tour off on a bad note, right?

You watched until you noticed his tasks being steadily checked off the list one by one, and when he found himself ready to take a break, you knew you had your chance. You grabbed two beers from the cooler and walked back over to meet him on the couch. You extended the bottle out to him, and his eyes met yours as he took it. It’s a start.

You sat down next to him, twisting the lid off of the bottle as you relaxed into the seat. “Can I talk to you for a few minutes Sammy boy?” you asked, hoping that using his nickname would help soften the mood he was in.

“Looks like you already are…” he replied with a gentle smirk.

You took a pull from the lip of the bottle, letting the cold liquid calm your nerves.

“Sam… I’m…really sorry about everything I said the other day. I was completely out of line to say those things to you. I’m not trying to make excuses here, I know I fucked up, but after everything with Sophia, I just… unleashed on you. I didn’t mean it. I really am sorry. I get it if you need more time, I just… I’ve been thinking about you the past couple of days and I just want you to know I love you. I don’t think you’re a fuck up. I’m really proud of you. For everything. Really.” you rambled nervously.

He took a sip of his beer, trying to conceal the smile on his lips as he replied, “I missed you too. You had a couple low blows in there, but it's all in the name of brotherhood right? Also, I love you too.” he laughs, placing a forceful hand on your shoulder. “Phew, glad we got our yearly I love you out of the way, huh? Early this year…” he jokes.

There he is. There's your Sammy.

You held your beer up, clicking the glass bottle with his, “Until next year…” you toast. He laughs and looks over to Daniel, wrapping up some cording with velcro.

“You’re right, you know,” he adds.

“About?” you ask.

“Her. You know, if she was… with me and everything. It would have been the biggest fuck up ever. Monumental.” he said, turning to look at you. “The first time we ever slept together we talked right before…made sure this wasn’t going to turn into something else, because neither of us wanted that. I think really, we just wanted to feel close to each other again. Both of us made it very clear that there weren’t any feelings involved. It was just purely sex with someone we loved and trusted. No feelings involved. That’s all it ever was, Jake. I haven't had feelings like that for her in years. Is she gorgeous? Of course. Have I always wanted to sleep with her? Well, yeah. But I’d never steal your girl Jake... I’ve always known who her heart belongs to.” he says.

You swallow harshly, really taking in everything he’s saying. “It’s just… hard to watch, you know?” you ask.

“I know. But it’s not something I thought we should keep from you. I feel like that would have only made it worse when you did find out.” he replies. “Also… I’m really sorry about Sophia… I can’t believe she was doing that. I can’t believe we saw her. You should have seen Y/N when she spotted her in the restaurant. She was hysteric for a second.”

“I would’ve been, too. Things had been a little rocky between us the past few weeks. She was acting different…And you know what? I’m happy to be free of her, feel like I can breathe again.” you say, swigging your beer.

“I guess I’m just sorry everything played out the way it did. We just felt like you needed to know, and we wanted to tell you in person. I didn’t expect it to be such a disaster.” he says.

“It’s partially my fault, as soon as she started in on you I should have told her to leave. I am so embarrassed at the things she said to you. To Y/N. I wasn’t sure she was ever going to talk to me again. I wouldn’t blame her.” you sigh.

“You know she… she listened. Finally.” he said.

What?

“What do you mean? Listened to what?” you asked.

“Our music… did she not tell you?” he asked.

“No, tell me what?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“Up until about a week ago, she had never listened to any of our recorded music. The last thing she ever heard from us was the Black Smoke EP.” he said.

Shock coursed through your body. “What? Why?”

Had she really never heard? Every song you wrote for her, fell upon ears that wouldn’t understand. The lyrics you wrote to her, begging her to come back to you… she never heard them?

“Well, to put it simply, she couldn’t handle it. Emotionally, mentally… Think about it Jake. Would you want to listen to your ex play love songs about you?” he asked.

“No, but… not one song? Not a single song, in the past what, three, four years?” you asked, trying to wrap your head around it.

“She said she heard Safari Song in the grocery store once, but she turned around and walked out because it struck a nerve she wasn’t ready to tend to yet.” he said.

“So… she listened though… last week? Why now?” you asked.

“She said her boss assigned it to her, since we are under UMG. She listened to everything…she came over to my house after.” he stopped.

“Was she….” you started.

“Was she okay? No…She was a wreck Jake. I think you know that. Practically inconsolable for a while. She had a feeling about one in particular… but she couldn’t even ask.” he said, eyes cast down to the floor as he replayed the memory.

“So…she listened…to it...” you asked.

His eyes flicked up to yours, “Yeah. She did. About killed her I think. She wanted to know… if it was about her.” he paused, pushing his hands through his hair. “How sad is that, Jake? For her to even think for a second that it wasn’t. I told her of course it was about her. I told her they all were. I think she wanted to crawl into a hole and die right there.”

“How could she think they were about anyone else?” you whispered.

“She was pretty bad off there for a while, but I got her through it. Me and a bottle of wine, well almost two. She’s proud of us though, man. She loved it, I could tell she loved it. It spoke to her, just like we always wanted. We actually did it.” he said with a smile. “I wanted to cry, I was just so relieved she liked it...It felt– felt like it was all worth it. All those years… I missed her a lot. I know it was different for you, but you know, she was my best friend. I needed her too.” he says.

You were so busy feeling sorry for yourself back then that you never really stopped to consider that Sam lost his best friend. You were so cruel to him, to everyone really. Just a miserable person for a while. If you had known then what you know now….

“Anyways, you should talk to her about it someday. If you can. I know it's still touchy for you.” he adds.

“I will one day Sam. I’ll make it count. Thank you…for… talking to her about it. I know it probably wasn’t easy for you either.” you smiled.

“Anything for you brother,” he replied.

You both finished off your beers as you scrolled through your phones, waiting for Josh to finish up on his tirade about organization.

“Hey, she will be here in about 10 minutes, so make sure you have your shit done!” Josh called out through the office, everyone agreeing and finishing up their tasks.

“Who?” Danny asked.

“The tour coordinator… someone new this time, I think you’ll like her.” he replied with a smirk.

Fuck. She’s coming? Today? You were not prepared to see her until you absolutely had to, tomorrow.

“You good? You look like you just saw a ghost.” Sam joked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Hey I saw this the other day at a vintage shop, thought of you. Thought you might like it.” you say, opening your camera roll. You scroll through your pictures from that day, trying to find the one you took to show him. An old 60’s Sunburst Fender Acoustic. It had his name written all over it.

“Hey woah, what was that?” he says, swiping out of your photo.

“What?” you say, pulling your phone away from him.

“I swear I just…” he said, reaching over your arms, tapping on the photo of Y/N you received the other night.

“Oh my god. It is her.” he says, shocked. “How do you have that?”

You close out of it before anyone else sees, “Will you shut the hell up before one of them comes over here asking questions.”

“Sorry. But seriously… Why do you have that? Did you hack into my phone?” he asks.

“Hack into your phone? What? No? She… sent it to me. The other night. Completely unprompted.” you answer quietly, a smirk on your face.

“She sent it to you?” he asks, shock written across his face.

“Yes, Sam… for the second time. She sent it to me.” you reply.

“Well that’s interesting because she sent it to me, too.” he said matter-of-factly.

“The same one?” you asked.

“Exact same. We were…talking… it was the natural progression of the conversation but it came late…I thought she fell asleep.” he said. “Wait…what time did she send that to you?”

“Uh….” you said opening your text threads, and checking the time stamp. “10:46pm” you answered.

He dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone and opening his texts, his eyes widening as he reached the photo. “Oh my god. I think…I think she sent it to you instead of me, by accident. Mine didn’t come until 11:26.” he said. “She must have panicked when she realized and sent it to me when she figured it out. Wait, what time did you text her back?”

“11:24…”

Panic sweeps through your body as you realize what he is saying. Were they…sexting? Was that really meant for him? A chill sweeps through your body as you put the pieces together. It would explain the situation. It was completely unprompted, and her not answering your reply suddenly started to make sense.

“Well, Sam… Here I was thinking she…No, nevermind. I suppose that explains why she didn’t reply.” you sigh.

“Oh god, she didn’t reply?” he asked.

“No, but she read it. Stayed up late just in case too…Stupid.” you said, shaking your head.

“Has she spoken to you since?” he asked.

“We don’t exactly talk Sam…” you replied.

“Oh it was totally an accident. I bet she is—wow. I will have to ask her about it.” he says.

“No the fuck you will not. Let it go Sam, I am so serious.” you threatened.

“Okay, sheesh…” he says, pulling away from your grip on his arm. “It is a hot pic though isn’t it?” he jokes.

“Shut the fuck up Sam, I will end your life right here.” you say through gritted teeth.

He laughs as you hear the beep of the security system, as someone opens the front door. You both turned to look at the door, and saw her walking in, looking stunning as ever.

“Oh my god, it’s like she heard us talking about her…What is she doing here?” he asks.

Does he not know?

Her eyes meet yours only for a second before quickly looking away. Okay so she is feeling some type of nervousness about being here.

Josh rushes over to greet her, thanking her for coming in at the last minute.

“Hey!” he yells, getting everyone's attention. “I know some of us know each other, but for those of you who don’t this is Y/N. She works with Collective and is going to be our coordinator and liaison for this tour. She’s gonna be on the road with us for a bit. She’s an absolute star and I know you all will love her so make sure you welcome her with open arms and show her how we do things around here!” he says, smiling.

You watch as Sam and Danny shoot looks towards each other, then to Josh as they comprehend what he’s said.

“That being said, I will turn it over to you, I’m sure you have things to tell us to get this party started.” he smiles at her.

You couldn’t help the chuckle that came from your chest as you watched Josh so happily introduce her. She was beaming. You had to admit, even though part of you wanted to kill Josh for this arrangement, you couldn’t wait to watch her do her thing, but more importantly you couldn’t wait for her to watch you do yours.

She began to pass out paperwork to everyone, her eyes flicking to yours for a millisecond as she handed you your paper, before turning her attention back to the rest of the room.

You could see something behind her eyes. You couldn’t place it, but you knew it. You’d seen it before.

“Hi everyone! I am really looking forward to working with all of you over the next few months, but before we go over everything I just want you all to know that if you ever have any questions or concerns, or even a request you can ask me, call me, text me… whatever is easiest for you. I will help you the best way that I can.” she says, directing her attention to the group of roadies huddled by the door.

“The paper I just gave to all of you outlines the accommodations for the Nashville show starting tomorrow. Your transportation, lodging and meal information should all be on there, specific to each one of you. Again, if you have any questions you can come to me.” she says with a smile.

The chattering in the background irks you. Are they even listening to her?

She continues to talk about the schedule for tomorrow, everything laid out right there on paper. As she makes her way through each bullet point you hear the crew still talking behind you.

“Hey boys, let’s listen up.” you say shooting them a stern look.

They quiet down immediately, returning their focus back to her. Her eyes flash over to yours, in a silent thank you. You nod your head ever so slightly.

You listen intently as she talks about the venue set up, soundcheck, and the time tables that will need to be followed, your eyes never leaving her for a second. To be honest you heard every word she said but your mind was elsewhere. Back in Michigan, swimming and laughing.

Everyone thanking her snapped you from your daydream. Suddenly people were approaching her, meeting her and introducing themselves. She handled the crew and staff like she had done it a thousand times before. Maybe she had?

“You gonna talk to her, or are you just gonna stare at her?” Sam asks.

You blow a breath out, leaning back into the couch, “I don’t know… I don’t know what I’d say. Just gonna give her some time. If she wants to talk to me, she will.” you reply.

“I cannot believe she is our coordinator.” He says, shaking his head.

“You’ve met Josh right? Meddling son of a bitch.” you laugh.

“Yeah, you’re right.” he laughs. “You pack yet?”

“Fuck no. Gonna do it when we’re done here.” you answer, standing up from the couch.

“Oh my god. We get to play for her.” he says, eyes wide with realization.

“Samuel, I am begging you to not say every thought that goes through your head.” you say with a sigh.

He smirks, walking off to meet her side.

Fuck. Not only will this be your first tour in a few years, but now she will be there watching?

You hadn’t fully considered that yet. You weren’t sure you were ready to think about it. You pushed the thought from your mind as you made your way over to Josh.

“I still can’t believe you did this…” you say with a fake smile.

“Everything is going to be fine. Great even. Watch and see.” he smirks.

“We done here?” you ask.

“I think so, what time do we have to be here in the morning?” he asks.

You pull the folded paper from your back pocket, reading out the travel details, “Says the van will pick us up here at 7:00 am. So… should we just meet at my place and ride over here together? Or Sam’s?” you ask.

“Let’s do yours.” he answers.

“You gonna be on time?” you laugh.

“Of course not.” he laughs, walking away, holding his thumb and pinky up to his ear, indicating he would call you later.

You shook your head, walking over to Danny, telling him the plans, before you started to make your way out. You clapped him on the back as you stepped away, “Tell Sam, alright?”

He nods his head as you turn to make your way to the door.

You scan the room one last time, eyes catching hers for a brief moment before you slipped out into the humid evening.

—

Your suitcase sat packed by the front door ready to go, after sitting for months in the closet practically untouched. Usually you looked forward to tour, the swirling of anxious energy in your stomach just before you left. The bright vibrant energy filling your body just before you took the stage. Playing live in front of a crowd was what kept you going. Recharging your battery each night as you watched them react to the music that flowed from your fingertips. You craved it. You needed it. But tonight you didn’t have that feeling. You were nervous. Jittery. Anxious.

You sipped the remnants from the glass in your hand trying to calm those nerves. A lowball glass filled with scotch was sure to do the trick, as you sat back and watched the rain hit the windows in your study. The wet drops rolling down to collect on the sill in large puddles. You placed the now empty glass on the table, grabbing your guitar from the stand as you strummed the old worn in strings. You let your mind drift off as you played, trying to process everything that happened today.

An accident. A mistake. How foolish of you to believe that that photo was meant for you. Of course it was for Sam. She’d never sent you anything like that before... Why would she start now?

And how stupid of you to reply. You should have known it wasn’t meant for you when she didn’t reply. You stayed up all night waiting for it…There was a reason it never came. As if things weren't awkward enough after the fight with Sam… this just made it worse.

Now you had to spend the next several weeks with her, pretending that it never happened and acting like you don’t remember every detail of the picture... The image of her body burned into your brain.

Was she as embarrassed as you were? You would be working with her in extremely close quarters for weeks…You really didn’t want things to be awkward… Should you talk to her about it?

No. Just let it go... It will pass, right?

Finally feeling the alcohol settling into your bloodstream, you began to relax. You placed the guitar back on the stand, and made your way to your bedroom. It was late, and you knew you had to be up in a few hours to get ready to go. You pulled your shirt over your head, and kicked your pants to the floor, before crawling into the comfort of your own bed for the last time for the next few weeks. You never did sleep so well in a bed that wasn’t your own.

You set your alarm, and placed your phone on the nightstand, flicking the switch on your lamp, leaving the room completely dark. You let a sigh leave your chest as you relaxed into your pillows, drifting off to sleep quickly with the help of the scotch and the patter of rain on the windows.

—

NIGHT ONE

HER POV

You were already awake when your alarm went off promptly at 6:00 am, your nerves keeping you only half-asleep all night. The first day of tour. You were excited, but the anxiousness was creeping into your bones and making itself at home. You’d gone over the itinerary a hundred times before bed, and a hundred more times while you tried to fall asleep. Meeting times, rider copies, map locations, hotel confirmations…your brain felt fried already, and you hadn’t even left yet. You were thankful Allison had given you everything you needed to have accomplished on a nice organized checklist, making your life a bit easier.

You drug yourself from your bed and into your bathroom to take a quick shower. You’d already picked out your outfit for the day, some dark wash jeans and a simple top. Cute but professional. You’d be meeting everyone at the office to load the van in exactly one hour.

While you rushed around your home chugging coffee and gathering essentials, you thought about Jake, and how his eyes had met yours for the briefest of moments yesterday. You were still so embarrassed and ashamed, but you had to keep on a happy face for the sake of your job. This was no time to let your emotions show through. You had a lot to accomplish, and proving yourself was at the top of your list.

—

You arrived at the office with fifteen minutes to spare, giving you ample time to run over everything again. You grabbed all your things from your trunk, and packed them into the crew van before you checked in with the driver. You brought out your iPad checklist and made yourself a few notes and reminders. Cars began to fill up the lot and roadies and crew members began to unload their things. No one had presented you with questions yet, thank goodness. Deep breaths, all is well so far. You checked the time, 6:55. Perfect.

After a quick headcount of everyone riding in the van, you finally began to feel a bit more at ease. Thankfully, Allison had given you the tip to always lock in early hotel check-ins. ‘They’re always late for everything...leave yourselves time to spare.’ Fortunately, you’d known that fact since you were kids.

You finally saw Jake’s car pulling into the lot a whopping fifteen minutes late. All four of them piling out of the vehicle to unload their bags. 7:15... Not too shabby. They walked over to the vans with sleep still in their eyes, except Josh, of course. He was always a morning person. He took you in an immediate embrace, placing his positive and comforting energy directly onto your skin. How did he always know exactly when to do that?

“First day, big day! You ready?” He asked in your ear, not letting you go until you answered. He smelled like patchouli with a hint of hibiscus and vanilla. You took a second to breathe, letting his familiar scent calm your nerves.

“I think so, Joshy. I hope.” He released you after a big squeeze, his long curls flowing in the early morning breeze. He gave you a reassuring smile. “Killing it already, hot stuff.”

You did notice Jake seemed a bit more chipper than he usually was at this hour. He didn’t have his normal dark circles and sullen face…instead he looked bright-eyed and anxious. The rest of the guys made their way over to you. Sam brought his hand to his brow, playfully saluting.

“Samuel Francis Kiszka, bass and keys, reporting for duty. My name should be first on the list in the VIP section. I’m actually in the band.” He glanced and pointed to your iPad, typing his fingers erratically causing your screen to go wild.

“Stop it Sam, geez!” You laughed. “Get in the van.”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a wink.

“Morning sunshine, ready to kick ass today?” Danny said through a warm smile, showing all his teeth.

“Let’s hope so,” you returned his sweet smile.

“You got it, no question.” He reassured you.

Lastly came Jake. He brought his eyes to meet yours, and you felt every nerve ending explode with embarrassment all over again. He gave you a curt half-smile and nodded his head, climbing into the van without a word. His cheeks had pinkened a little, and you were sure yours had done the same. Awkward. So awkward.

After everyone was loaded up and accounted for, you made sure no one had any questions, and you climbed into the front seat of the crew van. You felt an overwhelming sense of nervousness and relief at the same time. You’d attack this day step by step. These guys were all professionals and had done this song and dance a million times. It was their world, and you were just orchestrating it.

——

Checking into the hotel proved to be a simpler task than you anticipated, getting everyone their key cards and on their way to their rooms going very smoothly. You knew that you had to get them to the venue for sound check as quickly as possible so once you figured they had enough time to settle, you sent a group text asking them to meet you in the lobby. It was a very short ride to the venue, and you were excited to be behind the scenes and have access to everything that happened backstage.

You watched as everything was unloaded from the trucks and brought inside the amphitheater. It was amazing to watch the crew work like a well-oiled machine quickly putting up the stage and equipment in record speed. Though this was the first show back in a while, they all worked well as a team setting up the new stage equipment just like the guys envisioned.

You were rushing around like a crazy person, answering phone calls, replying to tons of texts, checking to make sure the riders were fulfilled, and trying to keep Allison updated with everything. So far, so good. Eight hours until openers.

“Guys, the stage is set. You wanna come see?” You asked the four of them as they gathered around a makeshift coffee table full of lunch items. Their eyes lit up, ready to see the stage they’d dreamt of for months finally brought to life.

You led them around the small corridors of the beautiful outdoor venue, and into the pit area. They erupted in astounded cheers seeing it all put together. You grabbed your walkie-talkie and radioed to the light booth. “Randy, can we hit the lights?” You asked. A few seconds later, a voice came over the radio. “Sure thing.” The main spot lights came on and illuminated the stage in a beautiful and clean white light, showing off the lighted platforms and spires that lined the backdrop. They fell into ‘ooo’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ in unison as they took it all in.

“Holy shit, it’s perfect!” Josh proclaimed.

“Yeah guys, yes!” Sam yelled to the crew. They all clapped and cheered, and ran onto the stage to begin checking their sound. Relief. You knew it would be even more perfect once it got dark outside.

You took a second to run backstage and collect yourself, use the restroom, and grab something to eat as you knew the rest of the day was going to be even more chaotic. You checked in with craft services to see that everything was refilled for the crew, now that they were done with their part. You relaxed on a couch for a free second, ignoring your buzzing phone and nagging notifications. You could hear the low droning sound of their instruments coming together, as they jumped into a song you didn’t quite recognize off the bat. It still sounded beautiful and haunting even from this far away. You closed your eyes and took in the moment, feeling pride overtake your mind as you listened to your best friends fulfill their dream. After a few grounding moments, you decided to check your phone and emails again.

An hour or so passed, and you noticed the music had stopped. You stood up to stretch and checked the time, not realizing how long you’d been lost in your phone. You began to meander around the backstage area again, when you were caught by a pair of familiar hands pulling you behind a trailer, out of sight.

“Samuel, what are you doing!” You whispered loudly.

“Nothing, just wanted to say hello properly. I haven’t gotten to tell you how good you look taking care of all of us like this.” He pinned your back to the trailer, and glanced around, checking that the coast was clear. Then he brought his lips to your neck, lightly kissing and nudging you.

“I love watching you in your element...it’s very attractive.” he whispered in your ear between pecks.

“Sam…be careful...there’s people everyw-” he cut you off, placing his lips on yours.

“Shhh...there’s no one around. Trust me. Do you trust me?” He glanced around again.

You nodded, reluctantly. You felt very out of place, letting him do this in such a manner in broad daylight, but god, his lips on your neck and his hands pinning you down was driving you wild. He had a knack for melting you into a puddle, that was for sure.

He immediately licked into your mouth, hot and sweet with just the tiniest taste of tequila on his lips. He brought his leg up to spread your knees apart, positioning himself so your core rested on his upper thigh. He pressed his body into you, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you, even from the slightest contact. You kissed him back hard, just now realizing how starved you’ve been for him without even noticing it. Your mind had been elsewhere lately.

“That photo you sent the other night...I can’t get it off my mind. You looked so sexy...God I wanted you so bad...” he trailed off, pressing harder against you. “You want me to send you something?”

You nodded again. “Mhmm...yes please.” you said into his mouth, biting his lip.

“I’ll see what I can come up with...” he said, pulling away. He began to back off, adjusting himself in his pants. He glanced around again, making sure the coast was still clear. “Silence my notifications, and change my name in your phone.” He said with a wink, and he was gone.

What? Change his name? Why? Did he know about the photo accident?

—

You headed back around to the main gathering area backstage after collecting yourself for a few minutes. Hot and bothered was an understatement.

“Y/N! Hey, I’d like you to meet someone.” Josh said as you entered the trailer. “This is Summer. She’s going to be our photographer!”

“Oh my god, hey! It’s so nice to meet you finally! I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet before, things have been chaotic.” You reached out to shake her hand. Summer was gorgeous. Tan, slender, and blonde with cute features and the prettiest blue eyes that hid behind thin wire glasses. She had a bright and friendly smile as she returned your handshake.

“Hey! So nice to meet you! I’m so excited to be here.” she said.

“I’ll leave you two to chat.” Josh said, taking off in the other direction.

“Let me show you around?” You asked, walking towards the stage.

“Yes, let’s go!” She grabbed her camera bag and you were off. You showed her around the venue and made sure she had her all access media and crew pass.

“The guys will want you to be around basically all the time, backstage and all. They’re really easy to get along with, which I’m sure you noticed meeting Josh.” You said.

“Yes, actually! He introduced me to the band. Everyone seems really nice! This is my third time going on a tour with a band, so I’m really starting to get my footing I think. I’m really excited to work with you guys!” She admitted.

“Well, they picked you for a reason. I saw some of your work, it’s fantastic. You’ll do just fine.” You reassured her with a smile, which she returned. You walked her around the grounds a bit more, showing her the areas you’d be occupying most and introducing her to people here and there. By the time you made it back, she had told you her life story in its entirety and you were already beginning to tune out the sound of her voice. She was sweet, but…

“So, this might sound forward but, are all of them…single?” She asked without an ounce of shyness in her voice. It took you by surprise.

“Umm, well… Sort of. Danny has a girlfriend but, the rest, yeah. Basically. I try not to keep up with their personal lives too much.”

Lie.

“Cool okay. I just didn’t want to, you know… Be weird about anything. Spending all this time together and all.” She replied, talking with her hands.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, no I get that. For sure.”

“But, the quieter one with sunglasses, he plays guitar I think?” She rambled.

“Jake.” You said stoically.

“Yeah, Jake. He is fine. Made my heart skip a beat when he shook my hand. You know what I mean? I’ve always liked the brooding ones. The type you’d climb like a tre-”

“Summer. I get it... But remember you’re here to take photos and that’s it. Okay?” You felt yourself get an attitude at her lack of professionalism this early in the game. It had only been half an hour and you were already starting to be irked by her presence.

“Jake is very professional and likes to keep himself focused. He doesn’t allow himself much time for things like that.” you add, hoping she would take the hint.

Saved by the bell, your walkie talkie beeped with a request for you to go to the stage. “I’ve gotta go, good luck tonight!” You waved to Summer and left before she could get another nerve-grinding word out.

You approached the stage and were motioned back to the sound booth technician.

“Hey! We need our copies of the setlists! Almost forgot.” The woman laughed.

“Yes! I have them on my hard drive. I will bring them right to you.” You replied, rushing off to backstage, mad at yourself for forgetting to do that before you left the office. Luckily you had a portable printer installed in the crew trailer.

You printed off ten copies of the list, and read through it on your way back to the sound booth.

Wow, it was so strange seeing the names of all these songs that you’d just now become familiar with, the songs that were basically their children. You knew they were playing a few of these live for the first time tonight, and a whole new wave of nerves hit you like a freight train. You were so excited for them. So excited for their fans.

A few more hours passed, and you’d decided to join the guys for a little chat before things got hectic. They were all hanging around outside, warming up on acoustics and pre-gaming with seltzers and shots. They were all beaming with nerves, Josh and Sam hopping around expelling their pent-up agitation while Danny drummed on anything he could find. Jake sat comfortably in a lounge chair, feet up, strumming a quiet tune and watching his brothers in their natural states. He was so…attractive.

“Josh, why are you dressed already? You’re going to spill something on your suit!” You said, surprised. His outfit for tonight was a white jumpsuit with blue and green applique feathers, and it fit him like a glove. Tiny rhinestones caught the light as he jumped around, causing him to sparkle in the afternoon sun.

“Oh, love. I always do this. Sorry, but I get ready way too early. It’s just a…thing I do.” He threw his hands up, unable to elaborate any more. “But I make it a point to only drink clear liquids! I promise.”

You nodded nervously, wanting to cover him up with a jacket, a bib…something.

You peeked around to the front of the venue, seeing that hoards of people had started to gather at the gates. You checked your phone.

Allison 5:55pm: Almost time to get them dressed! Hope all is going well!

You 5:59pm: All is great! Thanks!

You took another few minutes, shooting texts to the other coordinators and radioing to check in with security. You couldn’t believe you’d gotten this far in the day without any major hiccups, and you were thankful. Maybe you could do this… You were doing this.

You glanced toward Jake, who was sitting naturally still strumming along and sipping something from a paper cup. You covertly watched as Summer made her way over to sit beside him, giving him all of her attention as she snapped a few photos, while likely telling him a story about something he cared nothing about. Just from the short time you spent with her, you knew she was going to be a great photographer, but inevitably get on everyone’s nerves.

Get away from him, he doesn’t want to talk to you. He’s trying to get in his zone.

But to your surprise, you watched as he tilted his head back and laughed a hearty laugh, scrunching his nose up and giggling at whatever she was saying. She laughed too, leaning into him and quickly putting her hand to his thigh.

Oh really?

You scoffed under your breath and crossed your arms. She then pointed to his guitar, and began to ask him questions. It looked like he was explaining the guitar parts to her, while she watched him intently, all the while moving closer and closer to him, touching him any chance she got.

Doesn’t she have photos to take or something?

Suddenly, Sam was in front of your face, “Hey. You gonna nip that in the bud, or should I?” he asked motioning back to Summer and Jake with a head tilt. It shook you from the raging fire of jealousy growing in your chest.

You stood up quickly, clapping your hands together, “Alright guys, time to get dressed!” You announced, and they all began to excitedly make their way toward the trailer. You saw Summer look back toward you as Jake exited her bubble.

“You can sit this part out, Summer.” You said.

“And you get to watch them get changed? Lucky girl…” she said with a smirk.

You decided to not respond to that, and climbed the steps to the front door, closing it hard behind you.

—

After a few minutes, they were all dressed and ready to go...7:45 on the dot. Their openers had already begun their sets, filling the arena with sound. You stood in the trailer, and watched their stylist stand back and admire the art of the designer. Their outfits truly were a sight, all custom made to fit their visions.

The crew exited the trailer, leaving just you and the guys. Sam immediately felt comfortable enough to bring you in for a giant hug. “Errghhhh you did so great today! How are you feeling? Ready for the grand finale?”

You hugged him back, finally feeling alone enough with them to be your true self, “Yes, my job’s almost over. It’s your turn now.” You responded with a giggle.

Just then, Danny and Josh came and joined the hug, sticking you in the middle as they piled around one another. You glanced over and saw Jake standing off to the side, obviously feeling awkward about joining. You bravely raised your finger to him, motioning for him to join in. He wrapped his arms around his brothers as they all rested their heads on one another, taking a second to relish in the moment.

“My brothers, are we ready to rock and roll?” Josh asked.

“Never been more ready…” Danny agreed. They all spoke in little sentences of excitement and reassurance, patting each other on the backs and shaking off nerves. Never once letting their heads separate from touching in their circle, with you still directly in the middle. You stood awkwardly, but happy to be included in their embrace.

“Six brand new songs tonight, fellas. Do we have it?” Josh asked.

“Yeah we have it, do you have it?” Jake responded. You giggled.

“Yeah I fuckin’ have it as long as you keep me where I need to be.” Josh relayed.

“As long as these two assholes keep me where I need to be…” Jake went on.

“Don’t we always? Daniel and I are perfect...” Sam spat.

“Sounds like a plan, then. Let’s go do it.” Josh said.

Suddenly they hugged one another tighter, smashing their heads into yours and bringing your face impossibly close to Jake’s. You felt heat immediately rush to your face as his eyes flitted to yours, and locked there. He offered you the tiniest of smiles before he spoke.

“Love you guys?” He asked.

“Love you guys.” They all responded in unison. Then they all separated, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, drowning in emotional surprise.

“What was that? What was I just part of? Do you do that before every show?” You asked.

“Only since 2012, love.” Sam said, shooting you another wink as he descended the stairs, his baby blue suit hugging every curve. You felt a swell of admiration creep into your chest. You had gotten to be a part of their pre-show ritual.

You waited by the door for the guys to file out one by one, Jake stopping beside you at the very end. You noticed the collar of his beautifully embroidered navy blue suit was flipped up, and you instinctively reached to fix it. Your fingers accidentally brushing his neck in the process, sending an immediate and visible chill through him. You swallowed hard as you pulled your hand away from his collar.

“How do I look?” He asked in a low and gravelly voice, shyly bringing his eyes from the floor to you.

Before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “Still just as gorgeous as ever.”

His face softened and a smirk played at his lips, just as he turned to catch up with the rest of the guys.

—

The time had almost come for the guys to take the stage, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just as nervous as they most likely were. Brand new tour, brand new songs, brand new era…

You knew they would absolutely kill it no matter what, but you were sure the anxiety was still high. The sound of the crowd was almost deafening even this far away, and at an outdoor venue at that. You never imagined there would be this many people.

Right before they were to head toward backstage, small plastic shot glasses were passed around to the surrounding crew, while Josh had everyone gather for a toast. You took the cup of what smelled like vodka, and raised it into the air. A familiar presence was suddenly by your side, meeting your extended arm with his own. Jake.

“Thank you all for being here, and making this happen tonight! To Strange Horizons!” Josh yelled above the lull of the screaming crowd. He held his tiny glass up, and everyone joined in with clanking theirs together before shooting the clear liquor. You turned a little toward Jake, as he held his cup up to yours.

“Cheers, love.” He said, barely tipping his cup to tap yours, raising his eyebrows with the smallest grin.

“Cheers…” was all you could manage through the thick sound of your heart beating in your ears. Love?

He tilted it back and swallowed its contents, and he was gone without another word. You stood there for a second collecting yourself.

“That shot’s not gonna take itself, babe!” Sam yelled, guiding your hand to bring it to your lips. You let the chilled liquid coat your insides, hoping that it would calm the storm that was brewing inside you. You heard Josh’s voice on the special intro monologue begin, and the crowd erupted in an explosion of screams.

“There you go...There she is!” Sam shouted as you finished downing the shot.

He brought his lips close to your ear, “Checked your phone lately?” He pulled away with a wink and a wide smile, and spoke loudly again. “You ready?!” And then he, too, was gone.

You felt your radio vibrate with sound, and you brought it close to your ear. “Two minutes, two minutes to stage.” your heart rate immediately picking up.

You looked around to make sure everyone was accounted for, and then rushed everyone toward the stage, security and other coordinators in tow. You could feel the energy radiating off of them. They were electric.

In seconds you found yourself side stage with the guys as they awaited their cue to walk. They took a second to peek at the ginormous crowd, a sea of raised hands and cell phones ready and waiting to capture the first seconds of their beloved band taking the stage again.

No one really spoke, not like you could hear anything over the audience anyway. Everyone exchanged looks and shoulder grabs, basking in their excitement together. You looked to Jake, who was pulling his guitar strap over his head, and offered him a genuine smile, silently wishing him ‘good luck’ as you could. He nodded and smiled back, still able to read your expressions even after all these years.

Suddenly the lights went out, and there was a beat of silence, their cue to storm the stage. You watched as they left your side and found their rightful spots with their instruments. Plugging in, and taking a deep breath.

As the lights faded up, Sam’s keys began the first song. Filling the arena with beautiful and ethereal sounds in a way that only he could. The crowd exploded into screams and cheers as they recognized the song. You watched on as thousands of people sang the lyrics back to the band, not missing a beat.

You found yourself having a hard time deciding whether to watch the show or watch the crowd. They held hands, they cried, they swayed as they sang...now you understood why this was so addicting for them. The fans gave so much energy, song after song, an unrelenting celebration with each tempo switch.

Your eyes carried themselves to Jake as you finally allowed yourself to watch him in his element. You’d been actively ignoring him the whole show so far, not letting yourself see him finally play, for real. You thought back, you hadn’t seen him play since that fateful night at the bar. Years ago. Even then he was a force to be reckoned with, but now, god, he held absolutely nothing back.

You watched as he pranced around, completely taken with the music he was creating, and even more taken with the effect it had on the audience…absolute madness. You could tell he fed off of it. Lived for it. The way his body moved was so sensual, tilting his head back and rolling his entire body with the sound. His facial expressions matched, too. You felt like falling into a hole when you realized you’d seen him make those faces before, years ago, locked up in his room for two days with nothing better to do than each other.

You had to force yourself to rip your eyes off of him. You noticed you’d been looking at only him for the past ten minutes or so. He was just so…mesmerizing to watch. The passion he felt while playing and interacting with the crowd and the rest of the band was a show in itself. And he sounded perfect.

Then you caught a glimpse of his torso…Holy shit…The lights from the stage were bouncing off the sweat dripping down his chest and stomach. The proof of his exertion in the heat of the summer night. He was breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down as the sweat dripped in a steady stream from his throat down to the button of his pants. Watching as he would occasionally wipe it between chords. That was a visual you did not need right now.

You turned around to collect yourself, and grab a drink of water. You checked your phone quickly; you’d completely forgotten Sam had asked you if you had earlier. You’d done what he said to do – silenced his notifications, and changed his contact name. You couldn’t think of a name off the top of your head, so instead you chose to just use ‘Keys’. You had a photo notification from him from a little over an hour ago. You stepped behind some equipment, and opened the attachment.

There it sat. A photo of him in a partially fogged-up mirror, in just a towel hanging low around his hips. He had wiped the fog from the mirror just enough that you could see him. His face, dark with lust. He was holding the towel together right at the top of his bulge, only the light smattering of dark hair visible, leaving almost everything to the imagination.

He was still dripping from his shower, the water glistening on his tanned skin. His wet hair falling at his shoulders with tiny droplets dripping from the ends, down onto his chest. He looked positively edible. His eyes lured you in, dark and focused, his jaw clenched tight. He wanted you. That much was clear.

You locked your phone screen and returned your focus to the show, trying to forget the fact that both of them had managed to get you hot within the past two minutes.

What the hell are they doing to you?

You watched them intently, the music beginning to slow and the lights growing dim. The spotlight shone on Sam, playing a familiar tune on his piano. Is this greensleeves? Your brow furrowed as you watched him effortlessly play the melody you knew so well. As that came to a close, you watched him fully light and take the first hit from a cigarette, right there on stage. Blowing the smoke from his mouth and watching it dissipate into the light. Oh, he’s surely showing off tonight.

The music swelled again, and the guitar came in. A haunting sound from Jake that nearly made you stop breathing. This must be one of their new songs. The intro lasted a good bit before they jumped into the full song. You checked your notes. You’d forgotten you kept one of the copies of the setlist. Age of Machine…you remembered listening to this the other night. You watched the crowd go crazy over it, especially as Jake began to go into a solo. Completely captured by his playing again, you felt your head swirling as you watched. It was like he slipped into another dimension and dragged you there with him. But in the moment there was no place you’d rather be.

The song began to trail into something else, another familiar sound. Was this...? You reached deep into the depths of your memory, trying to remember the garage days. You knew this… this was the song they played at the Groovebox thing… What was the name of it…?

Then it hit you. You made quick eye contact with Sam, “Is this Thunderstomp?!” You mouthed to him.

He smiled a giant smile, and slowly nodded ‘yes’ as he did so. Wow. You hadn’t heard this in so many years, and they decided to add a snippet in for fun. You suddenly felt all the emotions from the night so far building up. The memories coming back full force of watching them practice for hours in the garage...the day Jake asked Sam to come and play the bass for him. Jake had gotten his first real electric guitar, and fell in love with it. He never set it down. Sam always picking on him for how attached he was.

You remembered as a kid, your mom and dad would take you over to the Kiszka house while the parents played cards into the early morning hours. Sam would practice the piano for hours on end while you sat and listened, doing homework and watching movies on mute.

You remembered Sam getting his very own bass guitar for Christmas one year, being surprised and excited, but intimidated nonetheless.

“Dad this is awesome, but I don’t know how to play it.” He’d said.

“Don’t worry. You’ll pick it up one day.” Kelly winked.

You remembered the day Jake busted into the living room, carrying Sam’s untouched bass.

“Hey, come on. We need you to play this.” He said, placing the bass on Sam’s lap.

“Dude I don’t know how. I wouldn’t even know where to start. Go away.” Sam replied.

Jake kneeled down next to him, his face softening to match his voice, “Please, Sambo? Try for me. I’ll show you a few chords. I’ll…I’ll teach you.” Jake begged.

Sam met your eyes, looking for your opinion. All you did was shrug, “Let him teach you. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You kick ass on the keys, how do you know you won’t kick ass on this too?” Jake pleaded, sending him a warm smile.

You remembered the visual of Sam reluctantly getting up from the couch and dragging himself to the garage, Jake so excited just to have him there. That he was willing to try, just for him.

Two weeks later, he was a natural. He played it like he’d known how for years. His fingers glided across the strings effortlessly and from then on, you couldn’t drag him away from the garage.

The memory flashed away as you now watched them on the stage together, sounding as professional as ever, with thousands of fans screaming for them. They had fun together, dancing around and communicating with their eyes. This was their true passion.

Pride welled up in your chest as you began to cry tears of happiness for them, being so thankful you were there for the beginning of it all, and so sorry you had missed out on the middle.

—

The show ended on a high note, the encore rounding off the first night perfectly. When the guys flooded off stage, they were full of excitement and exhaustion, searching for drinks and towels, rushing backstage as quickly as possible. Ok, back to work.

You followed them out, watching as they celebrated together, suppressing your tears and emotions as best you could. You were so proud.

Everyone was loaded up in the vans, ready to go back to the hotel and clean up from the night. You checked your phone and email one last time, ticking off check marks on your list of post-show tasks. A perfect night, no mishaps whatsoever. You felt so lucky, and truly felt like you had a handle on this job so far. You shot Allison a text letting her know how everything went, and that you were headed back to the hotel for the night.

You sneakily turned your body so your phone was concealed, and opened the photo from Sam again. You felt a wave of nervous excitement flood your system, and you saved the photo to your private album, deleting the one from the text thread. You decided to shoot him a quick text.

You 11:47 pm: Thank you for that. More where it came from?

Keys 11:48 pm: You’re very welcome. Absolutely, lots more ;) Come shower with me?

You pondered for a second, not seeing any harm in it.

You 11:49 pm: I’ll be there.

The vans pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, and everyone began to unload. Everybody was tired, but still a bit keyed up from the excitement of the night. You checked in with the crew, letting everyone know of the meeting time tomorrow morning. With that, you turned your iPad off, and silenced your phone.

You entered the hotel lobby, rustling around in your backpack for your key card and making your way to the elevator.

“Hey!” A familiar voice caught you off guard from down the hall. It was Jake walking toward you. Your heart nearly stopped beating. “You ok? I saw you wiping your eyes getting into the van.”

Oh shit, he’d seen the after effects of your emotional breakdown.

“Hey! Yeah, I’m fine. Just got a little…in my feelings watching you guys.” you trailed off, already having said too much.

“Oh, is that…bad?” He asked, completely misunderstanding your reason for tears.

You gave him a halfhearted smile as you took a deep breath. “Exactly the opposite, actually.” You offered, not wanting to go into any detail at the moment.

“Okay, well…I was gonna get changed and go down to the hotel bar. Do you… wanna join?” He asked motioning behind him. His eyes were full of hope.

Yes. Yes I’ll do whatever you ask of me. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth. Take me wherever you want and do whatever you want with me.

“Ah, that’s okay. You go ahead. Rain check, though?” You answered, going against every ounce of judgment in your brain.

His face fell, defeated. “Yeah, rain check.” He grinned a little, and turned back the way he was heading. You felt like kicking yourself.

“Oh, Jake?” He turned back around, now walking backwards away from you, hands in his pockets. “You guys sounded really great tonight. It was perfect.” You offered, wanting to give him more, go into every little detail about his playing, ask him a million questions, drone on for hours about how much you loved everything about the show…About him.

“Thanks for keeping us in line, darlin’.” And with that, he turned the corner, and was gone. That was the second time he’d used a pet name tonight. First love, now darlin? He made you weak in the knees.

You boarded the elevator with a heavy fog clouding your mind. You replayed the encounter over and over. You felt terrible for turning his invitation down, but you already made plans to go to Sam’s room. You pressed the button for your floor, and suddenly felt overwhelmingly confused.

Should you knock on Jake’s door by accident?

JAKE POV

You should have known she wouldn’t agree to it. Of course she didn’t want to get a drink with you. You purposefully walked to the opposite end of the building to board a different elevator than she had, suddenly feeling stupid for asking her in the first place.

‘Let her come to you’, Josh’s words ringing through your head over and over as the elevator doors opened. You stepped inside, pulling your phone from your pocket just as Sam stepped in beside you.

“You good? You look like someone punched you in the gut.” he jokes.

You smirk, “Mmm, kind of feels that way.” you whisper to yourself.

“Huh?” he questions, not hearing your words.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Just tired. Been a minute since I played like that is all. Hand hurts.” you answer.

“Okay...Well, what floor are you?” he asks.

“Eleven.” you answer stoically.

“Oh, me too!” he says, far too joyfully for your taste.

The elevator dings as you arrive at the eleventh floor, both of you stepping out into the carpeted hallway. You pull your keycard from your wallet as you round the corner.

Sam is not too far behind you, but stopping as he reaches the room next to yours, tapping his key to the lock.

“Night!” he says, nodding his head towards you.

“Later.” you reply, opening your door, and stepping inside.

Kicking off your boots you hobble further into the room, turning on a lamp and depositing your things on the dresser in one fell swoop.

You make your way into the bathroom, turning the shower on, letting the water get hot as you remove your clothes. The shower is quick, rinsing away the remnants of sweat and letting the scalding water relax your tired muscles. You massage the sting in your hand as you close it into a fist. Will this goddamn thing ever heal?

As the bathroom fills with steam you let your mind wander. It was so good to be back on the stage finally playing the songs as they were intended to be heard. The crowd seemed to love it, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. Did she actually like it? Her smile as you walked off the stage should have been enough of an indication, but the smile was laced with something else. Her eyes were sad. You could tell she had been crying. You were feeling really confident mid set, nailing every note with ease, just like you practiced time and time again.

But the sadness of her demeanor as the show ended had you wondering if maybe you hadn’t done as well as you thought. Maybe she was expecting more? If you were good she would have told you, right? You’d do better tomorrow. You’d show her. All you really want is for her to be proud of you.

You turned the knob on the shower, letting the water trickle from the shower head until it came to a stop. You grabbed the towel from the rack and wrapped yourself in the scratchy white fabric. Walking back into the room, you unzipped your suitcase pulling out your sweats and a t-shirt before closing it back up.

You ran your fingers through your wet hair as you spotted the mini bar near the window. Squatting down in front of the offerings you found 4 mini bottles of Jack Daniel’s. Perfect.

Pulling them from the slot, you stood up and grabbed one of the glasses covered with a paper shield, and twisted the lid on the first bottle of Jack. Hesitating, your eyes flashed to the ice bucket. Yeah, I think so.

Ice bucket in hand you made your way to the door, grabbing your room key and twisting the lock. As you open the door to step out, you glance down the hallway in search of the vending machines, but what you see is not the sight you were looking for.

You see Y/N standing in front of Sam’s door, about to walk in. Your eyes meet quickly, as your grip on the ice bucket tightens. This is why she turned you down. For Sam.

Her eyes break from yours, glancing at the ice bucket in your hand and tossing you a sorrowful smile, just as she holds the card to the lock. Her eyes flash back up to yours, and you can still see that same look in them that she had earlier. She is sad. She looks away and steps inside, and as the door shuts behind you, you let out the breath that was caught in your chest at first sight of her.

When will it be my door she walks through? Will it ever be?

—

HER POV

You landed on your floor, and walked to your room to change out of your more professional outfit and into something a little more comfortable. It was a hot day, and changing out of the clothes you’d spent the day sweating in felt nice. You actually were very excited to shower the day off with Sam, and actually enjoy the shower itself.

You grabbed a pair of jeans and tshirt for the morning walk of shame, and changed into a loose tank top and shorts for tonight. You headed back to the elevator, and up to Sam’s room. On the ride up, you texted him to let him know you were coming.

You 12:09pm: Almost there!

Keys 12:10pm: Shower’s hot.

You 12:10pm: Good. So am I…

Keys 12:11pm: Hurry up

The elevator doors opened, and you took off down the hallway toward his room, only to be met with Jake, again, walking back down the hall with an ice bucket in hand. You felt like your skull was full of lightning bolts, thoughts bouncing around in your head of what lie you could tell him to get out of this one.

When his eyes met yours, his posture dropped. You didn’t need to lie. He knew exactly where you were going. Exactly why you turned down drinks. Neither of you said a word, just held eye contact as you walked slowly toward each other and approached your respective doors. You raised the key card to the handle, and it unlocked. You twisted the knob, and gave Jake one last longing look before slipping into Sam’s room.

You dropped your things on the couch, and took a deep and cleansing breath. Jake just had to be in the hallway at that exact moment, didn’t he? Why did you keep lining up like this? You decided to shake the thought free, and suppress the vision of the look on his face when he realized where you were going.

You heard the shower running in the bathroom, so you decided to give Sam a little show. You stripped down to nothing, and quietly opened the bathroom door. The shower glass was fogged up, but you could see the silhouette of his body inside. You pulled the handle on the thin glass of the door, and stepped inside. He wiped his face clean of the residual soap he was washing with, and opened his eyes to meet yours.

“Hey.” You said with a smile.

“Hey yourself.” He immediately pulled you into him, skin to skin, standing under the hot streams of the shower. “You killed it today, you know. You’re really a natural.” He began to lay his mouth on your neck.

“Mmm, I dunno Sam. Everyone pretty much already knows exactly what to do and how to do it. I don’t do much.” You replied, tilting your head back to give him more access.

“I guess…but you keep us on time and in touch. There’s got to be so much you do behind the scenes that no one ever notices.” He went on, turning you around and pulling his fingers through your hair to wet it.

“I suppose so, but enough about me. Let’s talk about how you guys made me cry in front of all my new coworkers tonight.” You joked, but not really.

“Ahh, I thought I saw you get a little emotional over there. Was it the Thunderstomp throwback?” he laughed, continuing to massage your scalp.

“That’s definitely made it worse… I was already just...in awe of you guys. How you sounded. How you performed...it’s unreal Sam. I’m being serious.”

“Well thanks, babe. I’m sorry you cried. I think happy tears are good for you, though.” He replied. You didn’t have the guts to tell them that they weren’t all happy tears.

You finished up washing yourselves, and were left still standing in the shower, taking each other in. You brought your hands up to hold Sam’s face, and placed a genuine kiss to his lips. He smiled, and wrapped his arms around you again. He kissed you back, a bit harder this time. You began fighting each other for dominance through the kiss as it became more heated, and your hands began to search each other’s bodies.

You felt yourself getting insanely turned on as Sam quickly backed you against the wall of the shower, and lifted one of your legs to rest over his hip. He tightened his jaw as he felt himself pressed against you, growing harder with each passing second. “God I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of how you feel...” he said through his clenched teeth. He began to grind against your now spread lips, and the friction was enough to drive you insane. He held you in place while he teased you with his tip, moving it from your clit to your entrance and back again, never fully pressing in.

“Please Sam, I need you.” You pleaded, begging him to fill you.

“Tell me what you need, baby. Talk to me.” He growled.

“Fuck, I need you inside me. Can you?” You looked up at him, giving him the eyes you knew he couldn’t refuse.

“Tell me why I should fuck you, hm? Give me a good reason...” he continued grinding hard against your clit, causing you to begin to see stars.

“Because you did so good tonight...played so perfect…” you whimpered.

He reached and grabbed your tit with his free hand, giving it a rewarding squeeze.

“Yeah? You enjoyed yourself tonight? Liked watching me up there?” He twisted your nipple, eliciting a cry from your throat.

“Yeah Sammy, I did like watching you...playing for all those people. So hot. All those screaming fans wishing they could have you…let you take them back to your room and have your way with them…” you spoke between breaths.

Suddenly he separated from you and released your leg, spinning you around to lean your arms down on the seat in the shower. You bent in half, and looked back toward him. He laid a loud smack across your right ass cheek, spurring you on.

“Keep going...” he ordered.

“But you weren’t going to bring them back to your room, because you knew I would come. And I would fuck you just how you like…right Sammy?” You said, backing yourself against him, teasing him a little now.

He let out a low growl, bringing his hands to your hips and pulling himself toward you. “Mmmmhm… but you did something you shouldn’t have, didn’t you angel?”

“And what is that?” you ask.

“I happened to see a sexy little picture on Jake’s phone… one that I’ve seen before…” he says, continuing to tease you.

“Mmmm… I may have sent it… Are you jealous Sammy?” you ask, pressing yourself back to him.

“No. Should I remind you who has you bent over in the shower with their cock inside you?” he says, pressing just the tip to your opening.

You decided to keep going. “I opened the photo you sent me during the show tonight…you looked so hot Sam...made me wet just looking at it…couldn’t take my eyes off of you all night.” he was teasing your entrance again.

“Fuckkkkk me…” he huffed, letting himself enter you just a little bit.

“Yeah Sam, please. Listen to yourself, falling apart for me, do it.” You stepped your legs apart a little and swayed your hips for him, giving him no choice but to give you what you wanted. Suddenly, you heard the shower turn off.

You turned to face him, a devilish look painting his features.

“Go get on the bed. Don’t dry off.” He spoke sternly smacking your ass, and you had no choice but to do just that.

JAKE POV

You watch as the ice starts to melt in the glass as you pour over the tiny bottle of warm Jack Daniels. Only giving it just enough time to chill before tossing it back and twisting the lid on the next.

You listen as the TV drones on in the background, playing some crime investigation show that you haven’t been paying attention to. How could you after that?

You wish you could silence the thoughts plaguing your mind. Wish you could drown them in the mini bottles of liquor now swirling through your bloodstream. But you can’t.

When the bottles are empty and your mind is fuzzy you retire to the bed, turning off the lamp and lowering the volume on the TV. As you scroll through your phone your eyelids become heavy and start to become harder and harder to hold open.

Thump.

Your eyes shot open. What was that?

Thump.

You sat up in your bed, looking around to find the source of the noise. Fucking hotels. The clock read 1:07 am. You had only been asleep for about 15 minutes. Pushing your hair out of your face you shake your head and lay back down. You grab the remote, turning the TV off, and trying to close your eyes to find the sleep you were disturbed from.

Thump. Thump.

“What the fuck…” you growl, but thats when you hear it. The muffled groan.

Your eyes widen as you realize where the noise is coming from. Fuck me.

Then you hear it again, the stifled whine traveling through the wall from Sam’s room. Wait, are they fighting? A pitchy moan floats through the wall. Oh, they are not fighting…God, I should not be listening to this.

Grabbing the remote you turn the TV back on, hoping the noise will drown out the sex seeping in from next door. Fucking Sam, what an asshole. They could have at least gone to her room.

As you lay there staring at the TV screen you watch as the detectives cover a body with a tarp as you hear the repeated moans echoing through the walls. Shit, kill me too while you’re at it.

Turning the volume up further on the TV you placed a pillow over your head, and tried to go back to sleep. Letting the soft feather pillow rest over your face, you feel yourself starting to slip back into that sleepy state. As your eyes begin to shut you hear the headboard as it slams against the wall yet again. Jesus Christ, when did he get so much stamina?

You grab the pillow and throw it to the other side of the bed in frustration and that's when the final straw is snapped. The fucked out moan you can hear clear as day through the paper thin walls, ‘Sam…’

You grab your phone off of the nightstand, finding his contact and hitting call. It’s no surprise when it rings through to voicemail. Asshole. You sigh as you set the phone down, seeing the black room phone sitting on the stand next to the lamp. Ha...he can’t ignore that.

Flicking on the lamp you pick up the phone, and call in to the front desk. It rings in for a moment before the woman on the other end asks what she can do to help you. “Hey, this is Jake Kiszka in room 1109, could you please connect me to Sam Kiszka in room 1107?” you ask as politely as possible.

“Sure thing, have a great night.” she replies, transferring the call and letting it ring through. You pull the receiver away from your ear as you listen to hear his phone ringing next door. Got ya bitch.

“Hello?” he answers, voice thick with confusion.

“Good evening Samuel. Do you think you could keep it the fuck down over there?” you ask.

He clears his throat, “You can… hear… over there?” he asks nervously.

“Yeah, I can and if I have to hear one more thing, the next scream to leave your mouth will be the last when I come over there and make you the next victim on this late-night murder investigation show I'm watching.” you say, hanging up the phone. That should do it.

Turning the lamp back off you adjust your pillows and roll to your side. The noise stopped after that and you found yourself falling back asleep, but it was not lost on you that the noises you were hearing were also coming from her. Does he make her happy? Does she even remember what it felt like to be with you? You wanted to be the reason she made those noises, not him. Would you ever get to do that again? You forced the thoughts out of your head and let the darkness carry your mind away to a place far, far from here.

NIGHT TWO

HER POV

Your alarm goes off right at 7:00, forcing your eyes open in panic. The room is bright, as the sun shines through from the window. The curtains left open in the haste of the evening.

Turning your head you see Sam, still passed out next to you, clearly unaffected by the sound of the alarm. You smirk as you roll to your side, grabbing your phone and scrolling through your emails, trying to wake up your brain for another insane day of work.

After a few minutes, you take one last look at Sam, sneak out of the bed and gather your clothes from the floor, sliding them back on as you search for your room key. You shut the door quietly behind you, as you make your way to the elevator pressing the call button to take you to your floor.

It dings as the doors open to reveal none other than Josh standing inside, steaming hot cup of coffee in his hand.

“Good morning!” he says cheerily, voice still thick with sleep.

“Hi Josh, looks like I don't need to knock on your door do I?” you laugh, pressing the 4th floor button until it’s illuminated.

“Knock on my door?” he asks, sipping from the steaming cup.

“Oh, yeah I told Sam and Danny I would come knock on their doors when they needed to get up today. Like a wake up call kinda, but I don't need to wake them up for another hour or so. You guys have an interview at the venue this morning.” you answer.

“Oh. We do?” he asks, brow furrowed.

You pulled out your phone and looked at the schedule for today. “Uh, yeah, right here. 11:00, it’s for Premier Guitar. Looks like it’s a Sam and Jake interview.”

“Oh, the guy for Rig Rundown?” he asks.

“Yeah, that's what it says in the notes.” you reply.

“Hmm… no one ever wants to hear about what the singer does…” he says dramatically ending with a wink and a smile.

“You and Danny have one later in the day, drama queen.”

The elevator descends slowly and you watch as the numbers start to count down.

“So if you don't have to wake them up for another hour, where were you coming from?” he asks, with a knowing smirk.

You cut your eyes at him, not wanting to answer his question. “Would you look at that, here's my floor...” you say stepping out into the hallway through the open doors.

“Hey, wait.” he calls, holding the door open with his arm. You turn to look at him, sending him a questioning look.

“Can we… talk later?” he asks.

You swallow nervously as your mind tries to come up with an answer, “About what?”

He tilts his head in response and you know exactly what he wants to talk about. You let a sigh leave your chest as you concede, “Okay... Later.”

He smiles and removes his arm, taking a sip of his coffee and raising his eyebrow as the doors shut in front of him.

Shit.

—

After a long shower and some primping you are feeling good and ready to tackle another day. You check your phone to see that it’s time to go wake up the rest of the guys to make sure they have enough time to get ready and be at the venue on time.

Pressing the button for the elevator you make your way to Danny’s room first, knocking on the door twice and waiting for some type of confirmation that he was awake. After a minute or two you heard the lock twist and the door open, to see a mess of curls and tired eyes.

“Good morning…” he groans. “How long do I have? Is there coffee?” he asks.

“You have about an hour until we need to meet downstairs. Yes there is coffee.” you answer.

He drags his hand over his face and groans as he nods his head. “Thank you. Really. I will see you shortly.” he smiles, and you turn on your heels heading back to the elevator.

Stepping off on floor eleven, you try to decide if you should wake Sam first or Jake first, knowing that both had a very late night, and are not particularly morning people. Picking the lesser of the two evils you head to Sam’s door, tapping the key to the lock and letting it open.

He is almost exactly how you left him, except the blankets have been shoved down to the foot of the bed, the heat of the sun shining in, warming the room. You sit on the edge of the bed, and grab his leg, shaking it gently to try and wake him. “Sammy…” you whisper.

A groan leaves his chest, “Not yet…” he whines, throwing a pillow over his eyes.

“I let you sleep as long as I could…you have to get up or you’re going to be late.” you say softly.

“Ugh… you sound like my mother…” he says.

You stand up and walk to his side of the bed, hovering over top of him as your hands cage in his head. You lean down and press a kiss to the side of his neck, hoping that it would at least get him to open his eyes, and like magic it works.

His dark brown eyes flutter open quickly raking over you as his lips turn into a smile.

“Damn, you look gorgeous, did you do something different to your hair?” he asks, reaching up to run his fingers through the silky smooth locks.

You laugh as you stand up, “I had some time this morning so I gave myself a blowout, why do you like it?” you ask.

“Yeah… you look…hot.” he smiles, sitting up in the bed and grabbing your hand pulling you towards him. “How much time do we have again?” he asks suggestively.

“Not enough…now get up and get in the shower. I’ll see you downstairs in an hour. Please be on time…” you say making your way back to the door.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Next door. I have to wake up your brother.” you answer.

Guilt shoots through him as he remembers the events of the evening, “Probably not so sexy of a wake up call for him though, huh?”

You laugh, “No, probably not Sam. Just you.” you say in a mocking tone, letting the door shut behind you.

You nervously walk the few steps to his door, as the memory of his face last night flashes through your brain. If you had just been 2 minutes earlier he wouldn’t have seen you walking into Sam’s room. You swallow shakily as you lift your hand to knock on the heavy wooden door.

You stand there anxiously, waiting to see if you can hear any sign of life on the other side. When you hear nothing, you decide to knock again, this time being met with the door being thrown open and an irritated Jake on the other side.

His face softens as he realizes it’s you and he swallows back the harsh words that were about to leave his lips.

Your eyes travel up the length of his body as he stands there leaning against the door frame in just his sweats. You cast your eyes to the floor as you try to speak the twenty different thoughts swirling through your brain, “Umm… hey… I just…I woke up the rest of the guys… you have an interview later…just didn’t want you to oversleep. I didn’t mean to bother you…I didn’t even ask you if you wanted a wake up call, did I? You probably didn’t…I’m sorry… I was just next door and I thoug–” you stammered before he stopped you.

“Hey. Relax. It’s fine. Thanks for waking me up. Just use a key next time so I don’t have to get out of bed. I’m hungover as fuck, is there coffee downstairs anywhere?” he grumbles, rubbing his face.

You blink blankly at him as your brain searches for any words, “Uhh, yeah. Yes. There is. I can have room service send some up if you want.” you say pulling your phone from your back pocket.

“No, no it’s okay, I can get it. Thank you though. Thanks for waking me. What time do I need to be down there?” he asks.

You check the time on your phone, “Like… 45 minutes.” you answer, biting your lip.

His eyes meet yours, and he smiles softly as he nods his head, “Thank you.” You nod in return, turning to walk back to the elevator, and stepping inside as the doors opened. But as the doors began to close you noticed him still standing in his doorway, watching you leave. Your eyes meeting his and never breaking away until the doors slid shut.

—

Your foot bounces nervously on the lobby floor as you wait for the guys to begin trickling down stairs. You check the time on your phone as texts and emails continue to pour in. Danny is the first to meet you, taking a seat next to you on the small couch.

“I’m not surprised you’re the first one down.” you laugh.

“Yeah, I am usually the one doing the wake up calls, it was nice to be the recipient this time.” he smiles.

A few minutes later you see Sam strolling out of the elevator, fresh from the shower, hair still wet and slicked back, just barely touching the collar of his white shirt.

“My two favorite people!” he says, positioning himself on the chair across from you.

“Ready for your big interview?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah, we have done this with him before, but this time my bass actually has strings.” he laughs. “But, I had an idea and I will need your help…” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

He spends the next ten minutes telling you and Danny about his hairbrained idea involving a tiny table and chairs and a bottle of vodka, both of you erupting in laughter. You shoot a quick text to one of the crew members, trying to coordinate those details for him knowing it will add some comedy to an otherwise monotonous interview.

Summer is the next one down, sitting next to Danny and immediately starting up an overly animated conversation.

The elevator dings and you all turn your heads to see Josh and Jake walking out of the elevator together, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes meet Jakes.

He looks so…good. Dressed in a black button up, sans buttons, a navy blue blazer, and a pair of loose fitting jeans, he looked perfectly disheveled. Mature. Expensive. Much different from the guy you knew a few years ago in ripped jeans and cut off t-shirts. But as he approached you, you could smell him. His cologne leaving a trail behind him as he walked, spicy and warm and positively intoxicating. You swallowed harshly trying to keep your composure as you let the scent fill your nose.

“We ready to go?” Josh asked, looking around at the group.

You stood up from the couch, clutching your iPad, “Yeah, the van was here like twenty minutes ago.” you laugh.

“Some of us needed a little extra sleep this morning. Didn’t sleep well last night. Thin walls, you know?” Jake says, tossing a bitter look to Sam.

Sam’s face turns pale as he stands up and walks towards the door heading for the van. Guilt washes through you as you follow the rest of them out the doors and into the bright sun.

You all pile into the van, and thankfully the drive is short, as Summer has not stopped talking since the doors shut. All of the guys were being far too polite and were too hungover to tell her to stop. You spend most of the ride responding to emails and running over the itinerary for the day and before you know it you are pulling into the back of the venue. As you all step out, the guys linger waiting to be told where they need to be.

“Okay, Jake and Sam, John with Premier Guitar will be here in about 45 minutes to start the interview. Sam I already talked to Mike and he is getting your little table ready. Josh and Daniel, the interviewer from 105.9 will be here at 12:30. After that you’re free to do whatever you need to do. Summer, if you want to just kind of float around and get some photos of the guys, you are good to do your own thing. Any questions?” you ask.

They all nod their heads and break off towards the green room as you and Summer walk towards the stage to check on the progress.

“Was your room okay last night?” you ask, trying to make small talk.

She holds her camera up to her eye, checking her settings as she turns to you, “Yeah, it was really nice. How about yours?”

“Oh, yeah, the rooms are great. Hoping to get better sleep tonight though. Looking forward to another jam-packed day, first.” you laugh.

Looking over her shoulder she checks her surroundings, “Okay was it just me or was Jake looking extra good this morning? Did you smell him? Ugh, I hope he never buttons his shirts ever again.” she giggles.

You laugh, “He looked pretty hungover to me…”

“But you have to admit he's hot though…” she says, holding the camera up to her eye, snapping the capture button.

“Our boss? Jake?” you say, condescendingly.

“Ugh… objectively then. Just as a man.” she says.

“Yes, objectively as a man he is attractive, but he’s still our boss and has the ability to fire us for any reason he sees fit. I think it would be smart to keep that in mind, you know?” you quip.

“Yeah, yeah… I hear you.” she smiles, before scurrying off to the soundbooth.

You shake your head as you climb the stairs to the stage, looking to make sure the table and chairs are set in the back for Sam. When you see the tiny table and the drinks you laugh, ready to see how his little vision will play out later.

Walking back down the steps you thank the crew for assisting with the last minute addition before making your way to the green room. You check the time on your phone, seeing that the interviewer will be here any minute. Jake and Sam were lounging on the couch, nursing their hangovers with none other than more alcohol.

You shake your head as you address them, “Are you two ready?”

Sam stands up and slides his black loafers back on, as he tries to crack his knuckles, “Yeah I’m ready if he is.” he says motioning to Jake, who is sipping from his paper cup, sunglasses sitting low on his nose.

“Alright alright…Yes, I’m ready.” he says, pushing his sunglasses up and tossing back the rest of his drink. He stands to meet Sam and fixes his blazer and shirt, making himself look less hungover and more presentable.

A knock at the door has your head snapping to meet it, as you reach for the handle. You’re met with the sight of an older man, who you’re assuming was here to interview them, with a bag full of mics and a camera team.

“Hey, I’m John with Premier Guitar. You guys ready!?” he asks excitedly.

Suddenly Jake steps forward, his entire demeanor changing as he becomes a more polished and clean version of himself, shaking hands with the man like they were old friends. Jake led him and his crew out to the stage, as you and Sam followed closely behind.

“Geeze, that was weird, he just…turned on.” you say to Sam.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, he does that… Mr. Popularity… I tell ya…” he says. “Alright, see you in a bit.” he says, squeezing your hand before climbing up the stairs to the stage.

You watch from the side stage, as Jake talks intently about his passion, explaining the ins and outs of his set up, the ideas he came up with for the sound and the way he intends things to be heard. It’s incredibly addicting watching him speak so passionately about what he loves. You have a hard time tearing your eyes away from him as you watch him demonstrate the different pedals and effects, pouring his soul into every note.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed as you watched, but when a gentle hand made its way to your shoulder you were snapped from your moment of weakness.

“Oh, hi.” you say, turning to see Josh.

“Having fun?” he asks with a knowing tone.

“Just… making sure everything is running smoothly.” you answer.

“Right, right. That's all, hmm?” he asks with a wink.

You shake your head, “What’s up?”

“Come walk with me, wanna talk to you.” he says, gesturing to follow him.

“Right now? They are right in the middl–” you start.

“Exactly, let’s go.” he says, raising his eyebrows.

With a huff, you follow after him, meeting his stride as you head back towards the dressing rooms.

He steps inside, shutting the door behind you and taking a seat on the couch. You place your iPad on the table and sit down across from him.

“Okay, what’s up, are you firing me?” you laugh.

He laughs his genuine laugh, “No, of course not. You’re doing spectacular. No, I want to talk about… something else.”

You feel your palms start to sweat, and suddenly you know what he wants to talk about.

“Okay…” you reply nervously.

“How long are you two going to do this?” he asks.

“Do what?” you ask.

He tilts his head, “Come on Y/N, you know what. The back and forth, the subtle glances, the longing for each other from across the room…”

You let out a sigh,“I don’t think it’s like that between us anymore…I don’t think he feels… the same way anymore.” you offer.

A scoff leaves his chest, “Open your eyes Y/N. That man is deeply, deeply in love with you. Has been since he was sixteen years old. I think it’s safe to say he feels the same way as he always has.”

“He just broke up with Sophia, and… I don’t know, I thought maybe we would talk after all of that happened, but… we haven’t and… I’m just… waiting. I don’t know what for…I guess I just don’t want to mess things up. Tour just started. I don’t know Josh, everything is a mess. And really, truly he hasn’t really given me any indication that he wants to talk. Although… I guess he did ask to get drinks last night…”

“And… did you?” he asks, shocked.

“No.” you say looking at the floor.

“What? Why not?” he asks.

“Well… I had already made plans with Sam.” you reply.

He drags his hand across his face, “Shit Y/N…”

“Do you love him?” he asks.

“Who Sam!?” you ask, looking at him like he's crazy.

“No, Jake.” he replies.

You pause for a moment, your eyes searching his as you answer, “Of course I do, Josh. I never stopped.”

“So what are you waiting for? Go to him!” he urges.

“I can’t! It’s not that simple!” you say, raising your voice.

“It is! Cut things off with Sam and go talk to Jake! He needs you, and you’re torturing him. He is waiting for you!” he begs.

“He’s waiting for me? I’ve been waiting for him.” you breathe, almost a whisper.

“Yeah. He is. And in the meantime it’s killing him to watch you with Sam.” he says.

“He saw me…last night. I turned him down in the lobby. I really wanted to go with him, but I couldn’t just ditch Sam. He’s been there for me a lot lately, he means a lot to me, you know? Anyways, I felt terrible. Awful actually. But I went to Sam’s room, and as I was unlocking the door, Jake coming out of his room at the exact moment. He knew I turned him down for Sam. I wanted to disintegrate.” you say.

“I know. He texted me about it…Drank half of the mini bar because of it. Like I said, you’re torturing him.” he quipped. “You two need to talk. Seriously.”

“I know. I’m just scared Josh.” you admit.

“Don’t be scared, all he wants to do is love you.” he says.

“I’m not the same person I used to be. What if he doesn’t like who I am now?” you ask.

“He has loved every version of you he’s ever met, Y/N.” he offers.

You nod your head as you try to blink away the tears forming in your eyes.

“You are the only thing he has ever wanted, apart from this.” he says motioning around him. “Now he has it, but what is all of this without you? This will never be enough for him. He needs you.”

A single tear streaks down your face, as your walkie talkie beeps on your shoulder. ‘Y/N can you meet us at the soundbooth?’

“I have to go.” you say standing up and wiping away the tear.

“Okay, please, just think about what I said. Just talk to him.” he begs.

You swallow back the lump in your throat, “I will. Promise.” and with that you’re out the door.

As you hear it slam behind you, a shaky breath releases from your chest, just as Sam and Jake come barreling down the hallway. You do your best to put on a happy face as you see them, but you can see Jake’s smile drop as he meets your gaze.

Sam tries to stop you but you push past, “I have to go to the soundbooth but I’ll be right back okay?” Sam tosses you a concerned look but you ignore it, knowing if you turned around you would break down completely.

—

With only five minutes until the show began, you started to run through your final checklist, making sure everyone was dressed and ready, and had everything they needed. Again tonight you got to stand by and watch their pre show ritual, your heart instantly flooded with pride, just the same as last night.

You stand by the door as they file out one by one, checking to make sure their outfits are perfect. Josh first, then Danny, followed by Sam.

“Spin, let me see you.” you say, causing Sam to twirl in a circle with his topo chico in hand.

“Oh, let me fix your pants.” you say squatting down to smooth out the baby blue fabric on his leg.

“There. Off you go.” you say, swatting his butt with the iPad in your hand.

Finally, Jake walks out of the door, and as you check his outfit you see his collar flipped up again. “Hey, wait...” you say, the crowd roaring in the distance.

He turns to face you, swallowing as his eyes meet yours. “Your collar…again.” you smile, focusing on the fabric, folding it into place, letting your hand slide down his lapel ever so slightly. He turns and repositions his jacket, throwing his hair over his shoulders before turning back to you “Am I good?” he asks innocently, eyes searching yours.

Your eyes flick back up to meet his, “You’re perfect.” you breathe.

You watch as the sides of his lips turn upwards, as he tries to stifle back a smile.

He turns to catch up with the guys, looking over his shoulder at you once more before climbing the stairs to the stage.

You toss your head back onto the wall and sigh, continuing to think about what Josh said earlier. He was right, you really didn’t know what you were waiting for.

You would talk to him. Tonight.

—

Somehow the show tonight was even better than the night before. While you’re sure it had something to do with the show being recorded tonight, part of you wants to believe they will just get better and better with every show under their belt. Josh’s vocals were incredible, nailing each note with perfect precision, and making it look easy.

Your eyes were once again drawn to Jake as he played through the set putting every ounce of effort he had into the performance. He lived for this, and it was very apparent in the passion he poured into each show. Every so often you would peel your eyes away from his hands working the strings, and focus on Sam, vying for the attention of the girls on the barricade screaming his name. You shook your head and smiled at the looks he would give them. He is such a flirt.

When the guys rushed off stage before the encore, it was a flurry of hands, towels and water flying past your face as they all ran to the bathrooms. Quickly they returned one by one, preparing for the last 20 minutes of the show.

Pulling his jacket back over his arms, you watched the sweat continue to pour down Jake's stomach meeting the top of his pants. As you watched it drip you caught yourself, forcing your eyes back up to his face, only to be caught in the act.

A sly smile crossed his lips as he repositioned his guitar over his body, raising his eyebrows at you quickly before striding back onto the stage.

Shit. What was that?

The rest of the show was magnetic and you positively could not pull your eyes away from Josh as he gave the crowd everything he had. As the last notes rang through the venue you stood to the side, watching the guys rush past you one by one with haste as they made their way back to the green room.

You left the crew to do their thing and begin breaking down the set, as you start to run through the inventory checklist backstage, checking off each item as it was placed into its case. As you make your way towards the dressing rooms, you instruct the crew to hang their white coveralls in the travel case to be dry cleaned. Stepping into the main green room you see everyone standing around enjoying a much deserved drink, talking and laughing over the success of the show.

“Hey guys, you sounded amazing tonight! The van should be here in about 15 minutes to take you back to the hotel, so if you will just hang your suits in the case outside the door, I will send them off to be dry cleaned.”

They all nod in agreement, turning back to their conversations. Sam walks over to you, throwing his arm over your shoulder planting a kiss on your cheek. “You did it! Your first shows are done and dusted.” he smiles.

You wrap your arm around his waist, and laugh, “Well, I still have to make sure the rest of the crew gets the stage and everything packed up before I am done, but you guys are free to go when the van gets here. No need to wait on me.” you smile.

“Nonsense. We’re staying, right guys?” he asks, pulling you closer into his side.

“Yeah, we don’t have anywhere to be, as long as there is alcohol we are set.” Josh answers with a laugh.

“Okay, it shouldn't be too long I don’t think…” you say, releasing yourself from Sam's grip. “I’ll go check and see what the progress looks like and report back.”

You excuse yourself from the room, mind a blur as the image of Jake’s still sweaty body sat lounging on the leather couch. Shit, will I ever get used to that?

Returning to the stage you see that the crew is practically finished, just loading the pieces into the semi. You talk with the crew, releasing them for the night once they are finished, and telling them you would send them the schedule for tomorrow as soon as you could.

About twenty minutes later you are walking back into the green room to see that everyone had changed into their normal clothes, hanging their suits just like you asked. As you took a survey of the room you saw Sam and Danny chatting in the corner, Josh looking at his phone and Jake talking intently to Summer, who was practically perched in his lap as she spoke to him.

Your brow furrowed as you watched them, deeply engrossed in what each other was saying. You couldn’t fully hear their conversation, but you could see the pink in Jake’s cheeks as he laughed and smiled at her words. You could see the twinkle in her eyes as she continued to flirt with him, starting a fire in your chest. Maybe he does like her…

You turn your attention to Josh, “You ready to get out of here?” you ask.

He turns his head to look at Jake and Summer before answering you. “Yeah, probably should. Give any thought to what I said earlier?”

“Yeah, I did… I thought maybe I would talk to him tonight but now I don't know… He seems a little… preoccupied.” you respond.

“Ahh…He’s just being nice, don’t worry about her. He only has eyes for you.” he smiles as he stands up. “Alright boys, let's go!” he says, getting the attention of the other guys.

You make your way over to Sam, letting him pull you into his lap wrapping his arms around your waist as you laugh. You see Jake's eyes flash over to yours, connecting briefly as Sam whispers into your ear, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he continues his conversation with Danny. Jake’s face drops, the sudden rosy quality of his face draining away to a pale shade that made you feel sick.

You didn’t want Summer to see the interaction between you and Sam so you quickly stood up, and made your way over to the door, opening it for everyone as they started to gather their things. Summer was the first out, camera bag in hand and completely oblivious to your moment with Sam. Jake followed after her, stopping to let Danny and Josh walk out before him.

As they filed out you shut the door behind yourself, wondering if Josh was actually right about Jake. Was he really still in love with you? He looked awfully cozy with Summer…

No. No more excuses. You were going to talk to him. You didn’t know how, but you knew you had to.

JAKE POV

Walking to catch up with Josh you leaned closer to whisper into his ear, “Did you see that shit Sam pulled? Why does he do that right in front of me? Does he think this is some kind of game?” you asked.

“Ahh… he probably saw how comfortable you looked with Summer and thought you wouldn’t mind.” he answers, raising his eyebrow.

“She came to talk to me… what was I supposed to do?” you ask.

“She did not come to talk to you Jacob. She was flirting with you. Even Y/N noticed.” he says.

What?

“She did?” you asked, rubbing your jaw nervously.

“Yeah…Hey listen I talked to her today…” he starts just as you arrive at the van.

“And… what? What did she say?” you beg, turning him to face you.

The van driver begins to talk to him and he gets distracted from your conversation, “Josh. What did she say?” you demand.

He looks around, not making eye contact with you, “Now isn’t a good time. I will tell you later. Promise.” he says, stepping into the van.

Fucker.

You climb in after him, pulling your phone from your pocket to distract yourself from the sight of her and Sam sitting in front of you. Summer climbs in taking the seat next to you and smiling at you as she settles her camera bag onto her lap. As the van begins to drive away she pulls her camera from its case and starts to flip through the photos from the night. You peer over her shoulder as you see shot after shot of yourself playing.

Damn, those are kinda good…

Every few photos she would pat your thigh to get your attention, sending a shiver up your spine as she would show you a particularly good shot. Much of the van ride was silent, apart from the few ‘ooo’s’ that would leave her mouth as she looked through her shots.

As the van pulled up outside the hotel you all filed out, you and Josh being the last ones out. Summer walked ahead as you stayed back to try and get Josh to finish what he was trying to tell you earlier.

“Okay, tell me. What did you two talk about.” you ask.

He sighs as he answers, “Well… you.”

You look ahead to find her, and see her walking into the elevator. “Yeah, and…” you urge.

The doors shut, leaving the two of you waiting for the next elevator.

“I think it would be better if you heard it from her. She wants to talk, Jake. She told me.” he says.

The doors open to the elevator, and the both of you walk in, pressing the buttons for your respective floors, as the doors shut once again.

“Okay but when?” you ask desperately.

“I don't know Jake, but I think it will be soon.” he says, as the doors open on his floor. “Just be patient. Call me if you need me.” he says, stepping out and walking away.

God damnit. You were done being patient. Should you go to her? Should you wait for her to come to you?

Tapping your key card to your door you step inside and throw yourself onto the bed with a sigh. Fucking hell what an exhausting day.

As you lay there running your hands over your face you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Removing a hand from your face you reach into the pocket and retrieve your phone.

Summer 11:48pm : Some of us are going to the bar downstairs, wanna come?

You practically drained the mini bar last night, why not? Maybe Y/N will be there.

You 11:50pm: Sure, be there shortly.

Summer 11:51pm: :)

After a few minutes freshening up in the bathroom you make your way back down to the lobby and over into the bar. You see Danny and Summer sitting at the bar chatting and walk over to join them.

“Hey man, didn’t think you were gonna make it.” Danny says facetiously.

“Ahh Daniel… You know I can’t turn down a good stiff drink after a long show.” you laugh.

You take a seat next to Summer, and order a Glenlivet on the rocks, sipping the spicy liquid from the rim of the glass.

After a little rundown of the show the conversation quickly turns into Danny telling Summer every embarrassing story about you that he can come up with. Summer is full of laughter, patting your knee and smiling as she listens intently to Danny’s stories.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or exhaustion but, the more you got to talk to her and get to know her, you were starting to enjoy her company. She is kind of pretty…she has a great smile.

You found yourself listening closer as she spoke, and genuinely laughing at her jokes. After two more scotch’s Daniel retired to bed, leaving you and Summer at the bar, still sipping away as the conversation flowed.

As she grabbed her glass from the bar top, the condensation pooling under her fingers causing her glass to slip, spilling the mojito all over herself.

“Shit!” she exclaimed, grabbing the tiny cocktail napkins from the counter and pressing them to her now soaked shirt.

“Here let me grab you some more napkins.” you say reaching over the bartop.

“Actually, want me to run up and grab you a dry shirt? I have a few spares.” you offer.

Her eyes flash over to yours, “Are you sure you don't mind?”

“No, not at all.” you say, standing a little too quickly, causing your head to spin.

“Actually, do you mind if I come with you? I’d love to be able to wash this off a little bit.” she asks.

“Uh, sure, no problem.” you say, leading the way.

She follows you into the elevator, her wet shirt clinging to her body, and you find that you’re having a hard time peeling your eyes away from her chest.

You swallow heavily as the doors open, and you let her walk out in front of you, telling her the room number as you make your way to the door. You tap your card to the lock, letting it open and guiding her inside.

“Bathroom is right there, use anything you need.” you offer, walking over to your suitcase looking for a shirt.

Finding the one you were looking for you turn around to see her stepping back out of the bathroom, but the wet shirt is gone, and she’s approaching you in just her bra.

Fuck…

You quickly turn around, trying to give her privacy, only to be met with a giggle from across the room.

“You don’t have to turn around Jake…I’m not shy…” she says.

“Just trying to give you some privacy.” you stammer.

“It’s just a bra, it’s not like I’m naked…” she laughs. “It’s okay, really. You can turn around. I know you want to…”

You press your lips together, biting them between your teeth as you turn to face her. She’s right. You do want to turn around. You hand her the t-shirt and like magnets, your eyes are drawn to her chest and the curve of her breasts spilling over her black bra.

She watches you as you take her in, finding your mind wandering to a place you least expected it to. She slides the shirt over her head, never breaking eye contact with you as you step closer to her.

“Well, how does it look?” she asks, stepping closer to you.

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket as you slide your hands around her waist.

Her hands come to rest at the opening of your shirt, sliding up your chest and behind your neck.

“A perfect fit, I’d say. But I almost liked it better, off. ” you say, voice thick with lust.

She reaches down, grabbing the hem of the shirt, tossing it onto the bed behind you leaving her in just her bra in front of you.

Your thumbs circle the smooth skin of her stomach as she repositions herself in front of you, pulling your face closer to hers.

“Better?” she whispered against your lips.

“Yeah, I think so.” you answer confidently, pressing your lips to hers, tasting the mint from her mojitos on her lips. You pull away quickly, testing the waters before kissing her again, this time a little harder.

The kiss becomes more furious, your tongue tangling with hers as her hands wind into your hair. She steps backwards pulling you towards the bed, as you trail sloppy kisses down her neck and chest, pushing her towards the bed.

“Did you like the pictures I took of you tonight, Jake?” she asked, voice thick with lust.

“Mmmmhm…” you groaned, as she fell beneath you.

She falls backwards as you kneel over her, trailing kisses over the curve of her breasts.

“You looked so good. So sexy. I couldn’t stop…” she breathes.

She grabs your hand to place it over the cup of her bra, guiding you to grab at her curvy flesh. You return your mouth to hers, deepening the kiss, as your fingers slide the strap of her bra down her shoulder.

“Do you want to fuck me Jake?” she asks in a breathy tone.

Just as you go to answer her you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket again and you pull away from her and kneel on the bed, quickly looking to see who it was.

Shit.

You look back to Summer, waiting for you to return your lips to hers, and answer her question. Right then you felt a pang in your chest. What are you doing? You are making a huge mistake. You stand up from the bed, adjusting your pants as you open the message.

LD 12:03am : Hey, are you still up? Can we talk?

Your heart sinks into your stomach as you read it. No…Fuck. What shit timing.

Your eyes flick back to Summer. She has to leave, right now.

Leaning away from her, you push yourself up off of the bed, fixing your shirt and wiping your lips.

“I’m sorry, we can’t do this.” you say stepping back and pacing across the room.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“We work together, we can’t hook up. We shouldn’t have done this.” you answer.

“What’s the big deal Jake? It doesn’t have to turn into anything. No one has to know. Can be our little secret.” she smirks.

“No. It can’t. You’re here to do your job, and I am here to do mine. If you’re not capable of that, I will find someone else to do it.” you say sternly.

She sits up, pulling the t-shirt over her head, covering herself back up as she stands up from the bed. “Damn I guess Y/N was right…did you turn her down too?” she asks sarcastically.

“What?” you ask.

“Y/N told me not to bother with you, that you only cared about work. I thought she was just trying to scare me off… Guess she was right afterall. What a shame…” she says, grabbing her purse from the chair.

She does care…

“Summer, you are a beautiful girl but this just can’t happen between us. I really am sorry, okay? I don’t want to hurt your feelings, I just think we need to keep things professional for the sake of the tour.” you say, trying your best to calm the fire.

“Sure Jake…whatever you say… I’ll see you in the morning.” she says, shutting the door behind her.

Oh my god, what a nightmare.

How could you be so stupid? Worst of all you weren’t even enjoying it.

You open the message reading it again. ‘Can we talk?’ Your mind was reeling. You were in no shape to try and talk to her, even though that’s all you wanted to do. The scotch was still working its way through your system, and you knew she deserved more than your half drunk confession.

You needed to text her back. At least tell her you wanted to, just not tonight. You walked over to the mini bar, pulling out the only remaining bottles. Tequila.

You walked over to the door, flipping the lock and kicking off your shoes. You stripped down to your boxers and made your way into the bed, mini bottles in tow. You twisted the lid on the first tossing it down as you reopened the text. What should you say?

Typing in the message you hover over the send button, but quickly delete the thought. No. That’s not right.

You shoot down the next bottle and place it on the nightstand, turning off the lamp. You settle down into the pillows and push your hair from your face. Okay. Let’s try again.

The screen was starting to become blurry as the tequila entered your bloodstream. You were having a hard time focusing and you could feel the sleep creeping into your body. Your eyes began to close as your thumb hovered over the button.

Just send the message Jake.

Just hit send.

—

HER POV

The next morning, everyone began piling into the vans to head back home bright and early. Light chatter filled the cabin, everyone still feeling the effects of the long few days. Exhausted, you begin looking around to do another head count. It was starting to feel like you were a preschool teacher counting your students every 5 minutes.

Most of the crew was accounted for…but of course, only ¾ of the actual band members. “Where is Jake?” You asked, walking over to them standing by the door of the van.

“He’ll be here, you know how he is.” Josh said, not looking up from his phone. You glanced at the time, with a sigh.

“We don’t have time for that, we’re leaving in 15 minutes. I have to get the crew home, they have other places to be.” You spat, aggravated. You stood for another minute or two, and decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Fine. I will go get him myself.” you said, making your way back inside. Luckily, you hadn’t turned in the keycards to the front desk.

You make the trek up to his room, suddenly feeling anxious again as you approach the door. ‘Just use a key next time so I don’t have to get out of bed’ running through your mind.

Well, I need him to get out of bed. You pressed the key to the lock, hearing it release. You closed your eyes, and took a breath. You put just your face inside the door, trying not to look around.

“Jake? Hey… We gotta go, it’s time.” You said softly.

Silence.

You peeked inside a little more, seeing his hair splayed out on the bed. Still asleep, of course.

You decided to walk in a little further, closing the door softly behind you. He had his back to the door, laying on his side. His body was wrapped around two or three pillows and he was in nothing but his black boxers. Your chest tightened at the sight. It felt strange seeing him this way, asleep and completely vulnerable.

“Jake…” You tried again. Dead asleep.

You walked around the other side of the bed, still feeling like you were intruding, but also taking in the sight of him. You had always loved watching him sleep, his features even more relaxed than they usually were. His eyelids jumping back and forth while he dreamed, his lips parted slightly as he breathed. You wondered what he was dreaming about, secretly wishing it was you.

You would admit that you were upset that he didn’t text you back last night, but it was late, and he had to have been completely drained. But still you held out hope.

You came around to face his front, seeing that he still had his phone in his hand. He fell asleep reading my text? Maybe he had seen it? As you grabbed it from his hand you placed it on the nightstand, but it was then that you really took in the state of his room. Clothes everywhere, and tons of empty bottles lying scattered across the bedside table and floor. As realization hit you, your mood shifted leaving you angry and confused. What is wrong with him?

“JACOB!” You yelled, finally feeling bold enough to shake him physically on the arm. “Wake up! We’ve got to go!”

His eyes finally began to open as he woke up. When he saw that it was you waking him up, the smallest smile formed on his face, melting you into a puddle.

He finally opened his eyes all the way, and stretched his muscles, straightening his legs down the length of the bed revealing more of him than you ever thought you’d see this morning.

“Mmm” he groaned, his face stretching into a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey, I’m sorry to wake you, but we’re running really late. I need you to get downstairs and loaded up.” you say.

His eyes widen, and he searches for his phone. “Shit, I’m sorry. I must’ve slept through my alarm.” He said, rolling off the other side of the bed and walking into the bathroom.

“You probably didn’t even set one, seeing as how you killed the mini bar again last night, hmm?” You said with bitterness in your voice.

He breathed a sigh of agitation, with himself or with you, you weren’t sure.

You gave him a second of privacy in the bathroom, and he stumbled back out into the room, holding his head.

“Hungover?” You asked, already knowing the answer. You could spot hungover Jake a mile away. Definitely.

“A little I suppose.” He spoke quietly, suddenly looking defeated.

“Jake, I know everything’s...not really…okay right now. You just went through a bad breakup and...nothing’s ideal but, you seem off, and it’s only the start of the tour. I don’t want to interject, but I...I really don’t like seeing you like this. We all need you to take care of yourself, you know? This thing doesn’t work without you.” You said, speaking in white lies, but needing something to get him to talk a little. After all, you didn’t get to last night.

He scoffed, picking up various items and throwing them in his suitcase while you stood watching. “Look, I had every intention of talking to you last night. But by the time you texted, I had already drank way too much…I was halfway asleep, and I…I don’t know. It felt...” he trailed off.

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for the rest.

He conceded, “I don’t really know it just felt like the wrong time. I was…” he stalled.

“Just one word, Jake. That’s all I need.” You spoke quietly.

He hesitated hard, until he finally spoke, “Scared, I guess? Nervous?”

You were lost for words. Why was he scared to talk to me? Had we really fallen that far away from each other?

Your eyes met his for a second and your heartbeat began to race. “I don’t know. We can…talk about it later? Can you…can you just help me throw some of this shit in my bag so we can get out of here?” He asked, still rushing around in slow motion.

You snapped away from your thoughts. “Yeah, sure.”

You began picking up various clothing items from the floor, and as you made your way around the bed, you spotted something that looked out of place. Is that? You picked up a woman’s shirt from the floor, holding it up to inspect it. Your gut sank. This is what Summer was wearing last night.

“This yours?” You asked, dangling the shirt from your finger.

He turned around to see you holding it up, and he immediately let his head fall back as he sighed. “Fuck.”

“Fuck is right.” You tossed the shirt onto the bed, and felt your head become fuzzy with rage. Was anything he just said true? “I guess I see why you were scared to come and talk to me last night.”

He slowly walks over to you, “No…Y/N, I swear it’s not what it-”

“It’s not what it looks like?” you say cutting him off. “Seeing your photographer’s shirt on your floor? I think it’s exactly what it looks like, Jake.” You were spitting fire towards him. You decided you needed to get out of that room as quickly as you could.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your night.” You said with your back turned to him. “We’re leaving here in five minutes, with or without you.” and with that, you slammed the door shut behind you.

JAKE POV

Your heart was pounding out of your chest. Oh fuck, what did I do? Do I go after her? Do I let her go? What the fuck was I thinking?

You quickly shove everything into your suitcase, cursing yourself with every movement. God damnit I have fucked up.

Looking around the room to make sure you had everything you really took in the mess. The entire trash can was filled with mini bottles and they were scattered across every open surface. Shit. Maybe she was right. I do need to get my life together.

You won her heart once, you knew you could do it again, and that's exactly what you were going to do. You had to.

Quickly pulling on whatever clean clothes you could find you zipped your suitcase and were rushing out the door, and downstairs to the van.

As you made your way to the door, Josh threw it open and jumped out, helping you load your suitcase into the back.

“The fuck man?” he asks.

“Didn’t set an alarm. My mistake.” you answer.

“Well, all the good seats are taken, so you’re in the back with me now.” he says, closing the back door.

You slide into the van, eyes searching for Y/N, and finding her next to Sam in the middle row. She doesn’t look at you, or even acknowledge your presence, but you deserve it. You can’t even imagine what she’s thinking. As you settle into your seat you close your eyes trying to process the events of the morning. How it felt waking up to see her face. How normal it felt to have her there. How everything quickly shattered as she realized how messed up you were. How it got even worse when she found Summer’s shirt.

You wished you could go back. You wished you never went to the bar last night. If you had just waited, this morning could have been completely different…

“Hey Jake?” you hear the sound of Summer’s voice echo through the van. You were so lost in your head you didn’t even notice she was up front. Your heart sinks as you wait to hear what she has to say.

You flick your eyes up to meet hers, raising your eyebrow.

“Thanks for letting me borrow this last night.” she says, pulling the folded shirt from her bag. You practically stop breathing as you watch her hand it to Y/N. “Can you pass this back there?” she asks her.

She hesitates as she grabs the shirt, turning back to you in what felt like slow motion.

Your eyes met hers, pleading with her as she spoke, “From Summer.”

Your arms don't even move to grab it as you stare at her. The thoughts in your brain are moving a mile a minute and you can't seem to catch even one.

Josh grabs the shirt for you, throwing it into your lap. “Thanks.” he says, as Y/N turns back around, leaning her head on the van window.

Could things get any fucking worse? Why the fuck did she have to do that? Why couldn’t she just give it to me later?

God. Y/N…Her face…she probably thinks we–

Fuck, I have to text her.

You quickly pull your phone from your pocket, bringing up her name, and opening the thread. Shock pulsing through your body as you look at the message you typed out last night, as it waited to be sent.

I never hit send. Oh she fucking hates me… I will never be able to explain this to her now.

You look up into the rearview mirror hoping to catch her eyes, but all you see is her staring blankly out of the window. You can tell she is in her head.

You 8:27am: It looks bad. I know it looks so bad. I can explain everything. All of it. Can we please talk when we get back?

You look back up watching her in the mirror as she glances down at her phone reading the message. You see the little crease in her eyebrows as she reads. The pain setting into her features. She sets her phone down and turns back to the window.

Fuck.

You: 8:28am: Please don’t shut me out again.

Your phone buzzes in your lap and you eagerly grab it hoping to see her name, but it's not her. It’s Josh.

Josh 8:29am: What the fuck did you do Jake?

You turned to look at him shaking your head as you replied.

You 8:30am: Made the biggest mistake of my life.

Josh 8:30am: Did you fuck her?

You 8:31am: Fuck no. Of course not. It just looks like it. Y/N wont answer me. I don’t know what to do.

Josh 8:32am: For once I don’t know what to tell you.

You 8:32am: Do you think I blew it?

You watch him type, before quickly deleting it. He locks his phone and places it on his knee, sending you a sympathetic look. You knew what he was going to say. You could practically hear it in your own head.

You reopen your thread with her, looking at your messages, marked as read. At least she is reading them. Taking a moment you collect your thoughts the best you can, giving it one last shot.

You 8:40am: I get it. I wouldn’t answer me either. But I want you to know that I fell asleep last night alone, thinking about you. Trying to text you back. I typed it over and over, but I couldn't get it right. I swear I’ve fallen asleep thinking about you every single night for the past 4 years, Y/N. Please, just give me a chance to explain.

You hit send delivering the message, and watching her in the rearview to see if she would read it. Lifting her head from the window you watch as her eyes look down, reading the message. You see her expression drop yet again, and her hand come up to her face trying to discreetly wipe away the tear slipping from her lash line. But you saw it. Even worse, you caused it.

You’re sure you felt your heart crack wide open at the sight. It was a pain you’d felt before. Similar to the day she left. A pain you swore you’d never let yourself feel again. But here you were, watching her in the rearview, begging for a chance to be hurt again. You’d rather be hurt by her, than not at all.

You could feel your own eyes welling with tears, and just as you were about to look away, her eyes met yours, bloodshot and full of tears. It was as if your world had momentarily stopped turning. You both sat there, eyes locked on each other, with not a word uttered between the two of you. Pure silence. The deafening kind.

You didn’t have to say anything. You both knew how this ended.

Chapter 11

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