#I wish my mom was here and my husband wasn’t

[dragoon811]

Christmas presents all wrapped.

I survived.

[januaryembrs]

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

[sanakiras]

BOUND BY BLOOD

PAIRING — yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

❝ WHO WILL YOU BE WHEN NO ONE CAN STOP YOU? ❞

WORD COUNT — 23k

SYNOPSIS — in an attempt to escape your past, you join your mother when she moves in with her soon-to-be husband at the other side of the country. the only downside is that your new stepbrother causes you to sink deeper into the rabbit hole you were so desperately trying to leave behind.

TAGS — depictions of death, dark content (stepcest + incestuous undertones), mc and jeonghan are two fucked up pervs coming together to maximize their joint slay, explicit sexual content, red hair!jeonghan, author hates her fucking writing and is a raging perfectionist, do with this information what you will!

♪ — ethel cain - family tree,, charli xcx - apple,, ruelle - monsters,, boy harsher - pain,, lana del rey - in my feelings,, unloved - danger,, twin tribes - monolith,, banks - the fall

NOTE — title is not what u think it is i promise. do keep in mind that this is just fictional and nothing more than a silly idea i wanted to make into a story, so please (!) skip if the tags make you uncomfortable <3

PROLOGUE

when he checks her pulse to see if she’s still alive, you see a single car nearing the scene, the driver of which you then recognize as the last person that should see this.

joshua hits the brakes and hurries out of the car. “i saw you drive off like crazy, what the hell happened—”

his words are caught in his throat when he sees the body.

“shua. she’s gone.” your voice is strained as the sobs remain choked-up in your throat, your shaky hands tugging at his arm.

tears well up in his eyes. “what the—how did this happen?”

jeonghan forces himself to sound remotely shaken up. “i just drove here and she ran in front of the car. it was an accident, i swear.”

but a part of joshua doesn’t buy it. “out of nowhere? what the fuck is this, jeonghan? are you lying to me?”

“no. i swear to you—”

but he doesn’t let him finish. “this is insane. we have to do something, tell the cops what happened here, and with her brother—”

it’s then that jeonghan’s softer approach fades into something meaner. he pushes him against the hood of the car, trying to talk some sense into him. “and what do you think the cops will say, huh? you think they’ll just smile at you for fessing up and let you walk out freely? you’re an accomplice to murder, shua. everyone you know will hate you. this will haunt your name for the rest of your life ― get it into your thick skull once and for all.”

joshua’s breathing quickens with his sobs. “i can’t deal with this the way you can. i can’t do it.”

“you can, and you will.” he grabs his face, wiping the fresh tears away. “you just have to breathe, and you deny. you deny everything. you were not here, okay? i need you to go home, she and i will fix this.”

“you can’t keep making me go through this. how many more deaths do i need to have on my conscience?”

jeonghan shakes his head calmly, embracing him, his one hand on the back of joshua’s neck. “it’s not your fault, shua. it’ll be okay, promise.”

I. STRANGERS

[ SEVERAL MONTHS EARLIER ]

your mother has always had a habit of moving from relationship to relationship. the passing of your father, which happened when you were too young to remember, left her trying to find something in the men around her you highly doubted she ever would.

but that changed a few weeks ago. because apparently, she’s finally found herself a man she wants to stay with. or so she told you. you’ll have to take her word for it.

the one wish of yours she’s always respected was to keep her boyfriends away from you — the last thing you wanted was some guy trying to be a father figure, and since her frequent relationships were often short-lived, there wasn’t really a point to getting to know them. seeing as you departed from home for your freshman year of college nearly two years ago, it’s no surprise that you were barely able to keep up with your mom’s romantic life.

when you arrived home for the summer break, she told you she finally found someone she was madly in love with, happily showing off the shiny diamond sitting on her finger. her fiancé is apparently some rich man living a few hours away, in a huge house at the outskirts of the city.

she initially didn’t expect or plan for you to come live there with her, nor for you to transfer to a different university, though she figured it must’ve been because of what happened last year.

nevertheless, she was happy to have you with her.

and now, two days before starting your third year at a different school, you’re seated in the backseat of the rolls-royce with your mother, and all you can do is stare out the window while the car pulls through the tall gates.

the place is even bigger than you were expecting — a manor straight out of the movies. the last sunbeams of august shine on your face through the glass window as you gaze to the outside.

well, you suppose living here for a little while before you find your own place isn’t the worst thing in the world.

you’ve only met your mother’s future husband once prior to the engagement. you remember he introduced himself as the owner of a successful international hotel franchise. he’s not too bad, clearly doing his best to not act like a father to you whilst simultaneously trying to show you that you’re more than welcome.

once you’ve arrived and said your greetings, your mother looks around for a moment. “where’s your son? is he inside?” she asks, but her fiancé sighs in disappointment.

“no, his flight was delayed, unfortunately, so he’s staying there for the night. he’ll be home tomorrow.”

right, you almost forgot. the fiancé has a son who’s a couple months younger than you, and since university is only twenty minutes away from the house, he still lives here as well.

yeah, you’re not looking too forward to meeting the guy. your mom hasn’t met him yet either, nor do you have any idea what he looks like, but from what she’s told you, he’s around your age, wicked smart, and friendly.

as you go inside the house, you quickly realize that your mother managed to land herself a man with a massive bank account. expensive chandeliers, marble tiled floors with big carpets that don’t have a speck of dirt on them, staff that’s taking your belongings upstairs — you’re impressed.

a member of said staff shows you to your room, which could honestly be considered an apartment, given its size. aside from the spacious bed that could easily fit three people, the room is decorated with dim lighting, big glass windows with a view of the courtyard, a fireplace, and your own private walk-in closet and bathroom.

well, shit. maybe you should just ask your mom if her future husband would pay your tuition as well.

despite getting to sleep in the most beautiful room you’ve ever seen, your first night in the manor is restless, and you arrive at university with tired eyes, hoping the caffeine will kick in soon.

traffic was so shitty that you’re now running late as well, so you rush to the elevators to get to your class in time.

you have a lecture scheduled on the seventh floor, yet you don’t see the number on the display, and you don’t particularly feel like walking up a ridiculous number of stairs.

“you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

you look down at your phone to see if you got the number right, only to be greeted by a guy with dark hair and tiny silver hoop earrings standing beside you, clearly looking you in the eye. “everything okay?”

“i just—i’m new, and i gotta get to the seventh floor, and i don’t understand why this elevator doesn’t go there—”

he quickly interrupts you. “we have two elevator blocks. this one is for even-numbered floors, you need the other one. c’mon, i’ll show you.”

you walk after him, passing two corners before getting to the elevators that take you to the odd-numbered floors. he presses the button, gesturing to the free elevator about to go up.

“thanks for the help. you got a class too?”

“yeah. ninth floor, though,” he replies, smiling at you, “i’m joshua, by the way.”

joshua’s hair is neatly gelled back with one or two strands hanging out at the front. you notice his slightly red lips, strong jawline, and gentle smile.

the door of the elevator opens again, and you realize you’ve already made it to your stop.

“sorry, i gotta go. it was nice meeting you.” you tell him before getting out, failing to introduce yourself.

you faintly hear him say bye as you head into the lecture hall, a big sigh escaping you once you’re finally seated.

your first day consists of a lecture of two hours followed by a regular class of three hours. the experience of a long first day in a constantly crowded space has made you both anxious and tired, so you go outside, stumbling upon a secluded spot between the buildings you’ve had class in today.

it’s the quietest place you’ve come across so far. it allows you to take a breather, a moment to yourself in the hot mess that’s been the past couple weeks, if not months.

although you don’t smoke often, you do have a pack of cigarettes sitting in your bag — and you find yourself reaching for it. unfortunately, your lighter doesn’t really seem to be working today, and you can’t help but groan in annoyance. “fucking hell—”

“you know that’s against the rules, right?”

when you look to the side, you spot some guy standing across from you, his hands sitting in his pockets as if he’s got all the time in the world to have this conversation with you.

a snarky reply works its way out of your throat. “what, you planning to rat me out?”

he pretends to think about it for a moment. “wouldn’t be a lot of fun if i did that, right?”

all you do is shrug your shoulders as you attempt to light your cigarette again, but he suddenly stretches his arm out, holding up his own lighter to let him do it for you.

the gesture makes you stare at him from under your brows for a few seconds, but he doesn’t move a muscle, waiting for you to accept.

so you slightly lean forward, allowing him to light it, and he looks at you with a certain level of intrigue.

he’s got something interesting about him, aside from the fact that he’s ridiculously handsome. his hair is dyed in the shade of a dark red — burgundy, in this bright sunlight — where you guess his natural hair color must be a dark brown, given the color of his eyebrows.

while he’s not the tallest guy you’ve seen here so far, he still sticks out above you, his long legs and lean physique doing enough to make him appear quite tall. he wears a lazy smirk like it’s his default expression, and you’ll give it to him — if he was trying to get your attention, it worked.

he leans against the wall, watching you exhale the smoke. “i don’t think i’ve seen you around. are you a first-year?”

“there’s thousands of people attending here. of course you haven’t seen me before.”

“how straightforward of you.”

“do you prefer small talk?”

the corner of his lips curl up. “i don’t. my question still stands, though.”

“i’m in my third year. just transferred.”

“well, i guess you fit right in. this is the place where i always come to get away from everyone else.”

“is this your way of telling me i gotta go elsewhere next time?”

“took the words right out of my mouth.” the chuckle he lets out sounds low and relaxed. “no, you can come here and join me whenever you want. only if you’re good company, of course.”

you finally take the bait of engaging in the conversation with him and roll your eyes. “sorry to disappoint.”

“i doubt you’d disappoint me.”

“oh, please. you don’t even know me.”

“i do now.” jesus christ — does he always talk like that? like he knows more than you do? “but, if you want me to get to know you, you should tell me your name.”

his gaze becomes surprisingly intense in the blink of an eye, and something suddenly weighs down your body like feet glued to the floor. “i’d love to stay and chat, but i have a class to get to. i’m sure i’ll see you around, though.”

he hums in a bit of a smug way, as if he can look directly into your thoughts and see what you’re thinking. you feel his eyes burning in your back as you walk away from him, into the building, and you force yourself to regain your composure.

several hours later, just in time for dinner, you get back to the house, utterly drained.

the living room has dark walls with a few shiny brown bookcases that reach the ceiling, a comfortable sofa and several other chairs. if anything, the house is styled with rich, darker colors, creating a moody atmosphere, especially at night with the dim lighting.

your mother calls out to you once she notices you standing there. “honey, come here and introduce yourself, will you?”

she’s standing next to her fiancé, but there’s another person with them, whose back is facing you — and you suddenly spot the color of his hair.

when he turns around to face you, it feels as if the air is knocked out of your lungs.

you can’t be serious.

it’s so ridiculously cliché that part of you wants to laugh. what the fuck are the odds of the guy you met earlier today becoming your stepbrother?

though judging by the way his face falls, he was just as unaware of your identity as you were of his. not for long, of course — that damned grin is back on his face in seconds.

he takes a few steps over to you, extending his hand to formally introduce himself, as if you didn’t meet hours before. “i’m jeonghan.”

you stare at him with a deep frown but play along nonetheless, so you shake his hand, curtly saying your own name in response. he repeats it to himself with a softer voice than before, and you hate that you like the way your name sounds when he says it.

then you look down, realizing he’s still holding your hand, and you almost push him away, trying to act like his presence doesn’t affect you in any way whatsoever.

dinner goes by achingly slowly. your mother is being all social and just so damn eager to get to know her future stepson, asking him questions, clearly taking a liking towards him.

jeonghan tells her all kinds of stories, making sure to infuse his words with all the charm he’s probably got in that frail body of his. as you watch from the sidelines, you can tell he knows exactly what she’d like him to be, and he plays the role wonderfully.

well-mannered, friendly, charming, intelligent. he gives your mother subtle yet sickeningly sweet compliments and she just eats it all up.

every now and then, he glances at you, even shamelessly eyeing your chest up and down.

you hate that you’re still intrigued by him.

he asks you questions as well — small talk, of course. probably just for show. your answers are shorter than necessary, and he quickly notices you don’t feel like talking at all.

once dessert is over, you excuse yourself, saying you still have some work to do for tomorrow, and you exit the room immediately to ensure your mother isn’t able to protest.

the sound of footsteps behind you makes you quicken your pace up the stairs.

as you’re walking down the hall, heading to your room, his familiar voice pops up from behind you. “you should’ve just told me your name.”

of course he’s the one going after you.

you scoff at him. “wouldn’t have changed anything.”

jeonghan has his hands sitting in his pockets when he steps towards you. “you would’ve known who i was.”

“did you know who i was?”

“i didn’t, actually. when my dad told me i’d be getting a sister, i didn’t know what to expect.”

“sister?” the way you say it makes it sound like an insult. perhaps it is in this case. “we’re just strangers. nothing more than that.”

oh, jeonghan already likes you much more than he anticipated. there’s a certain sharpness to every single thing that comes out of your mouth ― you’re surprisingly cold. he wonders if you do it on purpose.

“such hostility.” he remarks, enjoying the fact that he’s standing so close to you.

“maybe i just don’t like you.”

“maybe. but you’re not all that talkative with my dad either, nor do you seem to plan on it.”

“so?”

“so, for someone who voluntarily came with her mom to live with complete strangers, you don’t come across as willing to bond with anyone. unless that’s not what you’re here for, of course.”

“what are you saying?”

“you’re a smart girl. if you already built a life for yourself in another place, why come here? you don’t seem ecstatic to be part of a new family.”

“i wanted the change.”

“did you?”

“yes. what does it matter?”

jeonghan won’t outright tell you he finds it strange you get so hostile when asked about your reasons for coming here. “i’m just curious.”

“has anyone ever told you it’s impolite to poke your nose into other people’s business?”

“if you’re going to hide something, at least come up with a better lie.”

waiting for you to respond, he resists the urge to bite his lip, and the two of you stare at each other for a moment, a palpable tension rising between you.

“look, i’m not hiding anything. i’m happy for my mom that she found someone she loves, but as for everything else that comes with it, you couldn’t pay me to care. so i suggest you go and play with someone who does.”

truth be told, you do sound convincing, but then he catches you eyeing his body, and he makes up his mind just like that.

the only person jeonghan wants to play with right now is you, and he’s not one to give up easily.

his voice is all sultry when he bids you goodnight. “good luck studying, sweetheart. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

as he walks away, you grab the handle of your door, but you still look at him going back down the hall, and you find yourself wondering what his room looks like, what he thinks of you ― and perhaps more importantly, what it is he’s planning.

II. BEWARE OF YOUR BROTHER

“hey. jeonghan. d’you know her?”

joshua points to the other side of the hall, at which his best friend curiously looks in said direction, only to find you standing there, typing away at your phone while looking as bored as ever.

“why?” jeonghan asks, curious as to why joshua would ask for you, since he hasn’t yet mentioned the news of his dad’s fiancée having a daughter.

“i bumped into her last week, on monday. she’s new. i introduced myself to her but didn’t get her name ‘cause she was running late for a lecture.”

well, that’s unexpected.

of course you met both him and his best friend on the same day. fate has such a way of bringing people together, it’s laughable.

jeonghan just gestures for his friend to follow him, and the two of them walk over to you, after which he greets you. “hey, sis.”

you look up at him with pure annoyance. “i told you to stop calling me that.”

“i told you i wasn’t planning on it.” he retorts with one corner of his mouth curled upwards ― he reminds you of the cheshire cat.

joshua watches the interaction with a deep frown set into his forehead. “am i missing something here?”

“the woman my dad is marrying has a daughter. daughter being her.”

the younger of the two looks wildly surprised as he processes it. “you’re gonna be his stepsister?”

“so he likes to remind me, yes.” you answer, vaguely recognizing him. “wait, didn’t i meet you last week?”

“you did, yeah. though i didn’t catch your name.”

jeonghan watches as joshua’s tone becomes even sweeter than it already is, his smile only growing bigger once you’ve given him your name.

oh.

oh, no.

the discovery that joshua thinks you’re cute flips a switch in him. you are cute, don’t get him wrong, but he doesn’t like that his friend is looking at you that way.

“well, i gotta go to class. it was nice seeing you again, though, joshua.” you smile, proceeding to shoot your future stepbrother a glare, and he’ll take any attention you give him.

as soon as you’re out of earshot, joshua hits his shoulder. “why the hell didn’t you tell me this sooner? is she living with you?”

“well, i had other priorities. and yes, she is.”

“i can’t believe she’s gonna be your sister. what’s she like? she doesn’t seem to wanna be around you all that much.”

“she’s distant. keeps to herself a lot.”

“so she’s awfully similar to you, then.”

similar to him? he doubts you are.

jeonghan averts his gaze to the courtyard, absentmindedly replying, “i suppose she is.”

a few days later, your mother’s scheduled an appointment for both you and jeonghan at a clothing store in the city to get your measurements taken for the wedding.

which is why jeonghan finds himself standing outside the classroom you’re currently having a lecture in. his class ended about fifteen minutes earlier than anticipated, so he figured he could just wait for you here, since you’d agreed to go to the store together and meet your mom there.

once your class is finished, the door opens, and a huge number of students walks out of the hall, passing him by. to his surprise, though, he hasn’t been able to spot you yet.

when it seems the last students have left, he frowns to himself. just for good measure, he peeks inside the lecture hall to check if anyone’s still inside.

the hall is almost completely empty, save for you and some other girl who’s talking to you.

but there’s something off about the conversation you’re having, because it doesn’t seem like you and her are friends ― matter of fact, you look colder than ever, and he feels the harshness of your glare even when it’s not directed at him.

but then you look his way, and he realizes he spoke too soon, because you certainly don’t seem to be softening up the slightest bit.

you abruptly walk down the stairs, moving right out of the lecture hall, blatantly ignoring him as if he’s not even there.

he turns around and follows you with a chuckle. “trouble in paradise?”

“why do you care?”

“well, i like a bit of drama.”

“i’m sure you do.”

“seriously though — you’ve been here for two weeks now and already made enemies? going for a new record?”

“why the hell were you even outside my classroom? we were supposed to meet by the entrance at the ground floor.”

“my class ended early. and you’re dodging the question.”

finally stopping in your tracks, you stare at him. that cockiness in his attitude is really starting to get on your nerves.

so you grab his arm, and he looks pleasantly surprised at the way you grab him, pulling him around the corner, away from the crowded corridor.

but then jeonghan suddenly finds himself backed into a corner ― no one has ever backed him into a corner. “what are you doing?”

your fingers glide across his double-breasted blazer, and you have such a tight hold on the fabric that it almost knocks the air out of his lungs.

the expression painted on your face is unreadable to him. cold, perhaps a bit smug, but not sharp.

“you know, i’m starting to think you have a thing for me. being unnecessarily nosy about my reasons for coming here, now listening in on my conversations… i don’t like being put under a loupe,” you shrug, “i’d prefer it if you stayed away from my private life.”

“your private life? we live in the same house.”

“we do. but the thing is ― i’ve seen what you do. observing from the sidelines, watching everyone and everything. you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

he tilts his head. this is a challenge he’s never had before, and it actually excites him in a way. because who the fuck is this girl who’s onto him and his ways?

“is being observant a bad thing?”

“not with other people, no. with me, it is.”

“you sound self-serving.”

“i am self-serving. i’m also mean, condescending, maybe even a bitch. the only reason i’m tolerating your presence is because i have to.”

jeonghan finds your self-awareness admirable. he doesn’t move from his spot by the wall you’ve pushed him against, but he does lean his face a bit closer to yours. “see, that’s the thing, sis. you don’t have to, just like you didn’t have to move here.”

fuck. he’s got you there, and it causes you to get hostile towards him again. “stay out of my private life, jeonghan.”

“or what? afraid i’ll find something interesting?”

“we may be family now, but that doesn’t mean you can bother me as you please. everyone has secrets ― either you respect mine, or you don’t. i’m not as friendly when people pry into business that clearly isn’t theirs.”

the smug smile you have on your face is borderline provoking. it almost makes him want to pry into your business. something about the way you look at him and touch him just riles him up like nothing else.

he mirrors your expression. “are you threatening me?”

“consider it a piece of advice. it’s all your choice.” you shrug indifferently, and you shoot him a fake smile before backing away from him, heading down the hall by yourself, and jeonghan huffs, leaning his head back against the wall.

well, so much for bonding with you. he’ll admit that perhaps he’s been a bit too persistent in his teasing ― for all he knows, you could’ve been deeply unhappy back home. he should probably hold back on pushing you about your past for now. maybe you’ll even start liking him at some point. even if you haven’t shown much interest in him, he certainly finds you interesting, and he’d like to become closer with you.

and besides, he’s not one to back down from a challenge.

the ride to the store is completely silent. neither of you bother to say a word to each other, and upon your arrival, your mother happily greets you both, pushing you inside the luxurious shop. an employee smiles at you, handing you all a glass of champagne.

it’s a little early in the day, but fuck it. calming your nerves a bit would do you good.

while jeonghan gets his measurements taken, your mother tells you to pick out a few dresses you like, mainly to see what style of dress you’d like to wear to the wedding. once you’ve decided on something, you’ll be getting one custom-made, tailored to your body, all courtesy of jeonghan’s father.

eventually, once they’re done with jeonghan ― since he’s wearing a simple suit to the wedding ― he plops down on one of the soft, velvet chairs, scrolling through his phone, only putting it down when he hears you stepping out of the changing room to show the piece you’ve put on.

by the time you’re changing into your fourth dress, your mother mentions she’ll just quickly head into the bathroom, and once she’s gone, he hears you call out from inside the changing room. “mom! can you zip me up? i think it might be stuck halfway.”

he doesn’t hesitate to walk up to you, pushing the curtain to the side, but it’s only when you notice it’s him doing it that you jump in your spot.

“what the hell are you doing?” you ask with furrowed brows, and he motions for you to turn around.

“your mom went to the bathroom, so the only one currently around to fix your zipper is me.”

you scoff. “well, aren’t i lucky.”

jeonghan tells himself not to focus on your deep cleavage, so he looks down to where his hands are.

as he gently tries to get the zipper to move, since a piece of fabric seems stuck in it, he bites his lip. “i thought about what you said, and i… i think we may have started off on the wrong foot. i’ve been pestering you for… no real reason. sorry about that.”

you’re certainly surprised by the change in approach — but you’re not exactly trusting. “does this mean you’ll stop asking about it?”

“yeah, i will. promise.”

“okay. in that case, i should apologize for being a little too hostile. when something upsets me, i get mean. sorry.”

he lets out a low chuckle, finally managing to separate the fabric from the zipper. “don’t worry. i can handle a mean girl.”

his hand pushes your hair over your shoulder to avoid getting it caught before slowly zipping you up, and the sensation of his cold fingers brushing past your warm skin makes you shiver.

“turn around.” he says, and you raise your hands, not expecting him to compliment you, but jeonghan appears to be full of surprises. “this color looks pretty on you.”

with a raised brow, you say, “don’t push it.”

he laughs at your response, “i’m serious. really, you do. aren’t i supposed to be your overly honest brother?”

unfortunately, he is.

so you cross your arms. “what’d you think of the other dresses?”

“that second one was terrible. you still looked gorgeous, though.”

the comment comes so unexpected that it renders you speechless for a moment, which makes him smirk in satisfaction again.

when the curtain suddenly whips open behind him, you both turn to your mother, who appears ecstatic to hear her ever-so-charming future stepson is being so helpful to her daughter already.

which makes jeonghan figure she must’ve missed the way he’s been eyeing your curves in every single dress you’ve shown so far, just as she’s been missing how your cheeks heat up when you catch him staring at you with that glass of champagne still sitting in his hand.

it’s all you’re able to think about during the ride home, and the rest of the evening.

the house is huge, yet it feels empty when jeonghan isn’t home. he left to go meet up with some friends for dinner after you were done at the store, and you find yourself restless over the things he said today.

you have difficulty trusting people, and you probably shouldn’t trust a guy like him, yet a part of you wants to ― badly, for whatever reason.

it’s the middle of the night when you reach for your bathroom cabinet to get some aspirin, and you come to the realization that you forgot to buy a new pack, so your only option is to either suck it up or head down to the kitchen.

in a white tank top and loose-fitted sweatpants, you quietly make your way down the stairs, huffing when you see all the different cabinets you’re still not used to. it takes you a few minutes of searching until you stumble upon the drawer with medicine, and you take the new pack to smuggle it to your own room.

“what’re you doing?”

the voice behind you popping out of nowhere nearly gives you a heart attack. “jesus fucking christ―can you stop?”

“stop what? i just walked in.” jeonghan replies in the same tone, grabbing your lower arms as if to make sure you remain standing. “i thought you’d be asleep, not ransacking a kitchen drawer.”

“i was supposed to be asleep, but i got a headache. obviously.”

he watches you gesture to the strip of aspirin on the counter and lets out a noise of understanding. “want me to make you a cup of tea? it might help you sleep.”

if you weren’t so tired already, you’d let him, but you shake your head. “no, it’s fine. thanks for offering though. you had a fun night?”

“yeah. maybe you should come with next time. i’m sure my friends would like you.” he almost makes the mistake of mentioning joshua asked for you, remembering to keep that to himself.

there’s something you’re dying to ask him, and you decide to just do it, since he’s standing in front of you anyways.

“are you being this nice to me ‘cause you like me or just for the sake of your father’s marriage?”

he doesn’t reply right away, grabbing a bottle of juice from the fridge first. “my father’s been in serious relationships with other women before. i never cared much for them or their families. does that answer your question?”

“somewhat.”

“you don’t sound convinced.”

“that’s ‘cause you’re not convincing.”

jeonghan’s buttons are easily pushed, at times. you like pushing him.

he smiles to himself, averting his gaze for a moment, only looking back at you once he’s significantly closed the distance between your bodies. “i like you. a lot, actually, even though you’ve mostly just been cussing me out.”

“which you probably deserved.”

“i guess so.” he hums playfully, and you mimic his mannerisms, nearly skipping over the fact that this is the closest you’ve stood to him since meeting each other.

part of you wants him to be even closer.

then his gaze moves down, and you follow it.

even though the top you’re wearing isn’t see-through, its fabric is thin, and you didn’t put on a bra before leaving your room because you didn’t expect you’d be running into anyone, especially not him.

as soon as you realize he’s looking at your breasts, you cover your chest, immediately scolding him. “oh my god, you’re such a pervert.”

of course, he’s hardly impressed, not appearing to care in the slightest that you caught him staring. “cussing me out again? really?”

“i’m heading up to my room. don’t even think about following me.”

“well, shoot. there go my plans for the night.” he remarks, grinning at you. “sleep tight, sis.”

“yeah, whatever. night, hannie.”

hannie. that’s cute. he doesn’t think you’ve ever called him that before.

once you’re gone from his field of view, he bites his lower lip, unable to wipe that damn expression off his face as he thinks of you.

he can’t get enough.

III. WHO IS NOT WITHOUT SIN?

despite being an adult, your mother’s authority still has a hold on you sometimes.

which is why instead of being in bed all morning like you’d planned, you’re currently in a grand church, seated on a bench in the back of the spacious hall with jeonghan next to you.

your parents were adamant on sitting near the front, but when you were walking into the hall just ten minutes ago, it was jeonghan who quickly grabbed you by your arm so that you and him could sit in the back together, and you’re honestly thankful for it.

it’s only been a few weeks since he told you he’d stop bothering you with questions about your past and start being nice to you, and so far, he’s kept his promise.

you wouldn’t say you fully trust him yet, but you definitely are growing fond of him. he’s been showing you around the city, taking you out to lunch, studying with you in the library at university, and it’d be a lie to say you haven’t enjoyed every second of it.

physical touch is clearly a habit of his with people he’s close to — joshua, his father on occasion, as well as some of his other friends he’s introduced you to.

for some reason, you’re always hyper-aware when someone touches you, and you have to admit, he does a great job at easing into the physical contact. it started with some simple touches on your shoulders and upper arms, slowly but smoothly continuing, allowing his hands to sit on your waist and lower back.

and he enjoys the dynamic he has going on with you. it’s mostly lots of sarcastic comments, teasing and joking around, but there’s moments where you just quietly appreciate the other’s presence.

with a sigh, you don’t know if you’re talking to yourself, or him. “i have no idea what i’m doing here. i’m not even catholic. pretty sure my mom isn’t, either.”

“no? not a fan of monotonous singing in a cold hall on sunday mornings?”

a scoff escapes you, followed by a sarcastic quip. “such a way with words, brother dearest.”

jeonghan shrugs, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. “maybe you should pretend to be sick next time our parents want us to tag along. i’ll have no other option but to stay home and take care of you.”

is it so wrong of him to want you all to himself?

“creative.” you mutter with a grin, simultaneously hiding the effect his words have on your body.

he only gives you that mischievous smile, looking at you from the corner of his eye, and you can’t resist the soft chuckles escaping you.

not much later, he’s sitting closer to you, using it as an excuse to whisper in your ear. “me and my dad aren’t catholic either. i’m guessing it’s just about appearances.”

“of course,” you roll your eyes, “maybe they wanna get married here and this is their way of checking it out.”

jeonghan, very selfishly, doesn’t want to think about his father and your mother getting married. he just smiles at you as a way to conceal his true feelings, and all he can think about is that he should’ve met you first, that you should’ve been his.

so he averts his gaze, attempting to focus on whatever the pastor is saying, hoping it’ll take his mind off it.

the preaching is grim and anything but welcoming. words like hell and damnation are thrown around numerous times in a speech that feels almost like it’s spoken in a foreign language, and he hates it — he hates being here.

but perhaps not as much as you do.

“we must and will all pay for our sins, one way or another—” the pastor’s voice rings through your ears. his words keep replaying in your head, and it begins to make you feel dizzy, heavy existential suffering overtaking your chest, like a loud scream being pushed down but fighting to work its way up your throat.

you have to stop thinking about it.

you have to let it go.

jeonghan takes notice of your change in body language. where you were previously hardly moving a muscle, your breathing has become irregular, chest rising and falling more visibly, and you’re digging your nails into the skin of your thigh.

what he’d do to know what’s going on in that head of yours.

he puts his hand just above your knee to comfort you, and when you look up at him with almost disturbed eyes, all you find in his gaze is — understanding.

jeonghan doesn’t know what it is you’re hiding from him, but he figures you must’ve done something wrong in your past, if this is your reaction to the speech currently being given.

but he’s done wrong too.

his palm is still resting comfortably on your bare skin, and your shaky hand reaches out for his instinctively; it feels so right. instead of letting you put your hand on top of his, he raises it to hold yours, intertwining your fingers.

when you look at him with the corners of your mouth downturned and eyes glossy, your hand clenching his like you need it as much as you need to breathe, he chooses not to give a damn whether your parents choose to get married or not.

he’ll be there for you when you need it — he’ll make you his.

the mass is over before you know it, and as you’ve just walked out of the church, you spot your mother excitedly chatting away with her fiancé, not paying you any mind.

jeonghan catches up with you and gently puts his hand on your lower back. “are you okay?”

blinking a few times, you nod, trying to sound more cheerful than you are. “yeah. it was just… getting to me, is all. i don’t know why.”

but even you know the excuse is not gonna fly with him. he knows you’re hiding something — but he refuses to press you any more than he already has. “i want you to know that… you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. but i’m here for you, okay? i want you to be happy.”

god, you could actually cry.

the words affect you, and you move to hug him, which he embraces like his life depends on it. “thanks, hannie.”

“anytime, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his heart racing when he realizes this is the first time you’ve hugged him like this, and that’s special to him.

the two of you hold one another for a little longer until you release him, and you loop your arm through his. “i’m drained after hearing that speech. wanna go get coffee?”

“you read my mind.”

leaving your parents behind, jeonghan takes you with him, hoping to spend the rest of his day with you.

the café you’ve just arrived at is relatively small, with a few people seated on the terrace outside and an older couple inside. jeonghan urges you to sit down at one of the tables and relax ― he figures you might like that after getting upset in the church.

with your go-to order already in mind, he goes up to the counter to order for both of you, and you’re staring at the people passing by on the sidewalk until a high-pitched shriek pulls you out of it.

“jeonghan? oh my god! it’s been so long, how are you?” the girl at the counter says cheerfully to him, and he’s pretty sure she would’ve pulled him in for a hug if it weren’t for the counter separating them. “i almost didn’t recognize you with the red hair! suits you, though.”

he gives her a polite smile in return. “i wanted the change, i guess.”

“what can i get you?”

“a regular cappuccino and a decaf, please.”

“oh, you got company?”

“girl by the window.”

her expression falters a bit. “is she your date?”

a question he’d prefer not to answer, really. she doesn’t need to know you’re the stepsister he has a massive crush on, so he just gives a vague answer like he always does. “something like that.”

she seems intrigued but refrains from asking any further questions. “alright. you got a stamp card?”

about three minutes later, he puts two cups of coffee on your table, sitting down across from you.

“thanks.” you mention, and jeonghan notices just a slight difference in your behavior. “the barista, is she a friend?”

jeonghan puts two and two together ― or so he thinks ― before taking a first tentative sip of his coffee. “her name’s bitna. we went to high school together.”

“oh, i know her name. she’s in my class, unfortunately.” you mumble mostly to yourself, but he hears it, gesturing for you to tell him more. “you remember when you saw me arguing with a girl before we went to the store a while back? it’s her i was arguing with.”

that raises questions in him. “what was she bothering you for?”

“fuck if i know. she was pressuring me about my reason for transferring, i just… i don’t know.”

“if she bothers you again, just come to me. i’ll deal with her.”

“well, contrary to how she spoke to me, she seemed pretty excited to see you.”

“well, this was our first time seeing each other in two or three years. but she’s always been… expressive.”

“ah.” you hum, averting your gaze when you take your cup, secretly cheering that she’s not some girl he’s seeing. when he taps his fingers on the surface, you watch him leaning forward over the small, wooden table.

“not jealous, are you, sis?” he asks you with a brief quirk of his brow, and you shrug.

“what should i be jealous of?”

“you? nothing. ‘cause you already have me,” he drawls, “from what a friend told me, bitna liked me when we were still in school together, but i highly doubt she still does. i mean, it’s been years.”

“you didn’t like her back?”

“nope. not my type.”

“so what is your type?”

a few strands of his dark red hair dangle before his eyelids when he looks up at you from under his brows. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’ve ever been in love.” but maybe he is now.

even though he doesn’t say the last part out loud, it’s like you can still hear it, and the way he looks at you ― god, has anyone ever looked at you like that?

the silent eye contact speaks volumes, and he moves to stick out his index finger, pointing at your cup. “i think your coffee might be getting a bit cold.”

rolling your eyes at his attempt of taking your attention off him, he just chuckles, and while you and him enjoy each other’s company, you fail to notice how the barista has barely taken her eyes off the two of you since jeonghan sat down.

two weeks pass by, and as your mother’s wedding approaches, you try to ignore the growing feelings for your stepbrother.

you thought it’d go away if you repressed it as much as you could.

which was a big mistake to think. huge.

the relationship you have with jeonghan becomes more complicated by the day. people around you, especially your parents, encourage you and him to bond like a brother and sister would, they even seem to act like you are related in that way — even though you most certainly aren’t — but whenever you’re alone with him, it’s completely different.

every touch you give each other feels more intimate, every kiss he presses to your cheek gets closer to your lips. with every passing day, the boundaries of what should be a familial connection get pushed further, the lines blurring.

and it, frankly, drives you insane.

jeonghan hasn’t directly expressed how he feels about you ― not that you have either, for that matter ― but the way he acts around you and talks to you feels like he’s definitely insinuating it, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep it up.

but you have to, because he can’t be anything but a brother to you.

is it really that selfish of you to just want to have him kiss you? just once?

“honey, it’d be great if you could focus on standing still and upright.” your mother’s stern voice suddenly rings through your ears, shaking you awake from your thoughts.

“right. sorry.” you mutter, glancing at the dressing mirror in front of you. on your bare feet, you’re standing on a small, round display platform so the two assistants of the designer can perfectly see whether the dress you’re gonna be wearing to the wedding fits well and if it needs any adjustments.

the dark navy satin dress just about reaches your knees, and you have to admit ― you feel very pretty in it.

“the waist just needs to be stitched a bit tighter; it’ll enhance her features more.”

“i agree. we could also adjust the straps a bit.”

the assistants converse with your mother about their thoughts, and they follow her out of the living room not much later, leaving you in the same spot, admiring how the dress hugs your curves in the mirror since you’re by yourself anyways ― though not for long.

jeonghan, who’s just arrived home, peeks around the corner, and he leans against the doorframe to gaze at you, even if you’ve already spotted him.

“that dress is gorgeous on you.”

turning around to look at him, you smile at the compliment. “you think?”

he nods, taking a few steps over to you. “i do. looks like the bottom is a bit twisted, though.”

then you face forward again, to the mirror in front of you, and you watch as he’s standing behind you, feeling him tug at the fabric a little as he fixes the back of your dress.

goosebumps erupt on your arms when he suddenly touches your skin. the way his fingers slide from above the knee to your upper thigh is slow, and his voice is a lot closer to you than before.

“how does that feel?” he whispers, lips brushing past your ear, and you make eye contact with him in the mirror, your back pressed against his front.

you have to force yourself not to squeeze your legs together to give yourself some friction. the way he teases you has you aching to be touched. “feels… good.”

ironically, he needs to force himself to have self-restraint more than you do right now. he wants nothing more than to just rip that fabric off your body and get on his knees to taste you, but he can’t. he shouldn’t.

you’re the forbidden fruit, after all.

“i’ve thought about doing this since the day i met you. wrong of me, right?” he rasps, the cold metal of the silver ring sitting around his index finger causing you to shiver.

“yeah—you shouldn’t.” you tell him, yet you grab his arm and lean into his touch, allowing him to roam your body.

if anything, the way you give in to him like this only gets him hotter. “where do you want me to touch you?”

“hannie…”

the nickname has him inhaling sharply, “answer me.”

swallowing, you give him what he wants. “higher.”

your wish is his command — so he moves his fingers up higher, towards your underwear, and you let out a soft gasp, which nearly has him moaning in your ear.

then he rubs over your clothed pussy, and when you lean your head back, on his shoulder, he presses kisses all over your neck and cheek.

with a low voice, he whispers, “you’d let me have you right here, right now? when anyone could walk in?”

when you hum in response, he wonders how the hell he managed to come across a girl this perfect.

he pushes your underwear to the side and watches your lips part as he slides two of his fingers into you.

feeling you squeeze around his fingers makes him ridiculously hard in his jeans. “that’s it, pretty girl. relax for me.”

the gasps leaving your mouth are hot and erotic. hearing his breathing get louder and uneven turns you on even more, and you can only imagine the idea of having his cock inside you instead of his fingers — god, what you’d do to have him in your bed.

his eyes remain on your face. he thinks you just look so fucking pretty when your eyes roll back in pleasure, and it makes him want to drop everyone and everything just to be able to keep watching you like this.

right when he’s about to add another finger, you hear your mother’s voice approaching again, and jeonghan steps away from you, hiding his hands behind his back.

your mother looks surprised at the sight of her stepson standing near you but forgets about it once she notices your red cheeks.

“everything okay, honey? you look like you’re burning up.”

all you can do is stumble out an excuse. “yeah, i’m fine. just, uh… is it warm in here? it’s warm in here.”

she only raises a brow but continues talking to the assistants about the changes to your dress, and jeonghan subtly backs away from you, shooting you a satisfied grin.

it’s hard not to catch the smirk on his face when he leaves the room, sucking the taste of you from his wet fingers once no one but you is looking at him.

when he’s actually gone, you realize what just happened — he didn’t just make a move, he actually went as far as to touch you.

fuck.

IV. SUCCUMB TO YOUR GREED

much to your frustration, you’ve hardly seen jeonghan since he stuck his fingers in you.

he went on a trip to the other side of the country for one of his courses, which took four days, and he only got back from said trip last week. while you’ve seen him around at certain moments since his return, it’s only been briefly or when your parents were in the room.

so, to put it shortly, you pretty much haven’t talked about it.

if anything, nothing has changed in his behavior towards you. he’s still as smug and sarcastic as ever — you’d think nothing happened.

reality begins to kick in when your parents announce they’ll be getting married in a mere two weeks, and the smile you have on your face is so utterly fake that it almost hurts.

all you can think of is how much you want him to yourself.

later that night, when your parents have gone to bed, you head into the kitchen for a snack, and jeonghan stands there, downing a glass of alcohol, it seems.

he lazily eyes you as you come up to him, and you turn the bottle to read the label. “whiskey? pretty sure you shouldn’t be drinking that like you’re doing a shot of vodka.”

“i know. if i’m drinking like this, it’s to get drunk. or at least tipsy.”

“by yourself? at home? you’re not secretly an alcoholic, are you?”

he rolls his eyes with a huff, pinching at your skin, at which you laugh and push him away. “no, i’m not. just wanna stop my mind from racing.”

“is something bothering you?”

he can’t stand how pretty you look, even in the darkness of the kitchen.

“yes.”

“wanna talk about it?”

“no.” he responds, and he swears he finds something of disappointment in your features.

his sweet girl ― how could he not give in?

the glass hits the countertop with a clink when he puts it away. jeonghan moves in to kiss you with full force, his hand behind your head to make sure it doesn’t hurt when your back hits the fridge.

what kills him is that you immediately kiss him back, because this is all he wants. you.

when he pulls away, his lips are swollen and tainted with your lip balm. your hands are on the back of his neck, and he has his one hand on the side of yours, thumb sitting underneath your jaw.

your heavy breathing matches his, and you lean in to kiss him again, but he hesitantly stops you — as if he needs to restrain both of you from letting this get out of hand.

“i’m sorry.” he has to push the words out, letting go of you, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and its matching glass before disappearing from the kitchen.

in disbelief of what just happened, you can only blink, dumbfounded.

the kiss is all you can think about whenever you see him the following days. despite everything that’s happened between you when you were alone, neither of you has brought it up, nor has your behavior towards each other changed in any way.

perhaps it’s the lavish wedding your mother’s so busy with that you can barely even think about it properly. the two weeks pass by so fast that you begin to process it on the day of the event itself, and just like that, you’re standing beside jeonghan by the church’s altar, watching with a blank stare as his father says the vows you couldn’t care less about.

what you do care about, though, is how criminally dashing your stepbrother looks in his suit, which matches with your dress. you can’t help yourself, glancing at him from the corner of your eye every now and then, and when he momentarily shifts his weight from one leg to the other, he purposefully brushes past your leg.

as your parents walk down the aisle together after being pronounced husband and wife, everyone’s attention being on them, jeonghan leans down to whisper in your ear, “we’re officially brother and sister now.”

“lucky me.”

he plays with your earring for a moment until you swat his hand away. “oh, don’t act as if you don’t like me.”

“i find you highly annoying, actually.”

“whatever makes you sleep at night, pretty girl.”

he’s given you so many compliments at this point that you’re able to hide the redness of your cheeks, but it still makes you feel like a schoolgirl getting praised by her crush on the inside.

all you can do is ache for him. have you ever pined for someone like this? you doubt it.

the wedding and everything that comes with it goes by smoothly, just as planned — except for your own agenda.

maybe it was selfish of you to hope that jeonghan would touch you again during the night of the wedding.

but he still hasn’t. and it’s starting to piss you off. first he nearly has sex with you, then radio silence, then he kisses you, followed by radio silence again — and you’re planning to find out just how far you need to go to make him cave.

it’s only a week later when the perfect opportunity arises, all courtesy of joshua.

would you consider yourself a party girl? once a month, maybe. you overall like to stay in more, but you welcome the occasional night of letting loose.

you very subtly mention the event to jeonghan on purpose. “are you also going to the party one of joshua’s friends is hosting tomorrow night? i forgot the guy’s name—”

“you’re going to mingyu’s party? with who?”

oh, you definitely detect that surprise in his tone. “just a few friends from class. they asked me if i wanted to come with, and joshua asked if i came as well, so… will i see you there?”

“maybe.” he answers with a furrowed brow, leaving the room, immediately texting mingyu about the details of the party, despite having declined the invitation two days prior because he wasn’t really feeling it.

and just like that, around eleven o’clock, he finds himself getting ready for the party, cursing himself for the way you make him act.

he hasn’t seen you since this afternoon, since you told him you’d go with one of your friends after class and get ready with her.

with his hair slicked back — save for a few strands hanging in front of his forehead — and a leather jacket thrown on, he heads out to mingyu’s place.

it’s the host of the party who comes up to greet him. “jeonghan! good to see you, i almost thought you weren’t coming.”

“i’m not planning on staying long. just wanted to say hi since life’s been busy recently.”

“i met your sister. she’s nice.” mingyu says, and it feels as if a switch flips in his head.

“yeah. where is she, by the way? i actually gotta talk to her about something.”

the taller of the two points to the kitchen. “i think she was getting herself a drink.”

“alright, thanks. i’ll talk to you later, yeah?” jeonghan says, giving mingyu a squeeze in his arm, which he reciprocates.

the party started about an hour and a half ago, the room already warm and reeking of alcohol and sweat.

when he enters the kitchen, he doesn’t see you anywhere at first — that is, until you turn around.

you look like a dream. perhaps even that’s an understatement.

a tight, black satin mini-dress with a sweet-heart neckline and a gold necklace sitting on top of your exposed collarbones. your makeup suits you perfectly — you look gorgeous.

what tops it all off is that sweet smile that rises to your face as soon as you recognize him.

“when did you get here, hannie?”

“i, um…” he looks you up and down once more, almost forgetting to answer you, “just now.”

you move in to give him a quick hug, and he has to hold back from letting his hands roam too low, sucking in a breath when you press your body against his even more than usual.

“wanna do a shot with me?”

“depends on how many you’ve had already.”

“only two. i’m a big girl, jeonghan. i don’t need my brother to take care of me.”

a funny statement, considering you’d actually like him to take care of you.

“it’s not you i’m worried about, baby.” he responds, mimicking your tone and attitude, which makes you grin.

you’ve shoved the tiny glass filled with vodka into his hand in the blink of an eye, and he clinks his glass with yours before downing the bitter liquid, feeling it burning in his throat.

“that was my only alcohol for the night. i drove here,” he informs you as he’s putting the glass on the counter, “you’re coming with me after this, right?”

you push your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you think of the best way to answer him. “well, it depends.”

the tension between you grows when he looks you in the eye. “depends on what?”

“don’t play dumb.”

he’s about to say something when he catches you briefly glancing at joshua, who’s absentmindedly checking his phone at the other side of the room.

oh, hell no.

“you’re kidding, right?” jeonghan scoffs, appalled at the idea of you landing in his best friend’s bed. “him, of all people?”

you’ve come to be so comfortable with him that you don’t mind being a little spiteful. “what? he’s cute.”

“i don’t care if he is,” he gets closer to you, his tone lower and sterner than before, “he’s my closest friend.”

“so? he doesn’t seem to mind that i’m your sister. besides, plenty of girls have a thing for being with their brother’s best friend, and vice versa. what’re you gonna do about it?”

jeonghan’s frustration suddenly dies down like a fire being put out, because he’s finally realizing what you’re doing, and his cockiness comes right back to his features. “you don’t even like him like that. you’re just trying to provoke me.”

well, shit. there goes plan a.

“no i’m not.”

“you definitely are.” he smirks gleefully, knowing damn well he’s right.

“i like joshua enough to let him give me a fun night.”

he has to dig his nails into the palm of his hand to stop himself from saying he’d give you a better one, but a part of him doesn’t think you’ll go as far as to go home with joshua.

“if you say so. have fun, sweetheart.”

“i will.” you tell him, leaving him by himself in the kitchen, and he rolls his eyes.

being at this party is slowly but steadily pissing him off. he can’t have fun or focus on anyone or anything else as long as you’re in this room, knowing you’re preparing to make use of joshua’s little crush on you. and to what end? to make him jealous?

he figures this, in a way, is the result of his own actions. he’s been sending mixed signals towards you about his feelings. the stunt he pulled at your dress fitting was uncharacteristically impulsive of him, as was that late-night kiss in the kitchen, and it’s not that he doesn’t want you like that ― it’s that he can’t.

or shouldn’t.

after two hours of unbearable small talk and several glasses of non-alcoholic beer, jeonghan decides he’s had enough. he will be taking you home tonight, one way or another.

from the other side of the room, he watches joshua lean closer to your face just to say something in your ear over the loud music — and he’s touchy. shua only gets touchy with those who are either friends, family, or people he wants to pursue.

a raw sense of possessiveness begins to swirl in his gut, the feeling of it reaching the tips of his fingers.

envy is a rare thing for jeonghan. usually, he’s the one people are envious of, as arrogant as that may sound. it’s not something he brags about, really.

but when he’s envious, he gets selfish. a little manipulative, even, if necessary to get what he wants.

so his legs move to get to you before joshua can do anything he doesn’t approve of, but then someone calls out his name.

“jeonghan? hey!”

he turns his head to find the last person he cares about right now. matter of fact, he really doesn’t want to talk to her, since she’s bothered you a while ago, yet out of good manners, he doesn’t show it, remaining somewhat friendly. “bitna. nice to see you again.”

the girl smiles a little too brightly at him for his liking. “are you in a hurry? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“no, i just… it’s nothing.”

while his head is spinning from sheer jealousy, he’s about to walk away from bitna when she speaks up again.

“i actually wanted to ask you something.” just the mere sound of her voice makes him press his lips together out of annoyance ― is it not obvious to her he has other matters to attend to?

“you do?”

“look, i, um… i’ve liked you for a while now, and i was just wondering if you wanted to… go out with me sometime?”

the confession falls on deaf ears, since jeonghan can only focus on the fact that his best friend is making a move on you across the room. “i’m—i’m sorry. i can’t really talk right now. see you later?”

bitna lets out a baffled scoff when he pushes past her to walk to the other side of the room, and she begins to get a faint idea of the reason behind his hasty behavior when she notices him approaching you and joshua, and she watches the interaction from afar like a hawk.

jeonghan runs a hand through his half-long hair and walks over to you, one hand on joshua’s shoulder and the other on your upper arm, as if greeting two friends.

“there you guys are. been looking all over for you.” he puts up a smile relatively naturally to appear convincing.

joshua, with a drink still in hand, looks a little bummed that his best friend had to come over to interrupt the conversation, but his fondness for him quickly returns.

“ready to go?” jeonghan turns his attention to you, and you have a hard time keeping your balance.

“already? i just got here, hannie!” you exclaim, your usual calm and quiet demeanor replaced by an outgoing and giggly one. he thinks it’s cute to see the effect alcohol has on you, though he doesn’t think you’re drunk, just very tipsy.

“i know, i’d prefer to stay too, but i promised your mom i’d get you home at a… somewhat reasonable hour. got the family gathering in the morning, remember?”

honestly, you can hardly even call it a gathering. you simply made the deal you’d be home to see your parents off before they go on their honeymoon, and it’s a perfect excuse to take you home now ― though you certainly could refuse him. if you wanted to.

but jeonghan knows better. you want only one person here, and it’s not joshua.

you let out an exaggerated huff. “fuck, i forgot.” but even in your less-than-sober state of mind, your infatuation for your stepbrother floods your senses, and you desperately want to be around him, ready to leave everyone and everything behind.

so you take a step towards him, nearly losing your balance, yet he catches you with ease. for someone appearing on the frail side, he’s actually a lot stronger than you’d think.

he puts his arm around your waist to ensure you don’t fall, and you happily wave at his best friend, who’s still standing beside you. “bye, shua.”

his friendly smile briefly returns to his face at your sweetness. “bye. drink some water when you get home, okay?”

you nod, walking out of the place with jeonghan’s arm still around you.

the road back home is quiet, and a bit of a blur to you, if you’re honest. he helped put your seatbelt on when you were struggling with the buckle and proceeded to force you to down an entire bottle of water, which you did with a pout.

with barely suppressed laughter, you and jeonghan walk up to the front door of the manor, and he has to constantly shush you to keep it down so your parents don’t wake up.

the house is completely quiet, save for the creaking of the chandelier above the stairs in the main hall. he guides you up until you finally make it to your room, where you let yourself fall onto the bed with a loud thud, eliciting a snort from him. “nope. to the bathroom you go.”

“ugh, to do what?”

“to drink some water, brush your teeth, et cetera. c’mon.”

“but ‘m so tired, hannie.”

“i know, baby. i’ll help you.” he coos, and your heart beats just a bit faster at the nickname.

so he helps you up and gets you to the bathroom, holding your jaw to brush your teeth. he’s awfully focused on the task, and you’re just staring at him the entire time, causing him to laugh.

“staring is rude.”

“maybe i am rude.”

he laughs again. “sure.”

you spit the toothpaste out in the sink and finally get some water in your system, and it feels like the sobering up of your senses is already happening.

it doesn’t make you act any less bold, though.

when he wants to say goodnight, you grab his arm. “wait—can you just—help me with one last thing?”

“what?”

“my dress. it’s so fucking tight that i barely got it on myself, my friend helped put it on. please?”

he looks down at the dress and back up at your face, and either you’re playing him to get him to undress you or you’re genuinely clueless.

but jeonghan tells himself he can do this. “turn around.” his voice is a bit lower than before, and you shiver at his tone before doing as he says.

the faint sound of the laces slowly being undone brings goosebumps to your skin, and you know it means he’s looking at the now visible clasp of the lacy black bra you’re wearing underneath the dress.

“were you hoping to impress someone with this tonight?” he somehow still manages to sound sweet despite the snark in his attitude. “joshua?”

it makes you look at him over your shoulder. “he’s cute. just… not really my type.”

he chuckles to himself, your back still facing him. “yeah, i could’ve told you that.”

you beat around the bush just for the sake of doing so. “why? how would you know what my type is?”

as he moves on to the laces covering your lower back, he pulls on them a little harder than before. “it’s unlike you to play the fool. especially with me.”

all you can do is scoff.

once he’s reached the last lace, he glances at your body for a moment before backing away from you. “change into some comfortable clothes and get some sleep, alright?”

with the dress still on, you turn around to face him again. “are you serious?”

“what?”

“you bring me home early as soon as your best friend is about to kiss me, and now you’re just not gonna act on your feelings? all of that for nothing?”

“not for nothing,” he says coolly, tilting his head, “i made sure joshua didn’t get to make his move on you.”

honestly, you’d be pissed off at him if you actually liked shua in that way. what does piss you off, though, is that he won’t make a move on you.

“i could always call him,” you suggest, though you wouldn’t act on it, but he doesn’t need to know that, “maybe he’ll give me what you won’t.”

but as always, jeonghan sounds unfazed. always the smartest guy in the room. “he’s too sweet for you. a good catholic kid. he probably wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

“like you would.”

“i think we both know the answer to that question.”

“oh, please. you barely even touched me.”

“true. but you must’ve enjoyed it, since you’re here, asking for more.”

“and what’s stopping you from giving me that?”

“we’re family now.”

“says the guy who calls me baby and kisses me on the lips,” you scoff, making it your mission to get him to give in.

so you shrug off the dress that was loosely clinging onto your body to drop it to the floor, and the second he lays eyes on the lacy lingerie, you know he’s practically done for.

“it’s simple. say you don’t want me, and i’ll let it go.”

there’s something charming about his brain short-cutting now that you’re standing in front of him like this, and you’re backing him into the corner so easily. “sweetheart―”

“have you thought about it, since you touched me? having me like this?” you interrupt teasingly, and when he doesn’t say anything, you can’t help but smile in realization. “oh my god, you have.”

he’s clearly doing his best to maintain the untouchable persona, but even you see the truth. “it doesn’t change anything.”

you want him to act out for once, see what’s underneath that exterior. something about him makes you want to be bold — yet completely you.

so you reach behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra, and he has to swallow to keep it together.

if anything, he’s a bit baffled. he didn’t expect you to undress right here, right now, in front of him. but you just do it, looking as confident as ever.

with two small steps forward, you put your hands on his chest to push him back on the chair behind him. his breath hitches, and he tries to hold you back, failing to sound convincing in the slightest. “we shouldn’t.”

“you touched me first. you started it.” you shrug, moving to sit in his lap, and he does his best to focus on anything but your bare chest.

“i know that, but… i can’t. regardless of how much i want to.” he breathes out while your hands move from his cheeks to the back of his neck.

“i wore this set for you, y’know. just like that dress. hell, why do you think i even went to that party?”

oh.

oh.

sure, he figured you messed with joshua on purpose to rile him up — but he didn’t think you’d planned the whole night like this.

it’s something he would do, and a certain sense of pride rushes through him.

he makes the mistake of looking down where your nearly naked body grinds against his clothed crotch, and it makes him sick.

because the feeling of it is so much better than it already was in his wet dream.

“if i fuck you now—” he inhales sharply with his hand trembling on your lower back, “it won’t end there. i’ll want you again, and again, and again.”

it’s the only reason he hasn’t given in fully yet, something he realized after touching you the way he did and nearly getting caught.

he likes you more than he’s ever liked anyone, you’re addictive to him, and he knows that once he crosses this line with you, it’s over for him. he’ll want nothing more than to be with you, to fuck you and love you and have you be his.

even more than he already does.

“did you think i wanted this to be a one-time thing?” you ask, putting your hands on his jaw. “fuck me, hannie. please.”

jeonghan takes one look at your eyes and decides to say goodbye to that last thread his honor was hanging onto.

your kiss is gentler than anticipated. perhaps it’s because this is the first time you both fully get to savor it, taste it ― it’s so sickeningly sweet that he almost forgets you’re practically naked on top of him, while he’s still fully clothed.

he shrugs his jacket off with ease, throwing it onto the floor, your lips on his again before he can comprehend it. his hands roam all over your body, his breathing speeding up as his kisses trail down your jaw, to your neck, the sensation of his tongue on the skin by your collarbone making you feel weak.

with your legs around him, he gets up from the chair and puts you down on your bed. “i didn’t get to make you cum last time, so i should probably finish that, right?”

“but i want―”

“i know what you want.” he cuts you off, removing his shirt, smirking to himself when you shamelessly stare at his abs. “i’ll give it to you, but i wanna taste you first.”

he gets on the mattress in just his jeans, the waistband of his underwear peeking out from the top of his pants, and you like the sight of his bare chest.

unlike his usual patient self, jeonghan refuses to waste any more time. the way he acts isn’t rushed, but he’s got a certain hunger clawing at his chest that’s fighting to get out ― and it only really wants one thing.

your hands quickly reach out to grab his dark red hair once he’s got his head between your legs, his fingers firmly clasped on your thighs. he’s greedy, mouth and nose buried in your wetness.

“fuck—jeonghan—”

it’s when he hums in satisfaction that your eyes roll back. you prop yourself onto your elbows to watch him run his tongue over your pussy, savoring the taste of you.

the sheer emptiness in your gut while you’re getting wetter by the second is driving you insane. you’re clenching around nothing, aching to be filled up, and he’s so mean for not doing so already.

his lips latch onto your clit, and you inhale sharply, your hold on his hair even harder than before, making him moan. he’s rubbing his clothed cock against the mattress while his hands and mouth are on your body, and he’s close to feeling fucking ecstasy.

when he comes back up for air, he’s breathing heavily, moving upwards to kiss your stomach. you take his wrists to bring his hands up to your breasts, and he’s almost hypnotized by your greed.

“fuck, hannie, ‘m so wet—just take me. please?” you beg, and he just can’t help it; he can’t refuse you.

he sits up on his knees to unbutton his jeans, fingers trembling in anticipation as he watches you glance at him.

shrugging off the last of his clothes, he reaches for the condom he’s got sitting in his wallet, rolling it on swiftly. he almost laughs at the way your eyes follow his every move.

“put your legs up.” he mutters, and you mindlessly follow his command, feeling the warm buds of his fingertips on your calves as he puts your legs over his shoulders.

jeonghan pushes into you slowly and gently, allowing you to adjust. you bite your lower lip with a soft grunt while your heat wraps around him.

your hands immediately reach for him, and he enjoys the feeling of your hands on his skin.

“i can’t believe you orchestrated this whole night. were you thinking about this when you nearly kissed my best friend?”

all you can do is let out a playful laugh. “would it be so terrible if i said i was?”

“a little. but i like terrible,” he shrugs casually, and you force yourself not to get caught up in the silver chain dangling above your face.

it’s then that you realize it’s a cross necklace.

the irony of it makes you chuckle, and jeonghan catches you staring at it, his eyes lighting up dauntingly.

“to think our parents got such a wonderful wedding in that church, and all i wanted was to fuck you right then and there,” his fingers dig into your thighs as he keeps his pace slow but deep, teasing you to no end, “i fucking knew you wanted me too. decided to make me jealous just to get me to fuck you — so dirty.”

“you’re the one fucking your sister—”

“says the girl who begged to be fucked by her brother,” he moves his hips harder, making you moan, “but don’t worry, baby. i don’t judge.”

he’s awfully cocky about the situation, which you do think is hot, but it also riles you up.

completely taken aback when you flip the two of you over, he’s suddenly got you sitting on top of him, and you’re shaking your head. “don’t start things you can’t finish, hannie.”

the lazy smirk he always sports falters when you slowly rock back and forth, his cock twitching inside you.

“fine. then you should finish it,” he mutters breathily, failing to come across as smug as usual, giving you full control to do whatever you want with him.

he hisses through gritted teeth when you clench around him, his hands finding their way to your hips.

“oh, fuck.” he grunts, briefly closing his eyes in pleasure, and you think it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. “you feel so fucking good, baby.”

as his breathing begins to quicken, he circles your clit with his thumb, causing you to shudder on top of him.

“shit! don’t—don’t do that, not yet—”

“i want you to cum around me. you can do that, right?” he urges you, feeling close to begging you simply because he wants to see your face and feel your body shake on him.

humming a response, you move your hips faster, trying to give him what he wants while simultaneously chasing your own high.

“oh my god, jeonghan—”

“that’s it, baby. doing so well for me.”

his praise is enough for you to hit your climax, your thighs trembling beside him, and the tightening of your muscles hits him to the point it makes him hit his peak as well.

once you’ve come down from it, he flips you over, going right at it again and again, until it’s deep into the night and you’re both spent.

your head lies comfortably on his chest, trailing his warm skin with your finger.

he’s softly stroking through your hair. “i can’t believe you did all of that. poor joshua became collateral damage.”

“you don’t sound like you care that much.”

“he’ll get over it.”

“you’re so mean.”

“hey, you took part in it too, sweetheart.”

“ugh, you’re right. you know, maybe i should go to the church. commit to the catholic confessions and all that.”

jeonghan scoffs. “what would you even say?”

you shrug, the sarcasm dripping from your words. “forgive me father, for i have sinned. i was at this party, and this guy who likes me was about to make a move on me, but i pretty much just left him by himself to go home with my evil stepbrother, who then proceeded to rail me into another dimension—”

“since when am i evil?”

“since the day i met you, if not long before.”

he laughs at the irony of it. “perhaps.”

V. FAMILY TREE

life is surprisingly good when you’re in a secret relationship, jeonghan finds.

whenever your parents are asleep, he quietly moves to your room, slipping under the covers to find you naked and wet and aching for him. he’ll have his hand under your jaw as he buries himself inside you to the hilt with slow, deep strokes.

at breakfast, while your parents are completely oblivious, jeonghan has to fight the urge to smirk, knowing he was inside you a mere hour before.

the sex is ridiculously good ― but he feels as if you’re still closed-off to him. that distance that he felt in those first weeks of being around you has decreased, but it’s still there. he wants nothing more than to be trusted with whatever’s clearly on your mind, but he figures you don’t. not completely.

as jeonghan repeatedly knocks on your door to get you to hurry up for your trip to the cinema, he’s suddenly greeted by your mother walking down the hall, motioning for him to come over to her, away from your door.

“jeonghan,” your mother says softly, “i wanted to thank you for taking such good care of my daughter. she seems… happier, these days. she’s fond of you.”

the heartfelt words make him smile genuinely. “i’m fond of her, too. she’s good company, and i… well, i’ve never had a sister, so…”

“it’s wonderful to see you two get along so well, especially after last year. she was so torn up about it.”

“last year?” he asks, confused.

your mother in turn looks confused as well. “she hasn’t told you?”

“no, i don’t think so.”

she looks behind her for a second to check if the hallway is still empty, proceeding to speak in a more hushed tone. “oh, it was terrible. one of the girls who was a member of her sports team fell to her death while they were all gathered at a party together. the police officers weren’t on the scene quick enough, so all the girls saw the body, and the blood... it took a toll on her, she cuts me off whenever i try to talk to her about it. but since moving here, i suppose she’s gotten the fresh start she needed.”

well, that’s an interesting twist, to say the least.

how traumatic that experience must’ve been for you ― he doesn’t know why you wouldn’t tell him something like that. do you really not trust him at all?

when he takes you out to the city just five minutes later, he pretends not to know a thing about your mother’s words to him. he’s eager to wait and see when you’ll open up.

it takes you several weeks more to do so. you’re in his room, and he’s laying down on his back while you’re on your stomach next to him, pushing yourself up on your elbows, fiddling with your fingers. “do you think what we’re doing is wrong?”

“million-dollar question, isn’t it?” he shrugs while looking up at the ceiling. “it feels good to us. why would it be wrong?”

“everyone would disapprove. our parents would probably disown us, one might argue it’s even, you know… morally wrong.”

he blinks at your words slowly, voice slightly gentler than before.

“perhaps you should start looking at things differently. y’know, i ask myself a certain question sometimes.” jeonghan finally meets your gaze, and it’s almost hypnotic. “who will you be when no one can stop you?”

“and what’s your answer?”

“as for me — someone who doesn’t live by the rules. i live my life however i want. if that means doing something other people consider to be ‘wrong’… so be it.”

“how far would you take that? how wrong?”

“as wrong as you want it.”

he notices your breathing quicken. his eyes flick down to your collarbone before moving back up again. your hand faintly brushes past his, and he goes out of his way to put your hand on his chest, so utterly desperate to have that intimacy with you at every possible opportunity.

“can i ask you something, hannie?”

“always.”

“would you still like me if i said i was guilty of something?”

jeonghan refrains from making a playful comment when he takes notice of the seriousness in your tone, like you’re about to confess something. “what’re you guilty of?”

“i…” your breath hitches in your throat, and your impulsivity fails you, “no, forget i said anything.”

that’s when he turns his head to look at you. “hey, don’t do that. you can tell me anything.”

“i want you to still like me, jeonghan.”

he feels genuinely touched that you value the bond you two have as much as he does. “sweetheart, you could tell me you’re secretly the head of a drug cartel and i’d still like you. c’mon, tell me.”

you fiddle with his fingers to avoid looking at him, but you do begin to open up. “last year, i was a member of the university hockey club. i was close with a couple of my teammates, but not all of them. in february, there was a party on campus to celebrate the nearing end of the sports season, just like every year.”

jeonghan can almost see your throat tightening up. your struggle is so utterly visible that it makes him grow worried.

but he stays quiet.

“at a certain point that night, it was so hot inside that i went up to the rooftop to get some fresh air, since we were high up in the building with the party. about ten minutes later, one of my teammates also came up to the roof. we hated each other’s guts since the start. it was pretty obvious that she had too much to drink, but she began to just… talk shit to me, saying the team was better off without me and other teammates i was close with, and i got riled up, ‘cause i knew she didn’t like me at all. so our fight eventually became physical ― she tried to claw at my hair and face, and i pushed her away from me in the heat of the moment, i didn’t see that she was standing at the edge until she��”

he finishes the sentence as you refuse to do so yourself.

“until she’d already fallen to her death.”

you nod as a confirmation, and he finally manages to catch your gaze, a pair of glossy eyes staring back at him.

all kinds of questions run through his head. “what happened afterwards?”

“hannie…” you softly protest, heart crumbling with every word that comes out of your mouth, because it makes you feel so fucking vulnerable ― you can’t bear the thought of him leaving you or judging you.

he hums, tilting your chin upwards so you keep facing him. “no, baby. tell me.”

the nickname rolls off his tongue so naturally that you nearly miss it. “everyone who was there that night was questioned. there were no cameras, no witnesses, everyone knew she had a problem with alcohol… so i… i just said the same as everyone else. i lied. when the police ruled it an accident, everyone believed it.”

“it was.”

“except it wasn’t, because i pushed her.” you bury your face in your hands for a moment. “the shock hit me so hard that i went to the bathroom and threw up everything i ate that night. but once it wore off, i just… i didn’t feel guilty. i don’t care that she fell to her death ― it was unfortunate but bound to happen. and that’s what scares me, ‘cause i’m―i’m supposed to feel guilty about this, right? what kind of shitty person am i that i just don’t feel that? what the fuck is wrong with me?”

everything suddenly falls into place. the threatening arguments you had with bitna, the way you nearly had a breakdown at the church, the distance you’ve been so eager to keep since the day you stepped foot in this place.

this is what you were trying to run away from by coming here.

you don’t feel guilty because you pushed a girl plummeting to her death ― you feel guilt because you simply can’t bring yourself to care.

“did you want to push her?”

“jeonghan.” your tone is close to hostile, but his calm demeanor somehow pushes through.

“answer the question.”

“i—”

the stumble of an answer makes him smirk, and his face inches closer to yours, not allowing you to try and give the answer that’s clearly not the truth. “you did. you’re glad she’s dead.”

“stop. just stop.”

“you’re just saying this because you feel obligated to, not because you mean it. tell me how you really feel. i won’t judge you.”

every word coming out of his mouth tears you open little by little, exposing your biggest secret and darkest thoughts. but if he’s already deducted it — why not tell him?

it’s like you hit an internal switch. the stress begins to leave your features like he’s never seen before.

he finds it intriguing.

you finally give in and tell him the truth. “okay, fine. i hated that bitch to the bone, and i’m glad she’s dead. but i guess i still have some level of guilt, because now that i’ve done what i did… what kind of person does that make me?”

jeonghan flinches. he’s heard those words before — in his own head.

he wants to tell you that it makes you a lot more like him than he thought, to the point that it almost scares him. you’ve just trusted him with your darkest secret, yet he’s afraid to trust you with his.

what would you think of him? would you still want him the way he wants you?

“it makes you someone who had no choice. she was drunk, looking to start a fight, and you defended yourself.”

“do you really believe that?”

“i do. good and bad are a matter of perspective, and i believe you did the right thing. you’ll let go of that guilt with time. trust me.”

finally telling someone what you’ve had on your chest for so long is freeing, and he hardly appears as repulsed as you’d imagined him to be.

your voice becomes smaller. “but what if i don’t?”

“then i’ll help you. you’re my sister; i’ll take care of you, always.” he promises you, intertwining his fingers with yours, and you don’t know how to respond at first, solely because you don’t think you’ve ever been loved like this ― unconditionally.

with his free hand, he gently runs his hand through your hair, and it’s like you can finally relax now that you know jeonghan sees you as you are and cares for you just as much as before.

“thank you, hannie.” you mutter, laying your head down on his chest, and he presses a kiss on top of your head.

“anytime, sweetheart.”

his shoulders sink in relief under you. all he wants is the people he cares for to put their faith in him, and you’ve just proved you trust him with everything you have.

with you on his mind and in his arms, he drifts off into a deep slumber.

it’s remarkable how your parents remain completely oblivious of everything that’s been going on right underneath their noses. there’s been a few close calls, but nothing serious.

the last thing you expected after opening up to him was for you to grow even closer than you already were, yet that’s exactly what happened.

jeonghan has been particularly insatiable over the course of the past weeks. being all handsy, urging you to stay in his bed a little longer in the mornings, begging you to let him bury his head between your legs when he’s already done so several times — whatever’s in his system these days, it is strong.

not that you’re complaining.

being so comfortable with each other apparently also means pushing limits; the limits to possibly being caught, that is.

pushing his fingers inside you underneath the table when you’re having lunch with your parents, sneaking off into an empty classroom at university, showering together despite everyone being home ― the list goes on. there’s something thrilling about the idea of indulging in something you know you shouldn’t.

one line you haven’t crossed yet is slipping away from a charity event hosted by jeonghan’s father, though it seems that’ll be changing tonight.

jeonghan wasn’t planning on fucking you while the guests are still here, in his own home ― but you just look so gorgeous in that dress, and his jealousy is slowly but steadily going through the roof with every man coming up to you, clearly eyeing your dangerously low neckline.

as you’re heading to grab a new glass of champagne, you’re greeted by your dear stepbrother, and you’ve come to know him well enough to recognize that smug expression painted on his face.

“no.” you immediately tell him, and he huffs.

“oh, c’mon. you’re so not having fun right now.”

“can’t we just wait until everyone’s left?”

“on the contrary. this is the perfect timing.”

“yeah, for you, i bet. are you all hot and bothered, hannie?”

“i am, and you’re the only one who can fix it.”

the sarcasm might as well drip from your tongue. “wow, i feel so flattered.”

while your full attention is on jeonghan, and his attention is on you, neither of you are aware that joshua, who was invited alongside his parents, has been staring at you two since jeonghan approached you.

truth be told, joshua’s had the idea something was off about your dynamic that first moment he ever saw you interact with him, in the hallway at university.

jeonghan has never looked at anyone like he looks at you — full of intrigue, full of longing for something he can’t quite put his finger on. which he dismissed at first.

in spite of their close friendship, there is a certain barrier between them. there’s certain lines joshua won’t cross that jeonghan most definitely will, and perhaps he’s found his match in you.

but he still assumes that the relationship you have is platonic. surely it has to be.

only with each passing day, he begins to doubt that.

he’s itching to find out how you are with each other when you’re alone, and it’s a terrible thing to listen in on a conversation, but he wants this. desperately, for whatever reason.

he can’t help himself when he notices you going after him. following you from a distance, he quickly recognizes the room you head into is jeonghan’s.

the walls prove relatively thick, and his attempt to listen in from the outside fails, because he can’t hear anything.

so he blames the three glasses of champagne he downed earlier for making him go on with hasty decision-making as he quietly pushes the door handle down, not planning on actually entering the room, only having the door ajar.

jeonghan’s room is as big as a spacious apartment, so it’s no surprise joshua doesn’t see you anywhere at first.

it’s relatively quiet, with the crackling fireplace making the most noise, and he’s about to turn away from the door when he hears your voice in the background.

“you’re so impatient.”

then there’s jeonghan’s voice. “sue me.”

it remains somewhat quiet after that, until joshua hears noise he can’t make anything out of.

his curiosity gets the better of him, so he takes a few steps forward, peeking around the corner — only to find you together on top of the bed with messy hair and hands all over each other.

he’s taken aback with eyes blown wide as he watches the girl he likes half-naked and writhing underneath his best friend.

he hates how pretty you both look with the light of the fire reflecting on your skin.

jeonghan is completely caught up in the feeling of your heat around him when he throws his head back, but then he catches movement near the corner — and suddenly the two of them lock eyes.

of course he sees how borderline horrified joshua looks at the scene in front of him; he just can’t bring himself to care.

if anything, he simply ensures you keep your head turned the other way while burying himself deeper inside you, shooting his friend one of his classic lazy grins. your moans are the last thing joshua hears before he blinks to himself, leaving the room, nearly stumbling over his own feet in the process.

and jeonghan can only let out a satisfactory chuckle to himself, continuing to fuck you as if he didn’t just catch his best friend staring at the two of you.

matter of fact, it’s not until several days later that he sees him again, at university.

the hallway is as good as empty when joshua shakes his head at the sight of him. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“no? why’s that?”

shua grits his teeth. “how long has this been going on between you and her?”

“not long before our parents got married.”

“that’s several months.” he exclaims with his face even more horrified than before. “why the fuck would you hide something like this from me for so long?”

“why would i tell you at all, shua?”

a pang of hurt shoots through joshua’s chest, and he presses his lips together. “because i liked her.”

“and how was i supposed to know that?”

“you always know these things before i know them myself. don’t tell me you weren’t aware.”

jeonghan catches the hurt in his voice and decides to tone things down. “you’re right. i knew how you felt. i guess i didn’t know how to tell you.”

“look, whatever you’re doing with her needs to stop.”

well, so much for toning things down. he thinks he much prefers being clear and forward instead. “no it doesn’t.”

“jesus christ — you’re fucking your stepsister, jeonghan! how can you be remotely normal about this?”

where joshua’s anger rises, all that surges through jeonghan’s body is pride.

yeah, perhaps the whole thing should make him feel ashamed instead of boosting his ego, but it’s not like he hasn’t already crossed the line of what is and isn’t right. what’s the harm in going even further?

“i’m normal about it ‘cause i like doing it,” he shrugs, hardly attempting to hide his enjoyment, “we’re both adults. we already were when we met several months ago, we weren’t raised together, we’re not related in the slightest. so what does it matter?”

“oh, c’mon. she’s family to you now.”

“true. but i don’t care if i have to break up my father’s marriage for this, shua. she’s mine, one way or another.”

“is it just physical?”

“you’re asking me if i love her?” he nods for a moment, admitting how he feels about you. “i do. a lot. i don’t think i’ve ever felt this way about anyone else.”

that certainly puts a halt to joshua’s snarky comments for the time being. jeonghan is not the type of person to say something like that easily, which also means that no matter what he says, his best friend is not planning on giving you up anytime soon.

but joshua feels hurt ― so he’s going to test that love jeonghan harbors for you, even if it means stooping lower than he ever thought he would.

it’s silent, briefly. he leans closer to his face, narrowing his eyes. “does she know what you did?”

jeonghan’s blood runs cold at the sentence alone. his entire demeanor changes like the flip of a switch ― his lips are pressed together in sheer anger, and he visibly has to hold back from shoving his best friend against the wall. “the fuck did you just say to me?”

“she deserves to know.”

“oh, so now is the moment you suddenly have morals again? what happened to ‘taking it to the grave’, huh?”

“i don’t care what you do, it’s not my secret to tell. but like you said, she’s your family. if you two care about each other so much, then she should know.”

“shua, i value our friendship, which is why i won’t cuss the shit out of you right now, but this is not your business to meddle with. we keep this between us, just like we promised back then. got it?”

“sure.” the sound of joshua’s humorless chuckle rings through his ears. “you know, i used to wonder when you’d finally break. when the burden of what you did might get too much for your conscience. but eventually i realized that’s never gonna happen, because that conscience i thought you had? it doesn’t fucking exist.”

with those words, his best friend leaves him behind. jeonghan has to take a second to comprehend what just happened ― hell, he’s still not sure he heard it right.

neither joshua nor jeonghan are aware that you’ve been listening in on nearly the whole conversation from the other side of the corner, and you’re left asking yourself if you made a mistake trusting jeonghan with your secret.

because he clearly doesn’t trust you with his.

VI. WHEN PUSH COMES TO SHOVE

jeonghan stares at the screen of his laptop with a hollow chest and overflowing thoughts.

truth be told, he doubts he’s ever felt this vulnerable.

ever since his falling out with joshua two weeks ago, life has been particularly shitty. his best friend still isn’t speaking to him, and you’ve suddenly started to distance yourself from him too, for whatever reason.

he’s pretty sure he’s going insane. it’s not like he said something to offend you, and you don’t even appear to be angry with him at all ― you’re still as lovely as ever, except you keep yourself far away from him.

every time he’s tried to talk to you, you managed to worm your way out of it, leaving him no choice but to speak to you when you’re about to go to bed.

“you’ve been avoiding me.”

as you’re taking your earrings out in front of the mirror, he watches you raise your brows in annoyance. “yeah, i have.”

“have i done something to upset you?” he hesitantly asks with a gentle voice and big eyes, and you almost begin to feel bad because of it.

you consider denying it and brushing it off but decide not to. “i overheard your conversation with joshua.”

he digs his nails into the palm of his hand. fuck.

“right.”

“that’s it? no witty remark?” you shrug, and jeonghan doesn’t miss the sharp edge to your words.

when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. it’s rare for him to be speechless, but he simply doesn’t know what to say to you.

it makes you even more annoyed than you already are. “you’re not going to tell me about the little secret you share with him, are you?”

he shoots you an apologetic look. “i can’t. i’m sorry.”

“why not?”

“because—” because he’s even worse than you are, “—i just can’t. and it’s not ‘cause i don’t trust you—”

“are you serious?” you frown at his sad attempt of making up an excuse. “look at what i’ve told you about me. i trusted you with something like that, but you don’t trust me.”

“i do.” he firmly interrupts. “i trust you more than anyone.”

“well, forgive me if i don’t believe that. if you’re not gonna tell me whatever it is you’re hiding, there’s the door.”

he waits for a second, the spasm in his fingertips being the only visible sign that he’s itching to tell you what’s been sitting on his conscience for so long ― yet not a single word comes out of his mouth.

with shoulders slumped in defeat, he hesitantly takes a step backwards, leaving you behind as he exits your room.

while walking down the hallway to get to his own room, he takes a deep breath. all he can tell himself is that this will probably blow over soon, and perhaps you’ll even forget about it, with time.

several weeks later, he realizes that those thoughts couldn’t be less true.

in the days that have passed since the argument, you’ve hardly even looked at him. he can’t stand this sudden distance between you ― he wishes you understood why he hasn’t told you the truth, but he’s afraid you’ll only understand that once he actually tells you. in which lies the problem.

he doesn’t do that kind of honesty. not usually, anyways.

now, for the first time in weeks, the crippling sense of loneliness he’s been feeling is replaced by annoyance.

he’s always hated the parties hosted by his father’s social circle ― but if he wants his inheritance, he’ll have to bear it. so he finds himself attending a gala in his tailored tuxedo, his hands sitting in his pockets, a deep frown set into his forehead.

maybe it was uncharacteristically naive of him to think everything could go back to the way things were before that conversation with joshua. the last thing he expected, though, was that he’d be the one left behind.

from a distance, he’s been keeping his eye on you. and from what he’s seen, you and joshua are friendly with each other again, and jeonghan gets the feeling his best friend only holds him accountable for the fact that you’re fucking.

truthfully, you came up to joshua a few days after overhearing their conversation, and you apologized he had to see you and his best friend together in the way that he did. with shua still holding a bit of a soft spot for you, he accepted your apology, and you’ve been enjoying his company ever since.

but he’s not jeonghan.

while anxiously tapping your finger against the champagne glass, you look around the room, since you’ve hardly even seen him tonight.

it’s as if joshua can read your mind. he leans down to speak in a hushed tone. “trouble in paradise?”

him taking notice of it makes you shrug. “no, everything’s fine.”

“sure.” he chuckles knowingly. “i get it. why do you think he’s still my best friend after all these years?”

“what do you mean?”

“i know you overheard our conversation a couple weeks ago. i saw you slip away, and now that i know you’re not on speaking terms with him, well… you put two and two together.”

“i’m guessing you’re not gonna tell me either?”

“i can’t. unfortunately.”

the cryptic response has you rolling your eyes at him. “i don’t understand why you guys are being so secretive about it.”

“because if he told you, you’d see him for who he really is.”

“and who would that be?”

“someone who…” he swallows for a moment. “someone who will make you question your own sanity. he’s willing to do the worst things you could possibly think of and then act like it’s completely normal. he’s the worst person i know.”

the brutal honesty catches you off guard. “so why do you keep going back to him?”

“i’ve asked myself the same question. there’s something about him that… i don’t know―just pulls you in, i guess.”

the short-lived silence makes you look at your glass of alcohol with a certain distaste.

“why are you telling me this, joshua? are you saying i should distance myself from him?”

“that’s the thing. there is no distancing yourself from him.”

“you make him sound like a monster.”

joshua doesn’t meet your eyes. “perhaps he is.”

the bitter statement leaves you baffled for a second — until you decide you’re sick of it. “for fuck’s sake, joshua, you can’t say something like that and not elaborate. i live in the same house as him.”

he’s clearly surprised by your sudden and strong grip on his arm, but all it takes is catching a single glance from jeonghan across the room for him to backtrack.

“i’m sorry.” is all he says to you before leaving you behind, hoping to find some peace and quiet in the empty hallway.

all he finds there is the opposite.

“you seem awfully close with my sister. thought you’d try again now that she’s not talking to me?”

joshua stops dead in his tracks. he turns around, seeing his best friend casually leaning against the wall, the soft light of the lamp above his head reflecting on his face. the red circles under his eyes almost match his hair.

“i’m not trying anything. i know she doesn’t like me like that.”

“i’m aware. but perhaps she’d naturally gravitate more towards liking you if you told her… our secret.” jeonghan manipulatively emphasizes, which his best friend fails to register.

joshua clenches his fist. “that’s something you would do. not me.”

“right. you’re a much better person than me.”

“i didn’t say that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

“just―just tell her the truth. i can’t stand that she knows we’re hiding something.”

“we’re not guilty of anything, shua. i told you that.”

“then why won’t you tell her?”

“because she wasn’t there. she wouldn’t understand.”

but his own worry clouds his judgement and shifts the conversation into a different direction. “i saw bitna tonight. it’s like she fucking knows what we did to her brother―”

jeonghan’s anger comes swift and harsh, causing joshua to flinch. “we agreed to remain silent on this, shua, so you need to keep your end of the deal.”

but jeonghan suddenly notices his best friend is now focused on something behind him, and as his body language changes into something smaller, jeonghan turns his head.

only to see you standing behind him with confused eyes.

fucking hell, he thinks to himself. what is it with everyone and eavesdropping these days?

“joshua, go outside, take a breather. i’ll be back.” he says, taking charge of the situation, barely making eye contact with you when he takes a few steps toward you, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him to an empty room he finds after opening one of the doors, shutting the door behind you. the jealousy is painfully obvious in his face.

“you can’t avoid me forever. and what the fuck are you doing ― being besties with joshua all of a sudden? seriously?”

“oh, so i need your approval on who i befriend now?”

“you know damn well that’s not what i’m saying. it makes zero sense for you to be mad at me but all buddy-buddy with him.”

“because you’re the one i trust! i never put my faith in him the way i put it in you!”

“do you really think i don’t feel the same way? if you actually believe i don’t trust you, you’re not as smart as i thought you to be.”

“fuck you, jeonghan. if you think i’ll ever open up to you again in the way that i did, you’re wrong.”

when you’re about to leave him behind, he stops you, tugging at your arm, and you sigh.

“please don’t leave. please.” he begs, his voice turning small. “i wanna tell you — i’m just scared to lose you when i do. and that’s the one thing i cannot handle.”

you scoff. “oh, c’mon, after what i did, how much worse can it possibly get?”

when he keeps quiet, looking you in the eye with a stern face, yours drops.

“jeonghan, what did you do?”

after opening the door to check if anyone’s there, then closing it again, he rubs his forehead. “me and joshua went on vacation to a winter retreat over our november break with a group of twenty, it was an initiative from a classmate. it ended up being a couple days of a lot of drinking, and then one night, someone pulled out the harddrugs. shua and i didn’t want any, and the guys who brought it clearly thought it was stupid. one of them was bitna’s brother.”

you just listen intently, gesturing for him to continue.

“eventually, he went outside to grab more beer from the storage by himself, which was about a five-minute walk from the house. i slipped out of the room without anyone noticing and went after him. there was a snow storm outside, so the weather was shit. once i got to the storage, i told him to stop harassing shua about taking any drugs, but he reacted badly to it. we got into a fight, i don’t even remember who threw the first punch, but… i pushed him, and when he fell backwards, it’s like i could hear the crack in his skull. he was bleeding from the back of his head, unable to get up. i grabbed my phone to call for help, but all i did was stare at my screen. the guy was bleeding out in front of me and i let him die instead of letting anyone know. and it would’ve been fine — had joshua not come outside.”

“did he watch everything?”

“no, i don’t think he did. i told him exactly what had happened, and he… he came up with the idea of framing it as an unfortunate accident. so that’s what we did. the other guys were so coked out that night that they only found the body the next day, buried under a layer of snow. the cops found the drugs in his system, and he clearly hit his head, so they ruled it an accident like we’d hoped.”

“and you swore to take it to the grave.” you fill in the blanks, and he nods at you. “why didn’t you tell me this when i asked you? what were you so afraid of?”

you see something in him you’ve never seen before — tears. nervousness. panic.

his eyes turn red and his throat tightens up. “when you told me your secret, i was… happy. because the person i care for the most is the only one who’s experienced what i have. but what you had to do was nothing more than an accident, and what i did was on purpose. i could’ve saved that guy, yet i chose not to. i don’t care if that makes me a bad person — i just don’t want you to see me that way. as selfish as that may be.”

he’s on the verge of sobbing, trembling fingers sitting on your waist.

little does he know that you don’t view him as a bad person at all. “you had to make a choice, and you made the right one. who knows what they would’ve done to you if you’d told the truth.”

all he can do is nod, his throat too closed-off to talk.

“you’re my brother. you’ll always have me, jeonghan.” you tell him, remembering the words he said to you after you confessed what was weighing so heavily on your conscience.

and jeonghan cannot help gazing at you ― he realizes that you understand him more than anyone else ever will. he’s free to completely be himself with you as you are with him, and he’s finally processing that.

he cups your face, staring at your lips before pressing his own on them.

the kiss is slow but hungry — full of greed and care and wanting. his hands move from your face to your back, pressing your body closer to his, aching for your bodies to mold together and become one.

his whole body trembles when you break the kiss, and you cup his face as he did yours.

he can’t believe he gave you his bare heart on a silver platter and you chose to stay. you see him for all he is, and in spite of his many flaws, you want him just as much as before.

yoon jeonghan, for the first time in his life, finally knows what it’s like to be loved in the way he so desperately yearned for.

and he wants to show you that he loves you just as much. he leans in to kiss you again, but just when his lips are about to touch yours, the door whips open, and you’re greeted by a phone shoved in front of you.

the vulnerability on your faces is gone the second you recognize the person holding the phone as bitna — who seems horrified.

“what the fuck are you doing?” jeonghan sneers when he realizes she made a picture of your near-kiss.

she stumbles in her step, and it seems like she’s had one too many glasses of champagne. “at first i thought i was imagining things at the party, but i was right. i was trying to finally tell you how much i liked you, even after all these years, and you ditched me for your fucking stepsister!”

that makes you raise your brow. jeonghan just confessed to killing her brother, yet this is what she chooses to talk about — she probably wasn’t eavesdropping, then.

“and how is that any of your business? we’ve barely even spoken to each other since high school.” he responds, his voice to her colder than he’s ever been to you.

“maybe it’s not my business. but the rest of your friends here deserve to know what you’ve been up to, if you ask me.” she says, attempting to make her tone sound just as mean as his, but the tremble in her voice gives her away.

when she grabs her phone and begins to type like she’s on a timer, you both realize what she’s about to do — she’s gonna upload the picture.

if that photo of you and jeonghan gets out, it’ll have serious consequences.

you attempt to snatch the phone out of her hand, but she’s quicker, her sharp nails leaving a scratch on your wrist.

jeonghan sees you hiss from the pain, and he pushes her up against the wall, his hand wrapped around her throat.

“don’t even fucking try it.”

bitna panics and shoves her knee right into his crotch, causing him to grunt from the impact, forced to let go of her neck as he collapses on the floor.

she grabs her phone and runs out of the hallway, and you don’t waste a second, running after her.

with the gala taking place at a mansion by the countryside, you’re far away from civilization, mostly just surrounded by the forest and some badly lit roads.

you go after her even when she runs outside through the backdoor, right between the tall trees. it’s when she trips over her heels that you’re finally able to catch up with her, and you flip her around to choke her unconscious, but she uses her nails to scratch across your face this time.

“fuck!” you yell, and she uses the moment to escape once more.

with a few drops of blood on your face, you get up to go after her again, fueled by the adrenaline and blazing hatred in your system.

she keeps running, looking back to you from over her shoulder, and it’s right at that moment that she runs onto the road, forgetting to check whether there’s any traffic in her haste — and she gets pushed over by an incoming car.

shock hits you briefly, and you contemplate hiding between the trees to leave the scene of the crime until you recognize the car as well as its driver.

jeonghan gets out, and you run over to him, finding him standing by bitna’s body, which is now several meters away from the car due to the crash.

“fucking hell — what just happened? i wasn’t even trying to hit her, she just ran in front of the car out of fucking nowhere—did she do that to your face?”

with your breathing slowing bit by bit, you nod, and you both look down at the body, only to realize she’s still breathing, but her injuries are so bad that she can’t get up, and she’s coughing up blood. hell, it looks like she can hardly even move at all.

the sound of her pained grunts hardly affect you when you take her phone out of her pocket to delete the picture before putting it back again.

“sweetheart.” jeonghan says to you, and you look at each other for a moment. “she knows too much.”

you sigh, turning around to check if there’s any cars coming, but the road is remote and empty, and it’s late at night.

“who’s gonna do it?”

he wordlessly sinks down to one knee, staring down at bitna even when his hand squeezes her throat and the life leaves her eyes. he only closes his eyes when some splatters of the blood she was coughing up hits his cheek, which he wipes away with his other hand.

when he checks her pulse to see if she’s still alive, you see a single car nearing the scene, the driver of which you then recognize as the last person that should see this.

joshua hits the brakes and hurries out of the car. “i saw you drive off like crazy, what the hell happened—”

his words are caught in his throat when he sees the body.

“shua. she’s gone.” your voice is strained as the sobs remain choked-up in your throat, your shaky hands tugging at his arm.

tears well up in his eyes. “what the—how did this happen?”

jeonghan forces himself to sound remotely shaken up. “i just drove here and she ran in front of the car. it was an accident, i swear.”

but a part of joshua doesn’t buy it. “out of nowhere? what the fuck is this, jeonghan? are you lying to me?”

“no. i swear to you—”

but he doesn’t let him finish. “this is insane. we have to do something, tell the cops what happened here, and with her brother—”

it’s then that jeonghan’s softer approach fades into something meaner. he pushes him against the hood of the car, trying to talk some sense into him. “and what do you think the cops will say, huh? you think they’ll just smile at you for fessing up and let you walk out freely? you’re an accomplice to murder, shua. everyone you know will hate you. this will haunt your name for the rest of your life ― get it into your thick skull once and for all.”

joshua’s breathing quickens with his sobs. “i can’t deal with this the way you can. i can’t do it.”

“you can, and you will.” he grabs his face, wiping the fresh tears away. “you just have to breathe, and you deny. you deny everything. you were not here, okay? i need you to go home, she and i will fix this.”

“you can’t keep making me go through this. how many more deaths do i need to have on my conscience before it’s enough?”

jeonghan shakes his head calmly, embracing him, his one hand on the back of joshua’s neck. “it’s not your fault, shua. it’ll be okay, promise.”

joshua glances at you, seeing your distraught face, and the portion of trust he lost in his best friend, he chooses to find in you.

and so he believes it. he tells himself it was an accident, and does what he’s told.

the moment joshua walks back to get into his car, jeonghan peers at you, the flickering red light reflecting on your tear-streaked face. the emotions you were displaying mere seconds ago are entirely gone, replaced by something numb and indifferent in the blink of an eye.

it’s like looking into a mirror.

as joshua’s in the driver’s seat, jeonghan tells him what to do one last time before the younger of the two drives off, leaving only you and your brother behind.

what happens next is like a blur. jeonghan tells you something about a nearby lake, which is where he takes the body to get rid of it. once he returns, he’s empty-handed, save for the fresh blood on his conscience.

you’re in the driver’s seat, watching him get in beside you, his clothes stained with red spots.

he sits still for a moment, but as soon as you turn your head, he holds your chin and kisses you.

it’s far less gentle than before, more lust than anything, but it’s something you both need right now.

with your forehead leaning against his, you breathe into each other’s mouths. “we gotta go home, hannie. before our parents get back.” you whisper.

all he can do is hum in agreement, kissing you one more time before you start the car.

once you’re home, you park the car out of sight, as it needs to be cleaned and repaired.

you eventually manage to get into jeonghan’s room unseen. he yanks his stained shirt over his head, throwing it into the fireplace to get rid of every piece of evidence he can think of. you immediately go on to wash your hands by the sink.

it’s interesting for you to watch how he behaves at a moment like this — it’s hard to tell whether his thoughts are racing or completely frozen. he moves to the bathroom to scrub the blood off his hands and nails, going at it for several minutes until there’s not a speck of red left.

then he comes walking back, heading straight for the whiskey bottle on top of the coffee table to down two glasses in one go.

“you put up a show for joshua.” he states.

“what do you mean?”

“the crying. it stopped the second you knew he wasn’t paying attention to it anymore.”

kudos to him for being so perceptive. you didn’t think he noticed.

“so?”

he takes a few steps over to you. “i saw it. that moment your expression completely changed… i used to think we were different, in a way. but we’re really not.”

it only makes you shrug your shoulders. “and now? am i no longer a good person to you, little brother?”

jeonghan mimics the teasing in your tone. “i think being a good person is overrated.”

his tone and gaze and grip on your hips is harsher than usual, and as soon as he’s got you pressed against the wall, you realize he’s rock-hard.

“you looked so fucking good doing that. the way you talked to joshua, saying the exact things you needed to say to get him to believe you, the blood on your face—” he mutters, completely lost in his desires now that you’ve made them a reality, “you were perfect. my sweet sister.”

your nails harshly dig into his skin, hot arousal dripping between your legs. you pull your dress of and discard it onto the floor, taking a few steps back to his desk, pulling him with you with your finger at the waistband of his boxers.

“need you in me. please, i’m so fucking wet—”

after laying you back on his desk, he rubs his cock against your entrance, finding you soaking for him, and he has to force himself to keep his composure and not completely fall apart already.

a shameless moan escapes him when he pushes himself inside you, and his pace quickly increases, his mouth moving to your sensitive nipples. you wrap your legs around his waist at the sensation, and his warm saliva coats your breasts while he keeps fucking into you.

you don’t think the coil in your stomach has ever built up this fast. all you want is for him to keep fucking you throughout the night, and by the looks of it, he’s far from done with you.

he leaves hickeys all over your upper body, feeling more possessive of you than ever before, and you suck his cock so tightly into your cunt that he wants to stay like this forever.

“let me cum inside you, baby, please. wanna see it drip out of you — oh my god, please, let me have it—”

the sound of his begging turns you even wetter. “yes, yes, cum in me, hannie.”

it’s a mere matter of seconds before you feel him shudder, emptying himself inside you, and he looks down to see drops of his white cum seeping out of your dripping pussy. he watches you rub at your clit before you dip your finger inside, pushing his cum back into you, and his breath visibly hitches in his throat.

his cock has never been hard faster, and he rubs himself at the sight of your pussy, moaning when you begin to finger yourself in front of him, the wet noise ringing through his ears.

“let me fuck you again. wanna fuck you again so bad, baby, look at how wet you are, jesus christ—”

“want it harder this time, hannie.” you nod, pulling him closer to you again, and he’s utterly hypnotized, as if you’re some holy being speaking to someone beneath you.

and as always, he’ll gladly oblige you, so he sheathes himself inside, giving you exactly what you want.

you both lose complete track of time in his room, lost in your own world, waking up the next day to the news that the girl whose body you dumped into the lake is considered missing by the authorities.

it’s two days later when they discover her body, and as you’d hoped, the police appear to believe her death was an unfortunate accident rather than cold-blooded murder.

bitna’s funeral is grim.

it’s more crowded than you anticipated, but the majority of people attending are either family, current classmates or former classmates, you and jeonghan falling into the latter categories. you blend in well with the other attendees.

with your black coats and leather gloves on, you stare at the casket being lowered into the ground.

once the people leaving are out of earshot, the two of you glance at the tombstone. “what a shame. she was young.”

jeonghan nods slowly. “and she made a mistake by trying to meddle with business that wasn’t hers.”

“do you have any regrets? about the things that happened?”

“no. do you?”

“i should, probably. but i don’t.” you shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. “i have a feeling joshua is gonna lose his shit, though. he’s fragile.”

“you’d be surprised, actually.” he leans toward you, making sure that no one can hear him. “when bitna’s brother died, it was his idea to frame it as suicide.”

“seriously? i thought it was yours.”

“to be fair, i’d come up with the idea already, but i wanted him to be the one to say it. all he needed was me mentioning what the consequences would be — were we to confess what happened. the image of spending a solid part of your life in prison does wonders for some.”

deadpanning a stare, you snort. “you manipulated him into coming up with the suicide so he couldn’t blame you later on.”

a smirk tugs at his lips, yet he tilts his head. “don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“fine, you got me there.”

you both chuckle quietly, after which it’s briefly quiet. shifting your gaze down to the ground, you huff to yourself.

“well, i guess this is who we are when no one can stop us.” you sigh. “somehow always at the scene of the crime.”

“this is who we are when we take care of each other.” he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side, rubbing at your clothed skin as he holds you. “you’re my sister. i’ll do anything for you — i want you to know that.”

“i do.” you nod, laying your head down on his shoulder. “i also know you don’t want me to protect you, but… i will. always.”

with a kiss pressed to your temple, he gives you his response to the sentiment.

sure, you and jeonghan may not share the same blood, but you are bound by the secrets you’ve shared and the blood you’ve spilled, and all you can feel for the future is… excitement.

thank u for reading. please let me know if u enjoyed it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[gothamhappiness]

You are my heaven 5 - the end (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. And then you asked for more :)

My masterlist is here.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Warnings: no proof reading, fighting, language, violence, angst/comfort (in a way), pregnant!reader

Things went out of hand pretty quickly. Dick joined you home and saw Bruce speaking with you. He was towering over you. You seemed very uneasy. 

“So you knew”

“That I was with a man who was actually in love with me and taking care of me? Yes”

“I am your husband. Is it how you are loyal to me? No, no, don’t answer. You know what, I understand. I haven’t been the best. But once he’ll be back to his world, I’ll do better. I’ll take care of this child and we’ll be happy again. Don’t you want that?”

You didn’t answer because you realised how obvious the answer was: you were in love with the other version of Bruce, not with the one you actually married. You wished for him to go away, you wanted things back like when he was gone. You didn’t even feel guilty anymore. You were allowed to be happy, your children too. Even Barbara started to enjoy the new Bruce better.

“Don’t you want that?” Bruce repeated, losing it over your lack of answer

Dick walked over and with the way the man greeted him, he knew who it was. The new Bruce was always smiling at him, always grateful to have Dick around. This Bruce was a little bit annoyed, a little bit too cold to feel happy around him. Dick wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you relaxed a little bit.

“Stay away from mom” Dick groaned

“I’m not… For fuck sake, can you all stop acting like if I was the intruder here? I belong here, this is my world, my family, my home!” Bruce was getting angry

“Then start treating us better already” Dick continued

“How fucking dare you?! Without me, you’d be nothing” Bruce started to scream

“And you how fucking dare you talking with that tone in front of a pregnant woman? A woman you said you loved too. But really you never knew anything about that, did you?”

The batfamily had always been pretty protective of you, but it was even worse now you were pregnant. And to Dick, his former father was actually a threat to the family. Because it finally felt like a family and after everything that happened, he didn’t want to lose it.

Everything happened in a blur after that. The “real” Bruce threw a punch at Dick, out of pure anger and despair at being so easily replaced. They started to fight. They had no mercy. Actually, all the anger they always felt toward each other was finally getting free and making them even more ruthless.

Alfred quickly grabbed you and guided you away from the two men, finding you a safe place to lock yourself in until everything would settle down. Alfred wasn’t too sure what to do. He had guessed something happened when his Master started to treat everyone like Alfred always wished he would. For once, he had decided to pretend to not understand. But now, to be fair, he wasn’t recognising the man he raised and he thought that maybe he was gone in this other world. Or maybe he never truly existed. He just wanted them to stop fighting, but he didn’t know how to.

You called your lover, you tried to explain to him what was going on, but you were getting close to a panic attack. 

“It’s alright, my love, it’s alright. I’m on my way. Stay where you are, stay safe. This is all that matters to me. Jason will come find you so you won’t stay on your own, okay? I just need you to breathe in and out. Can you do that? For me? I know you are strong. You are amazing, my love. I just need you to trust me” he smoothly told you, trying to appease you no matter how tense he was himself getting.

But all that mattered was you. Always you.

“I… I trust you” you finally manager to whisper

“Good. Lay down and breathe, my love. I’ll be home soon”

After that, he called Kate for her to deal with the security breach while he was coming back to the manor. On his way, he also called Jason for him to protect you and help you calm down. Jason didn’t ask a question. If his father needed you to look after you, he didn’t need to know anything else.

You heard a car coming by, the front doors getting opened and then more sounds of fighting. You knew that your Bruce had started a war with your former husband. You guessed he asked Dick to leave, because he didn’t want his son to get hurt. Hopefully, Alfred was taking care of Dick now.

You started to cry.

You jumped when you heard a knock at your door. Soon enough, you opened the door to a very worried Jason who locked the door back behind him and settled on the ground by your side. He held you and rocked you, whispered words of reassurance to help you calm down. He hated to see you like that.

When he arrived at the manor, he did his best to follow the instructions he received for once, and to not intervene in the fight between the two Bruces. He was now praying to whoever divinity who might hear him to get rid of the former Bruce. He didn’t want to be in the same world as him again. You both heard the sounds of the fight and it was driving you sick with worry. 

“What if he kills him?” you cried our and Jason shushed you

“He’ll be fine” he whispered

“You haven’t seen the way he was acting. He was so desperate to get his life back here, he promised me things…” you felt like you were going to throw up

“Ma, don’t worry. He may want his life back, but I can tell you that dad is actually very desperate to keep this life as well. And you’re pregnant with his baby. He’ll fight with everything he has” Jason tried to reassure you

Jason was right. The two Bruces were on equal strength, on equal intelligence and on equal despair. They both wanted and needed this good life in this world, but for that, one of them needed to be gone.

Both Bruces had thought of so many plans and different contingencies to take care of the other. They hadn’t really planned on simply fighting the other one. But despair drives everyone crazy and makes them act like animals.

You heard screams of:

“This is my home! I’ll kill you or I’ll send you back to your personal Hell!”

“This is my Heaven and you can’t get it away from me. You didn’t deserve any of this anyways. Even my wife knows it”

“She isn’t yours”

“That’s no what she said. That’s not what the children said.”

“Fuck you”

You had no idea how long it last. Forever, maybe.

“I’m going to get sick” you whispered when a terrible silence engulfed the whole manor.

Then you heard a lot of footsteps. The children arrived and were taking care of things. You jumped when Alfred knocked at the door.

“Mr Jason, Mrs Y/N, the fight is over. You can come out” he told you 

Jason had to help you get up because your legs didn’t want to obey you anymore. You opened the door and Cass helped you walk to the living room with Jason. Everyone was so tense.

“How’s Dick?” you asked Stephanie who walked by

“He is fine, Duke is with him right now, to make sure he is all good” she answered and you felt a little bit better knowing that

Damian was sitting on the ground with Tim. They were both looking at the two Bruce Wayne lying on the floor. One was stabbed, the other one was tasered. They were unconscious. Damian was lost, Tim was trying to take care of the wound. 

“Baraba called Leslie, Alfred is waiting for her” Cass told you before helping you sitting down on a chair

“What are we going to do?” you whispered

“We need to make a choice” Jason told you

After a little while, the whole family was in the room, looking at the two men. The choice was pretty easy to make. 

Your former husband was locked up in an unbreakable room. Leslie took care of him while he was unconscious, and after that only Alfred talked with him. Damian sometimes too, but he never let his father go. Deep down, you knew that this fate was even worse than just killing him. But you couldn’t kill him; you needed to send him back to the other world, because this world didn’t have any Bruce Wayne now and who knew what the consequences could be.

When your lover woke up, he was in his bed. You were sitting next to him, holding his hand in yours. 

“Welcome back, darling” you whispered

“You choose me” he understood, fully relaxing against the mattress

“We choose happiness. Whenever we’ll find out how, we’ll send him back to the other world. For the last time, hopefully”

“I’ll make sure of it” he hummed before kissing your fingers

The man you loved never had any more nightmares about the other Bruce.

And you neither.

--

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[nenemura]

THE UNIVERSE IS ON YOUR SIDE — (nrk x reader)

summary : in which the boy who annoyed you at summer camp becomes your next door neighbor.

featuring : sunoo from enhypen, ningning from aespa, beomgyu from txt and taesan from boynextdoor.

cw : neighbor!riki x fem!reader, kissing, cursing, a little skinship maybe? i think that’s all

wc : 6.1k

nene’s note : this is my first work, kinda nervous !! english is not my first language so if u see grammar errors no u didn’t. tell me what do you think about it! @vickymura this is for u

“you got to be kidding me”. these are the words that left your mouth, not too quietly, when you stared at your new next door neighbor. just behind his mom, who was lively chatting with yours about their recent move to your neighborhood, there was the boy who made your three weeks at summer camp, a living hell. nishimura riki. the tall boy had a grin printed on his full lips, his gaze studying your expression, which wasn’t that hard to decipher. if he just moved here, that would mean that he had to go to your same school and you would have to see him every. single. day. great way to end your summer, really.

unfortunately for you, his mom and yours quickly became friends, bonding over their mutual hobbies, such as baking, gardening and so on. the situation clearly didn’t look good on your side. on riki’s side though? he was the happiest boy on earth right now. he thought that his teasing ended on the last day of camp, but now? he’ll never let you live your life in peace.

“why don’t you come over tomorrow night? we can have dinner all together, my husband would love to meet your family!” your mother suggested with a big smile on her face. ms. nishimura happily agreed, wishing a good night to both you and your mother.

once in your dimly lit room, you collapsed on your bed, screaming into your pillow. the universe really had something against you, putting the one guy you couldn’t stand as your next door neighbor was a real low blow.

you reached for your phone, dialing your best friend’s phone number.

“hi?”, ningning softly spoke, it wasn’t like you to call at such a late hour. “ningning… my life is ruined. why do i bother living..” your muffled voice sounded even more dramatic to your best friend’s ears.

“what the hell happened?” ningning asked, her high pitched voice growing more and more curious. “you know that guy? the one from camp that wouldn’t give me peace? he just moved to the house next to mine, ning. he’s my neighbor”. ningning couldn’t hold her laughter, the sound reaching your ears as an offence to your dilemma. “what the hell are you laughing for? this is a tragedy” you sighed, palming your face at the thought of riki. “goodnight y/n!” your best friend said, before hanging up the call. “wow, what a nice friend” you mumbled to yourself, deciding to go to sleep.

at the end of summer, it would be your senior year so, regardless of the ‘nishimura curse’ — as you decided to name it — you were going to live it to the max.

you heard a honk, right out of your house, meaning that taesan was ready to pick you up. taesan was one of your best friends, in the same friend group as ningning.

“tough night?” he asked with a smile, as he watched your small figure getting in the car, your dark circles giving away that you didn’t even get one hour of sleep. you softly smiled at him, picking up his concerned tone. “yeah, i had a lot to think about” you replied, a hint of exhaustion in your voice. “hm.. wanna grab an ice cream?” he suggested, knowing how much you loved ice cream during warm days like this. “i’d love it. i was craving ice cream yesterday, you know me so well taesan!” a small smile formed on taesan’s lips, his cheeks getting a little redder than they should. “let me tell the group chat, sunoo wanted to try the new ice cream shop near the train station”. just like that, the boy’s smile quickly faded, the opportunity to spend some alone time with you completely lost. “sure, why not.” he said, defeated.

you waited for your friends in front of the ice cream shop, checking your phone while waiting. “y/n! sorry for being late” you heard sunoo’s voice calling for you. you lifted your gaze, only to find him accompanied by riki, a small grin on his face. “today i met riki at the pool! i thought it would be cool for him to join us and maybe meet some new people!” sometimes you hated how sweet and kind sunoo was. “yeah, we know each other” you could easily find a hint of amusement in his voice, it made you want to punch his pretty face. “wow! i didn’t know that! how come?” sunoo looked genuinely surprised by the sudden revelation. “he’s my neighbor, and i met him at the summer camp” you quickly cleared his doubts, your annoyance showing in both your tone and your expression. once the rest of your friends joined you, you all went for your ice creams.

you were all having a walk in the park nearby, eating your delicious ice creams. riki was surrounded by ningning, sunoo and beomgyu, who wanted to know more about him and about the reason he moved from japan to the small town you all lived in. you were walking slower than them, right by taesan’s side.

“i don’t like him” he said, looking at riki talking and making your friends laugh so loudly. “oh thank god you’re sane, taesan! it looks like he all brainwashed them into thinking he’s that guy. i can’t stand him” taesan could only laugh at your words, looking at you fondly.

“you’re a dancer? wow! our y/nnie is in the dance team!” ningning exclaimed, turning to face you and making them copy her action. “oh, is that so?” riki slightly tilted his head to watch you, mentally noting that information. “yeah..” the sudden attention on you made you feel a bit overwhelmed, especially with riki’s gaze burning on your skin. taesan could feel your discomfort and gently placed his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it ever so softly. “it’s getting late, why don’t we call it a day guys?” you mentally thanked taesan for suggesting that and, as everyone agreed, you hugged your friends goodbye (minus riki). taesan held you tighter than everyone else, you really liked his hugs. “y/n, i can walk yo-“ he was interrupted by riki’s voice, right behind the two of you. “y/n, let’s walk home together, since we live in the same neighborhood and we have dinner together, don’t we?” his smirk never left his lips as he pronounced those words.

you sighed, breaking the hug with taesan and giving him an apologetic look. “my mom invited him and his family over, you know, to get to know them better” you explained, receiving an understanding nod by taesan, immediately followed by a glare towards riki.

you spent almost the entire time in silence, leading the way to your house, you didn’t want to talk to him, you were saving yourself for the long dinner that was awaiting you.

“you missed me?” riki tried to get your attention, quickening his steps to be by your side. “sure, i’m so happy to have you here!” you faked your enthusiasm about the whole situation. “oh, c’mon. i know you missed my little pranks! you were always so happy to see me at camp, weren’t you?” he slyly replied, playing with a strand of your hair, before you slapped his hand away. “i would rather light myself up than spend more then 10 minutes in your presence” you glared at him, clearly not having it. “well, you better prepare your lighter, ‘cause i’m not leaving you alone!” he said, ruffling your hair and sticking his tongue out, to mock you. you loudly sighed, fastening your steps to reach your house and get over with this stupid dinner.

your and his parents were passionately discussing about their lives and their jobs, occasionally referring to you and riki, asking which hobbies or sports did you like. riki was seated in front of you, he wouldn’t leave you alone even while you two were in front of your parents. he kept kicking your leg under the table, which you gladly returned, not so lightly as his ones.

“y/n, why don’t you show riki your room?” your dad suggested, once you all finished eating. you rolled your eyes and complied his request, even though you just wanted him to go home and leave you alone, at least today.

riki followed you to your room, looking around him and studying this little piece of you. it really reflected your personality. bright colors, stuffed animals and lots of music cds. riki sat on your bed, without asking your permission. “this room suits you so much” riki spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence. he took one of your stuffed animals and looked at it. it was a white bunny, with a pink ribbon on its head. he brought it near your face and smiled, finding it very similar to you. “it looks like you” he softly spoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth. you took the bunny out of his hands, hugging it to your chest. “don’t touch my stuff, weirdo.” you said while sitting on your desk chair, while controlling every move of his.

he shook his head, his smile never leaving his lips. “you know, i actually missed you. i thought i wouldn’t have been able to see you anymore, but i guess the universe is on my side huh” you rolled your eyes again, his words sounding so sarcastic to you, you didn’t even bother to believe him. “well i didn’t, i was so happy when the camp ended, not seeing your stupid face was a blessing to me”. you spurted out, glaring at him as you saw him getting up and closer to you. “you really didn’t miss me? not even a little bit?” he placed his hands on the armrests, caging you, and getting closer to your face. you tried your best to sustain his eye contact, not backing off. “not even a little bit” you whispered, your attempts of playing it cool betrayed by your red cheeks. riki laughed at your expression, finally getting up and sitting on your bed once again. “you should see your face right now! you look like a tomato!” he wouldn’t stop laughing, his boxy smile clearly showing and his hands find their place on his belly. “oh shut up!” you screamed at him, throwing him something you found on your desk, but it didn’t stop him from laughing.

while you were trying your best to make riki stop laughing, you heard his mom calling for him, a sign that they were about to go home. you smiled at the realization, kicking him off of your bed and receiving a grunt in response. you happily escorted him to your front door, where his parents were waiting for him. you looked at him with a smirk, happy that after today, you would be able to at least try to avoid him. also, next week you would go to your beach house with your friends, so you wouldn’t have to see him for a whole week!

you had talked too soon.

“honey, i already talked with riki’s parents, why don’t you invite him to our beach house, since he knows your friends now, i’m sure it’ll be fun!” your mother spoke with her usual happy tone, while smiling at the nishimuras.

your jaw fell open, but you quickly closed it because you didn’t want to give a show in front of riki’s parents. you were devastated, your mythical plan to avoid riki was destroyed in less than 30 seconds.

the tall boy, on the other hand, lit up when he heard your mother's suggestion, his smirk finding his way again on his face. “thank you so much ms! i’m sure we’ll have a lot of fun.” his words were directed to your mom, but his gaze never left your eyes.

and with that, your neighbors left your house, leaving you in complete despair. the universe was clearly on riki’s side.

before you knew it, the day of your awaited little vacation arrived and you were rushing out of your house with your suitcase in hand, while your mother was throwing you a thousand questions about whether you brought all you needed and so. you reassured her with an exasperated smile lingering on your lips, hugging her tightly. at the same time, almost comically, the same situation was happening in front of the nishimura’s house, with his mom scolding him about something you couldn’t really understand. when riki saw you, he used it as an opportunity to escape from his mother, waving to her while running towards you. “good morning ms, y/n.” he flashed his charming smile while greeting both your mother and you. he was wearing a black tank top, showing his biceps — who apparently became bigger and stronger over the summer — and some bermuda jeans. you cursed yourself for thinking that an annoying boy like him could be so attractive at the same time.

while he happily chatted with your mother, the minivan you guys rented for this vacation appeared at the end of the road, quickly making its way in front of your house. taesan got out from the driver seat to greet both you and your mother, while throwing a not-so-excited nod of the head towards riki. he helped with your luggage, carefully securing it in the car trunk with the other suitcases. while he did so, you looked into the van to greet your friends who were excitedly smiling and waving at you. you couldn’t help but notice how the last two free seats were at the back of the van, leaving you to sit with the irritating boy who was probably thinking the same thing, by the way he was grinning at you. “can i sit in the front with you?” you asked taesan, turning to face him with the puppiest eyes you could ever make. “sur-” taesan was interrupted by beomgyu, who so happened to hear your question and stated that “he would get car sick if he didn’t seat in the front”, leaving you to just accept your fate and go sit in the back, followed by riki.

you were wearing your earphones, enjoying the notes of some sabrina carpenter’s song while you looked outside the window. you decided to do so after your friends scolded you and riki for bickering and “disturbing the peace” as sunoo dramatically declared with a side eye. you turned to quickly glance at the boy next to you who seemed to have calmed down, his head relaxed against the headrest while his hair fell prettily over his face, framing it as if it was painted by some extraordinary artist who was struck by divine inspiration. you probably were too lost in your thoughts to notice him open his eyes, meeting your own, with an amused smirk plastered across his face.

“you know,” he started speaking, his voice low as the others, aside from taesan who was busy driving, were fast asleep. “for someone who swears to hate me, you do stare a lot” he finished, moisturizing his lower lip with his tongue before slightly chewing on it, something you learned to be a habit of his, but that didn’t fail to make your gaze fall to his lips whenever he did that. you scoffed, diverting your gaze from his grin to the seat ahead, a warm feeling creeping up your neck for being called out so suddenly. “as if,” you muttered, your expression showing disgust as well as embarrassment. “i was just looking at the way you’re drooling, it’s gross”. lame. so lame, but it was the first thing that came to mind at that moment.

you expected him, or rather hoped, to feel uncomfortable and not talk to you for the rest of the ride, but that didn’t seem the case, since he was smirking and leaning closer. “yeah? thanks for telling me” he whispered, trying to wipe off the non-existent drool from his lips, obviously failing. “care to help me?” he continued, his face barely an inch from your own, so close that you could feel his warm breath caressing your lips. you were taken aback by his reaction and the proximity between the two of you. the thought of closing the distance — of feeling his soft and plump lips on yours — was intrusive and unwelcome, and you shook it off with a shudder of irritation, startled out of your own imagination. you glared at him and suppressed a groan, turning to face the window once again, leaving a satisfied riki beside you.

the long car ride finally came to an end, the van pulling up in the driveway and parking in front of the front door, to easily deal with the suitcases. as you got out of the car, stretching your arms and taking a long breath, you got struck by endless memories of your past summers in that exact house. the last time you spent a vacation there was when you were twelve, given that your parents wanted to explore the world, so coming back after so long truly felt like a jump in the past.

everyone started sorting out their belongings in their designated rooms, you and ningning, beomgyu and taesan and lastly, sunoo and riki. the group reunited in the living room after a while, deciding on what to do.

“i’m starving. we didn’t even stop somewhere to eat!” sunoo complained, ningning and beomgyu agreeing with him. taesan and you looked at each other, smiling fondly as you two were the chefs of the group. “fine, but since we’re cooking, we decide the menu,” you stated, causing your friends to laugh and nod, while taesan stared lovingly at your face, looking forward to spending some time alone with you.

or so he thought.

riki didn’t leave the two of you alone for the entire time, coming up with stupid remarks such as “oh, so you put salt in that?” or “my mother makes this differently”. your eye was twitching, anger boiling within you as the boy kept irritating you in every single way possible, but you decided to brush it off, since you didn’t want to ruin your dear vacation. taesan, on the other hand, tried to ignore riki’s presence completely, focusing on preparing lunch and engaging in small talks with you, often interrupted by the urge to curse the japanese boy.

the kitchen was warm, filled with the aroma of pasta sauce and the soft hiss of boiling water. you were focused on stirring the sauce, when a stray splatter landed on your cheek. you were too engrossed in your task to notice, but taesan did.

“y/n, here..” he mumbled, while his hand hesitantly reached towards your face, a quiet and shy smile tugging at his lips. just as his fingers were about to brush your cheek—

“catch!”

a cloth smacked into your face, cutting off the moment as taesan reluctantly stepped back.

“what the fuck?!” you yelled, snatching the cloth off your face and glaring at the culprit, who was leaning on the counter for support because of how hard he was laughing. “hey! i was just trying to help you!” he defended himself, dodging the cloth that you had thrown right back at him. he stuck his tongue out at you before taking off across the kitchen. “you’re so dead riki!” you growled, completely forgetting about the pasta and chasing after him, the two of you running around the island of the kitchen while bickering loudly.

taesan witnessed the moment and sighed softly, returning to the stove with a defeated smile, making sure that the sauce didn’t burn.

after consuming the delicious meal made by you and (mainly) taesan, you all decided to go play in the large pool sitting in the middle of your courtyard, gently prepared by one of your neighbors before your arrival. you rushed to change into a lilac bikini, one of your favorites which really complimented your body and skin, grabbed sunscreen and a beach towel, and made your way to the pool, where sunoo and beomgyu were chattering animatedly about god knows what. you decided to not get involved and to neatly put your towel on one of the sun loungers before applying sunscreen on your smooth skin.

it didn’t take long for the others to come down, one by one, the last of them being riki. you stood up, sunscreen in hand, with the intention of catching ningning before she could dodge her last favorite task: applying the damn protection. but your steps faltered when riki walked into your view, wearing bright red swimming trunks that clung lowly at his waist, just enough to make a statement. the sunlight caught on his skin, highlighting the sharp lines of his defined abs as if they were carved by gods. you would never admit it, but the sight caused your mind to blank for a second too long, causing you to trip over one of the sun lounger’s legs. you were already imagining your face splattered on the floor and you closed your eyes, waiting for the moment to occur.

but it didn’t.

taesan caught you just in time, his hands holding the flesh of your waist as if you would disappear from him in a blink of an eye. you stabilized yourself, your own hand finding its place on his chest, catching your breath from the scare of the situation. “are you okay? are you hurt somewhere?” the boy asked, scanning over your face in search of any sign of discomfort or pain, but he didn’t find anything if not a soft smile tugging at your lips. “i’m okay, thank you. that was a good catch!” you exclaimed, finally interrupting the proximity between you and your best friend. you didn’t catch the slight look of disappointment in his eyes, since a sharp pull from the side sent you stumbling forward, losing all your balance. the cold shock of water engulfed you before you could process what had happened. you understood everything as soon as you heard riki’s loud ass laugh, which was then accompanied by ningning and sunoo’s ones.

you emerged from the water, freeing your vision by your wet hair just to see riki’s smirk, who was tilting his head slightly, his gaze fixed on you and how the water drops caressed your face and neck. “how is it? cold?” he teasingly asked, raising his eyebrows as he scrunched at the edge of the swimming pool. he was expecting you to start yelling and cursing at him, so when he heard your soft laugh and saw you slowly get closer, he was caught off guard. the sound was soft and warm, distracting riki enough to not notice your hand sneaking to his arm, giving you the opportunity to yank him forward, sending him tumbling into the water with a loud splash. “see it for yourself, asshole,” you spat out, laughing when he emerged with a surprised expression, slicking back his hair with a hand to regain his vision. riki blinked once, twice before biting back a grin, lounging towards you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. you shrieked, swimming as fast as you could to get away from the menace trying to get you. your other friends decided to join the mess, starting a water-war, everyone vs. everyone.

as everyone agreed on a truce, beomgyu came up with the idea of playing chicken fighting. it was a classic among your group of friends, so everyone excitedly approved. you paired up with taesan, as you always did, claiming to be the “unbeatable duo” who always kicked your friends’ asses. the first match was ningning and riki versus sunoo and beomgyu, resulting in sunoo dramatically falling in the water and blaming it on his teammate’s horrible balance.

now, it was taesan and your turn against ningning and riki. your teammate immersed himself enough to let you sit on his shoulders, securing you immediately after by gripping the soft skin of your thighs with his hands firmly but yet tenderly. you smiled at ningning, high fiving her while wishing her good luck. on the other hand, taesan and riki were glaring at each other, competitive glints in their eyes. riki squeezed ningning’s knees to grab her attention, mouthing “we have to win”.

the two teams aligned and when given the start by sunoo, the fight started. you lunged forward, reaching for ningning’s arms to unbalance her, but her movements were quicker than you expected as she swayed slightly, gripping riki’s hair for support and countered with a push toward you. “riki, stop moving!” she yelled, laughing as he tried to stabilize himself under her. taesan adjusted his footing, keeping you steady as you pushed back against ningning. for a moment, you thought you had the upper hand, a smirk lingering on your lips as you already could picture the unsatisfied expression on riki’s face. you managed to grab her wrist, throwing her off balance, but riki was quick to grip her legs tightly, preventing her from falling. she leaned back just enough to recover and swung back, a smile on her face as she mouthed a “you’re going down”. she locked onto your arms, forcing you to shift your weight to maintain your balance. taesan took a step back to stabilize you, but that only gave riki an opening, splashing water to throw you off. ningning gave a final shove, and with riki’s forward momentum, the two of you toppled backwards. you surfaced with a gasp, spitting out pool water as the other two cheered.

riki turned around, water dripping from his hair as he prepared to mock you and tease you, but the words never came. his smile faltered, then vanished entirely. there you were, standing in taesan’s arms, laughing ever so lightly as he was delicately brushing some water off your eyes with his thumbs, a fond gaze filled with tenderness that riki recognized all too well. something in his chest tightened, hating how familiar that look was, reminding himself of how he found himself watching you when you weren’t looking in that exact way. ningning managed to snap him back from his thoughts by dragging him to beomgyu, saying how he was the problem since she always lost when she paired up with him. riki smiled at the friendly banter between the two, but he was distracted again by your laugh again, probably because of some joke taesan made. he looked away, his jaw tightening as he mentally scolded himself to get it together.

you kept tossing around in your shared bed with ningning, who fell asleep the moment she laid her head on the soft pillow. you smiled at how peaceful she looked, not recognizing the feeling of getting a good sleep in ages. in order to not wake her up with your moving around, you decided to get out of the room to go take some fresh hair on the balcony. that’s something you did quite often, given that your insomnia deprived you of your well deserved rest most nights. you lingered on the railing, chills surfacing at the underestimated cold hair at that time of the night. you closed your eyes, taking a long, deep breath and relishing in the slight breeze and complete silence of the night, relaxing your muscles.

“can’t sleep?” a deep voice came from behind you, startling you as you spun around, just to see riki standing by the door frame with his hands in the pockets of his oversized hoodie.

“fuck riki, you scared me!” you whisper yelled, glaring at him as you turned your back at him again, watching the calm sea in the distance. you expected him to laugh or respond with a witty comeback, but he just walked next to you, silently staring at the scenery in front of you two. it was weird of him, so you quickly glanced at him, his side of the face caressed by the soft moonlight, making him look even more handsome. the two of you fell in a comfortable silence, which didn’t last long when riki turned his head to look at you.

“are you and taesan together?” he asked, not even a bit of amusement or sarcasm in his voice. you choked on your own saliva by the sudden question, turning to look at him with knotted eyebrows. “wha-what? of course not! he’s my best friend!” you explained a little bit too excitedly, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. you thanked the gods above for the poor lighting in that given moment. riki simply hummed, acknowledging your response with a nod of the head, while he dragged his gaze from your face to the floor. you decided to not investigate his strange behavior, opting to just take advantage of this moment of tranquility.

you mentally cursed yourself for forgetting to bring your hoodie, the cold hair making you freeze. you started caressing your arms with your hands, kind of hugging yourself to warm you up. you looked at riki, expecting him to have some sort of reaction to you freezing to death and when he felt your eyes on his side of the face, he spared you a glance, arching an eyebrow. “what? you’re expecting me to give you my hoodie? go get your own.” he countered, shaking his head with a lopsided smile. you scoffed, of course he couldn’t be nice to you, it wasn’t in riki’s style. “why are you always so fucking annoying?” you muttered, turning around to go back to your room but before you could, he threw his hoodie in your face. what’s up with him and tossing things at you? you were tempted to just leave and go get your own, but you wore the sweater without saying anything, your nostrils being immediately filled with his scent, making you a little light weighted.

“what did you just say?” he asked, his voice low and sharp, sending a shiver down your spine. before you could respond, he stepped closer to you, caging you between him and the balcony railing. his hands gripped the cold metal on either side of you, boxing you in. you tilted your head up, meeting his dark and unreadable gaze, making your heart pound fast in your chest. “w-why are you always so annoying..?” you repeated, your confidence completely lost as the proximity between the two of you made you nervous, more than you should be. riki smirked at the shift in your demeanor, his smirk widening as he looked into your eyes and leaned even closer. “make me stop.” he simply said, his warm breath caressing your lips, as if it was inviting you to close the distance.

your eyes started flickering from his eyes to his lips, looking painfully inviting. your hands creeped up his chest, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt firmly and slowly pulling him closer. your lips were almost brushing against his, closing your eyes as you were going to finally press then against his—

“riki! here you are! i don’t know how to turn the a/c on, can you help—” sunoo barged on the balcony, immediately stopping on his tracks when he saw riki getting yanked away by you. his eyes narrowed, looking between the two of you, noticing how you were wearing the hoodie he saw on riki just an hour before, the situation too weird to be overlooked. but before he could indulge in asking what was going on, you wished goodnight to the boys and sprinted to your room, leaving the two guys in the breeze of the night. sunoo observed the taller boy, noticing a frustrated look on his face as he nonchalantly walked into the house to go turn the a/c on.

if you couldn’t sleep before, now resting was completely out of the question, your mind kept replaying the previous moment again and again, no matter how hard you tried not to. you sighed and closed your eyes, knowing it was going to be one of the longest nights ever.

the next few days, you forced yourself to ignore and avoid riki at any cost. he tried to talk to you, to get you to even spare a glance his way, but nothing. it felt like he was invisible to you. you spent time with taesan, who seemed relieved, but you didn’t quite understand why. you also engrossed yourself in long skincare sessions with sunoo and ningning, who seemed to have a whole suitcase filled with only beauty products. you tried to keep yourself busy, to stop yourself from thinking about riki and what had happened that night, but you could still feel his lips brush against yours every time you closed your eyes. it didn’t help having his burning gaze on you either, especially when you were with taesan. you knew that you couldn’t ignore him forever, but that’s the only rational and logical choice you could make, too scared of what could happen and of your own feelings.

it was the last night of the vacation, so you all decided to spend it at the beach, just walking around and reminiscing about the fun memories you created together. the others were ahead, their laughter and chatter blending with the sound of the waves crashing in the distance. you were lost in your thoughts, walking slower, your feet sinking slightly in the sand with every step you took. a sudden touch on your wrist snapped you out of your head. you stopped on your tracks and turned around, startled to find riki. his grip was gentle but firm, you couldn’t really decipher what he was feeling, but he surely wasn’t happy, and you felt guilt growing inside your chest.

“y/n.” your name rolled off his tongue in a way that made it feel heavier than usual, his eyes piercing through yours as he seemed determined to talk to you that night. “talk to me,” he softly spoke, getting closer to you as the lively chitchat of your friends faded in the background. “please,” his tone was pleading, almost vulnerable. his eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the answer to an unspoken question. a sigh of relief escaped his lips when you nodded, understanding that you couldn’t just escape from your ‘problems’ and that, sooner or later, you would have had to face them.

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable that night,” he started, leaving your wrist but keeping you close to him, as if you would just vanish if he stood too far from you. “i tried giving you space, but i can’t stand you ignoring me. i crave your attention constantly, i want you to look at me, think of me. y/n, i want you to like me. just as much as i like you”. your eyes widened at his last sentence, your heart started pounding against your ribcage. he liked you? all this time, he had feelings for you? you tore your eyes off of his, panic flickering across your face, your mind and your heart fighting over what you really wanted.

riki let out a shaky breath, mistaking your silence and your shocked expression as rejection. “i probably chose the wrong approach, but it was the only way to have your attention. i know you don’t feel the same, but please just tell me wh—” you interrupted him by crashing your lips on his, cupping his cheeks with your hands to pull him close to you. riki froze for a split second, his eyes widening in shock, but as soon as realization hit him— the girl he had fallen for so hard was kissing him— he instantly melted into the kiss, his hands finding your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

you broke the kiss, your lips still tingling from the kiss, looking into his eyes with a soft smile. “you surely talk too much, riki.” you spoke, resting your forehead against his while looking into his eyes, finally seeing that fond gaze he always had when looking at you. “if this is your way of shutting me up, then i don’t think i’ll ever close this mouth” riki teasingly replied, bringing one hand to your face, his thumb grazing your plump lower lip with a delicacy you never thought he could be capable of.

you shook your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips as he looked at you with a lovesick smile. he vowed in that moment to make it his mission to see that smile everyday. he closed the distance again, his lips met yours in a sweet, unhurried kiss which was a silent confession of everything he couldn’t put into words.

you guess that, after all, the universe might have been on your side all along.

[canthelpit0]

Silent

Pairing: Matt x reader

Wordcount: 1.8k +

Summary: you’ve always quietly watched the triplets, silently wishing you could be a part of a group like them. Until you and Matt talk for the first time…

Warnings: selective mutism, anxiety, crying, angst, praise, no use of y/n, no oc

(Disclaimer: I’m not mute in any way. This was a request from an anon that I accidentally deleted. Hope you like it ! Requests are open)

I developed selective mutism pretty early on. My mom says that I didn’t talk even back in kindergarten.

But it’s been years now.

I can talk, and I can’t shut the fuck up for the life of me. I talk a lot, even have full conversations with myself.

Just not at school, or around new people. God, especially not in school.

It’s not like I want to be the ‘ weird’ mute kid. I would love to talk and make friends, I just physically can’t open my mouth and talk.

It even took months for me to utter simple words to my therapist, tho by this point I’ve known her for years and I’m pretty comfortable.

There are these triplets in my grade. We’ve always gone to the same school, but I don’t think they ever noticed me.

Well the first time I noticed them was in first grade, because there were three of them. Of corse my six year old self didn’t understand the concept of multiples back then, and I really wanted to ask, and talk to them. I really thought they were cool.

The first time I interacted with any of them tho was when I was in fourth grade and Nick had asked to use my dark green pencil since he only had light green and needed both dark and light.

Back in fourth grade I wasn’t just selectively mute, but also really shy. So I’d just looked down and stared at the desk giving him a small nod.

In freshmen year I shared a class with Nick again, he asked me for a pen, wich I gave to him.

Despite not having talked to him once in my entire life, he remembered my name. Wich isn’t too shocking since we’ve always been around each other, I was just kinda in the shadows.

He actually gave me that pen back. Most other people would’ve forgotten and just taken it, but Nick didn’t and I appreciated that.

I only ever interacted with Nick those two times. despite sharing a few classes with both Chris and Matt over the years, I’ve probably never even held eye contact with either of them.

I’ve been watching everyone.

Bullying isn’t really a thing. Sure there were some hurtful comments by jocks here and there but it really wasn’t as bad as in the movies.

Besides I think most people forget i even exist so they don’t even bother bullying me.

I’ve had my eye on Matt for a while. Not in a weird way. But Matt seems to pretty obviously have anxiety too. I don’t know if he’s open about it, I’m not in his friend circle.

But every time I’m feeling overwhelmed and we’re in the same room, I unconsciously glance at him to see if he feels the same or if I’m just going crazy.

Chris seems to be the loudest and most extroverted one. And while yes, Nick seems pretty extroverted too, Chris seems more… random? Bold?

I sulk in the back of the class my lips pulled into a tight line as I try to get myself together.

There is literally no reason for me to be feeling like this. Honestly no one has tried to talk to me today, nothing happened, I just feel so overwhelmed.

I raise my hand just slightly. I make eye contact with the teacher. Mrs. Evans. I literally love her, she’s so kind.

Her son is apparently mute too.

When I was diagnosed with selective mutism they thought it’d be a great idea to make me learn sign language just in case, and that’s just what I did.

Since Mrs. Evans son is mute, her son, as well as her and her husband also learned sign language.

So whenever I needed something I could sign to her. Not that I wouldn’t be too embarrassed too.

Our eyes lock. Everyone was working on some paper I should also be doing, but I’m too busy hyperventilating.

I let my hand drop on my desk and glance at the door quietly asking if I can go to the nurses office since I was too tired and ashamed to sign it to her.

She gives me a pitying smile but nods. I hate pity, but then again that’s better than getting told im faking.

I look around the class of students. I get up, as quiet as I can. I pack up my little stuff and quietly walk to the front of the class. I nod in appreciation and walk outside.

I stare at the ground while I walk down the hallway. I sigh.

I feel my eyes start to water and I bite the inside of my cheek.

Honestly I should probably go to the nurses office to get checked out, just so I can leave. But I don’t think I can handle communicating with another human.

I feel like I’m about to break down. I continue to walk down the hallway clutching the straps of my bag harshly.

I consider if driving home even is a good idea seeing as I’m about to have a mental breakdown. Or-

Suddenly I bump into someone.

I close my eyes trying not to cry right then. I don’t know who I bumped into but I want to apologize, but I know that I can’t, and since I don’t know who I bumped into I don’t know if it’s someone who’ll be mean about it or-

I’m taken off guard by a gentle brush to my upper arm.

“You’re good, it’s okay” I hear a soft voice say. I can feel my lip quivering, I feel like if I open my eyes the tears brimming at my waterline will actually fall.

“can you open your eyes?” It sounds more like a question, and that voice sounds painfully familiar but I can’t quite place it.

I want to tell him that I can’t, that I’ll cry if I do and I’ll feel even more embarrassed. But my curiosity takes over me.

So I slightly blink open my eyes. I don’t open my eyes fully, just enough to see the person through my tears.

It’s Matt, looking down at me all concerned.

I blink my eyes open. at the sight I watch his expression relax just slightly.

He himself looks overwhelmed, and honestly I don’t know if it’s because of how I’m acting, or if he had a shitty day himself.

“You okay?” He sighs slightly. I watch as he licks his lips and swallows thickly.

I take in another deep breath trying to calm down. I nod just slightly, but while I do the tears in my eyes finally spill.

I feel my hot tears run down my face. Matt’s eyes immediately widen and his mouth opens slightly like he thinks it’s his fault.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, no please don’t cry.” He holds up his hands in front of my face as if he wanted to wipe my tears away but was holding himself back because he didn’t know my boundaries.

He looked miserable, like he was about to cry himself. And I just know that something this wouldn’t have him emotional like this on a normal day. At least I don’t think it would. But he seemed to be overwhelmed as well.

I scrunch my nose slightly sniffling in response. I glance back up at him and the sorrow in his eyes makes me want to sink into myself. I breathe out shakily.

Before I know it I’m bringing my hands up to my face and covering it. I tilt my head forward trying to stop crying, because crying in the school halls is just pathetic.

“I’m sorry. Fuck- can I touch you?” I hear his frantic voice. I appreciate that he asked first. I want a hug, but then again I don’t know Matt. But he just seems so genuine.

I overthink not responding to his question. My thoughts spiral at the sound of the sweet nothings and apologies leaving his mouth, only being back round noise.

Matt seems to notice that I’m starting to spiral. I feel his hand tenderly touch my wrist. I flinch slightly, and as soon as I do I feel him retract his hand.

Everybody deals with anxiety differently, some people like to be physically grounded others liked to be comforted some other way and I just knew that Matt was trying to figure out what to do without overstepping.

I’d tell him that it’s okay, or that he can hug me, but I literally can’t speak and I feel too embarrassed to let him see my teary face.

“I’m sorry, I’m-“ I hear Matt let out a breath. I know an anxiety breath when I hear one, he is panicking.

I decide to bite the bullet, what’s the worst that can happen. I look up slightly and peak through my fingers.

His hands are up and frozen. He looks almost frantic, Matt looks like the only way he knows how to ground me is by hugging me or something, but he seems unsure if that’s okay.

Despite myself I let out a little nod. Matt lets out another breath but this time he actually touches me, and I don’t flinch.

He holds my wrist and gently pulls my hands off of my face.

I let out a shaky sigh. I can’t help it when I let my head fall forward.

“It’s okay.” He says sweetly under his breath. He puts his hand under my chin as he picks my face up. Our eyes lock. I see the way Matt is also crying, tears running down his face too and I relax just a little.

He never seemed like the type to make fun of someone for crying, but especially not now.

“You wanna go to my car?” He says softly, not in a way where he is forcing me to do anything, but rather offering.

And honestly as upset as i am I have to weigh my options. Would I rather cry in the school hallways or in Matt’s car?

The best option would be to go to the bathroom, but Matt wouldn’t be able to come with, and honestly I would feel too bad leaving him alone at this point.

So I nod.

I feel Matt’s arm go around my shoulders as he hugs me for a moment. He turns me, and starts walking in a way where his arm is still around my shoulder keeping me close to him.

We walk out to the parking lot. I watch as Matt unlocks the car and opens the door for me to enter.

And by this point, if I go out this way so be it…

Before i can even register Matt is also getting into the backseat next to me.

We just look at each other for a moment. He breathes out another anxiety sigh.

“You want a hug?” And with that I don’t really know if he’s asking for me, or to comfort himself. But regardless I nod.

I feel his arms come around me and I sink into the feeling of his hug.

I’m uncertain if by tomorrow he’ll act like this all never happened, or if he’ll try to get to know me, because I’ve been wanting to know him for a while and I would more then gladly let him.

Masterlist

A/n: I know this is really short and I’ve been uploading a lot of angst recently. But I’ve been feeling sad, and every time I do write smut it’s for Kinktober. Soon you’ll get smut tho. Also this ended up a lot like crybaby. <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life

[presidentsdaughter]

LIMERENCE !

ft. jimmy x fem!reader

tags. implied/reference rape, failed rape recovery, talk of incest and underage but not in regards to reader, public humiliation, obsession on readers part, sort of stalking, one mention of suicide, slight boot kink, just humiliation tbh..

note. waow.. don’t know what this is.. unedited and kind of sucks.. rbs n feedback always appreciated. ignore any typos!

What do you do when your rapist is the most handsome man you’ve ever had the pleasure of fucking?

He wasn’t ugly or fat and he wasn’t the tallest, but everyone has their shortcomings.

You feel like a total fraud, picking at the lint on your sweater as you listen to a girl bawl her eyes out while recounting the time her father raped her in the back of his pick-up after school.

The woman before her was gang-raped by her delinquent boyfriend’s lackeys, the man to her left is the victim of his middle-school teacher, another lady pushed out two rape babies from her deadbeat husband before she managed to get away from him.

They’re all ghosts; beaten down, so broken, and you are you.

The same as before, if not a little bit better.

In fact, you’ve stopped getting those night terrors where all your teeth fall out.

You got raped and everything just felt right.

Like he knocked something into place, dug so deep into your cunt he rewired your brain.

Your therapist said this would be a chance at community, some place to bring you comfort, like-minded individuals who have gone through all the same things you have. Circle time for victims of brutal, life-ruining—life-changing rape, you should fit right in.

But you have never felt more out of place.

Pick-up girl can’t continue, she’s choking on her words, they come out her throat like the creak in an old floorboard. The box of Kleenex is significantly lighter.

“We can move on,” says a lady with kind eyes, shifting on her chair to face your way.

They all look at you with their haunted, dark eyes, gaping black chasms that lead right to fucking hell. God. You’re going straight to hell.

“Erm..” You squeeze your hands into fists. You unstick your thighs from the plastic chair. You count to ten and try not to think about how nice he looked on top of you.

“It’s okay, honey, take your time.” She places her hand on your knee. You think of him. His hand on your thigh, squeezing your tender flesh until it came right off the bone, the way it inched up your skirt.

You go stiff and she notices, gasping softly like she has done something wrong. And she has. She’s turned you the fuck on, the warmth of her encouragement going straight to your cunt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about—“

“No, it’s okay,” you strain to get it out, avoiding her eyes like sympathy is a highly contagious disease of some kind.

They’re all feeling bad for you when you have finally started to feel good about yourself.

Man, you suck.

“He was my boyfriend.” Your voice cracks for dramatic effect, hold the applause. You wish he was your boyfriend. “He did it almost everyday.” You wish he did it everyday. “It would be after I came back from work…” It would be great stress relief after your Friday shift, it’s nearing Christmas and everybody is crushed into the stores like cattle in free stall barns.

You open and close your mouth, unsure of where to go from here, so you stand up and the chair screeches against the ground. “Sorry… I’m so sorry—I need to go.”

You leave and it looks real.

Like you are a real victim with a real story and very real feelings. The type you see on TV, dressed in white, trembling like lambs, abhorred by the notion of anything sexual. Squeaky clean like you should be.

For just a moment you feel normal. Your therapist is not eyeballing you like a mildly fascinating organism in her Petri dish. Your friends don’t give you a funny look when you say you’re fine—great actually. Your mom is not hanging her head in secondhand shame when you refuse to file a police report, disturbed when she unearths your bloodied underwear beside the prayer book you keep tucked beneath your pillow, rosary nowhere to be found.

They mutter quietly amongst themselves.

Poor thing she can’t even speak about it, it must’ve been awful, I can’t even imagine what she went through, so young.

You can’t speak about it, you really can’t, you might start reciting wedding vows if you think about him longer than a second.

Your loneliness is like the crack in a China cup, fine and glossy on the outside but delicate from years stowed away in show cabinets, passed from bidder to bidder. He pressed golden lacquer into the seams of your fracture, put you back together like you were something worth holding, something to be used.

Stored away in your bag, a sacred place your mother has not yet invaded, is his work ID. You say his ordinary name like you’re uttering a prayer, you drag the jagged tip of your nail over his tiny photograph. His hair and beard are longer than you remember, he’s handsome underneath the scruff, a strong nose and a broad chest. The collar of his company-issued jumpsuit is half popped, and he’s scowling at the camera like it’s an inconvenience.

There’s no phone number on it and part of you is glad you won’t have to call into the company, requesting Jimmy like The Pony Express is a sex hotline and he’s their newest, youngest, bustiest doll.

You wait outside the warehouse instead. It’s a big old thing, the last of its kind, muted in colour, blending into the silver skies. You look at the horse who sits on top like a weathervane on a cathedral, oversized features and the stomach of a pudgy toddler.

Every day from two to eight you circle the block a few times, take a window seat in the cafe opposite until the staff begin to stack tables and chairs, sit at the bus stop beside the same lot of people who wonder why you never get on.

The horse watches from above, wide eyes glowing in the dark beside the moon, unsettlingly reverent, sparkling with diamond-sharp logic, like it knows something you do not, a silent witness to your dog-like devotion.

One day, you leave work early and find a truck parked in front of the hulking, metal mass. Two men are unloading it, one is old and the other is blond, but they don’t matter to you. A third steps out of the cab, your breath gets caught in your throat, scared your exhale might blow him away.

You don’t look when you cross the street.

“Excuse me?” You call out, you’re sure he hears you, but he’s choosing to ignore it. “Are you Jimmy?” You ask once you're close enough to go unnoticed.

“Depends,” he says in that voice you have heard so many times in your dreams, rough like the serrated edge of a knife. “Who’s asking?” He hasn’t looked up once, disinterested and completely unaffected while you burn just being near him.

There is a woman near those other two men, leant down amidst some crates, a clipboard pressed to her chest. Her face is white and her nose is long like the snout on a hound dog, her charcoal eyes are sad and droopy.

You wonder if he has touched her like he has touched you. Either she just has one of those faces or she can take your slot at circle time. She would fit right in with the rest of them. Herbivores hiding in long grass.

“I’m asking.” You clear your throat, he looks up at you with his lidded eyes and you don’t look away, openly admiring the colour of them, how they look in the sunlight. There are a million things you want to ask him.

Was it just me? Was I your first and only? Have you been thinking about me? Do you want a summer wedding or a winter one? Vanilla or chocolate cake? We could do floral arrangements in your favourite colour.

He seems to grow slightly antsy when you continue to stare, Adam’s apple bulging out of his throat when he swallows. He looks like he’s started to feel sick, like he’s waiting outside the principal’s office after breaking a window.

It’s different, he’s different in the day. Long gone is his barbed tongue and wolf-like smile. “What do you want?”

You.

Your fingers toy with the rounded edges of his employee card, if you hand it to him now it’ll all be over.

“Listen,” Jimmy starts, lowering his voice, “if it’s something I did, I’m sorry.” Apprehension twists his mouth into a frown, and he doesn’t sound all that sorry. “But you can’t show up—“

“Here.” You fish his ID from your purse, reluctant to hand it over. His fingers don’t brush yours like you hoped and he seems all too eager to get rid of you.

“Thanks, cool,” he says with all the enthusiasm of a funeral celebrant, tucking it into his breast pocket for safekeeping, his disengagement is a knife in your chest. You’re a stain on a shirt he has no intention of cleaning.

“Yeah…” Does he not remember you? Is there nothing about you that is worth remembering? Were you not good? “Cool.” The longer you stand there the more likely it seems he’s going to grab a broom to chase you away. “Well, bye, Jimmy.” You blink at him sadly, expectantly, longingly. This is it.

You walk away and that was it. That was it. You’ll never see him again, you have no reason to be caught lurking outside the warehouse.

You start to think long and hard on your way home about the fuck is wrong with you.

Everyone is shaped by the sum of their exposures. A product of the people you meet, the enemies and friends you make, who you go home to. Every smile, every scowl, every bad habit is the reflection of another. But to be completely fucking honest, you think you’re just like this. The root of the problem is you, it stems from deep inside your very core, a fundamentally fucked up instinct that makes life a fucking inconvenience. It turns everything into a complication and that is why you’re like this.

God, you wonder what it would be like to wake up and think about normal things like normal people who do not have this constant flurry of wrongness whirling around inside of them. You want to go through life like you’re meant to be on earth, not like an alien species that crash-landed here and never managed to get out, unable to acclimatise to the human way, not like you’re a manufacturing defect.

You want to laugh at the right moment, you want to know what everyone else is thinking, you want to be raped so badly. Again and again and again. You can’t be normal if you can’t stop thinking about the most abnormal thing about you, that just defeats the fucking point.

Your friends think it is their fault for bringing you home that night, for letting you go home all on your own, for getting drunk and leaving you sober. They feel responsible for the best night of your life and you hate it. You hate that they don’t get it. You had a good time in your own right, they don’t need to feel guilty—Or maybe you need to start thinking how they do. Like normal people. They’re horrified when they’re supposed to be horrified. Their minds are tailored to the tastes of this world, yours is somewhere else, some rotten, tumultuous, toxic planet.

Therapy is supposed to be helping you learn how to be even slightly human, little by little, step by step. But you can’t take it in small doses, you need all of this wrongness gone at once like a decidual cast. It doesn’t make you lighter, it doesn’t put a pep in your step, it doesn’t do shit.

So you keep going to wait outside the Pony Express warehouse. You camp out in that cafe all day on days off from work. The staff know you by name, six holes punched in your reward card, special access to the staff bathrooms. You’re set for stalker life.

He never comes again, but you do everyday.

The nights are getting darker, stars bleed into the sky as the sun dims, the moon is larger than usual tonight and if you weren’t so taken by the brightness you would be quicker to notice the dark figure in your peripheral.

When you finally do, you think it’s the devil, cloaked in darkness like the devil probably should be. “Oh, it’s you.” You try to hide the smile in your voice as you watch him put a cigarette between his crooked lips.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He’s unbothered in tone, indifferent in manner. It would be flattering that he remembered you if he hadn’t said it like that.

“Do you remember me?”

“Yeah, from last week.” Jimmy’s eyes glow radioactive in the dark like tiger eyes when he lights his cigarette, the flame flickers and casts him uneven light, softening the right side of his face with a golden haze and plunging the left into shifting darkness. “You stalking me?”

“No!” You say all too quickly. “No, no… I study at the cafe opposite you.”

“Okay.” He was joking you think, making fun of you maybe, you wouldn’t be able to tell either way. “Studying the menu or what?”

That was a joke, that has to be a joke. It’s your cue to laugh so you force one out, it crackles unnaturally. “I wish, but I meant before that, do you remember me from before that?”

You look different under the street lamps, they do nothing for your skin, light pools unfavourably in every pore, the jewel-toned dress you picked out today must look washed out.

Jimmy’s lazy eyes rake up your body, and then he shakes his head slowly. “No.” Even to someone like you, it’s clear he has no interest in taking this conversation anywhere.

“It was in November, the beginning, I was on my way home, and it was late...” You should’ve done this at circle time. “You grabbed me and I let you take me, and then after you told me to walk down the block and call a cab, and I did.”

“Hm,” Jimmy shrugs, though you notice his hand trembling as he raises his cigarette to his lip, “nope, don’t remember that.”

Frustrated, you clench your fists, wondering what could jog his memory—Did he do it often? Nab a girl off the street corner so regularly that he didn’t remember a single one, faces all blurring together, the same hole with a different set of tits.

“Remind me again.”

“How?”

“Take off your jacket.” Jimmy’s cigarette gets crushed beneath his boot, he’s looking at you now. Really looking at you, and this is where it all goes pear-shaped. Your whole life is pear-shaped of course, but this is just fucking sad. You beg yourself to think it over, to think of the dozens of security cameras on this street alone. None of it seems too important when he’s here.

And then, you shrug your coat off your shoulders.

“Okay.” You’ve always been obedient because you have no reason to say no, you don’t care if he’s going to mug you, at least he’s talking to you now. At least he is looking at you.

“Think I’m gonna need to see more to know who you are,” he says, detached like there are a million better things he could be doing with his time, but he’s spending it with you. “Take off your dress.”

“What…” You’re shaking slightly in the cold, wind stings your cheeks and the tip of your fingers have started to ache.

“Take off your dress, I might know you.” Fair enough. He’d seen your ass more than your tits and your tits more than your face. It was forced into a flat pillow for three quarters of the night, between his thighs for the last quarter.

You take off your dress, edging it off your ankles. He drapes it over his arm - he’s got enough humanity to not leave your pretty clothes on the pavement.

It’s cold. The type of cold that makes your brain freeze, the type of cold that only Siberian Huskies and yetis enjoy.

And yet here you are in nothing but your cotton panties, t-shirt bra and boutique winter booties looking like the most expensive kerb crawler in all the world.

“Turn around,” Jimmy hums, his hand is cold but not as cold as you, tracing along your spine when you listen like a good girl.

From here, the horse is watching you. Seeing it all, cartoonish eyes forced in your direction. It’s late so the cars that whiz past have no intention of stopping, some houses have their lights on.

Humiliation prickles your skin, it could be the cold, but you don’t think the cold gets inside of you like this. What are you doing? What are you doing? What is mom going to think? What is dad going to do? What are they going to tell your family when you’re sectioned for Christmas?

”That’s good,” his voice comes out in a whisper, “take ‘em off and get on the ground.” Lukewarm hands slide over your hips, checking you over like a piece of meat.

“Okay,” you whisper back to him, and you’ve gone so far there’s nothing to lose, stepping out of your underwear and doing just as he says.

There’s no praise from Jimmy’s end and you don’t expect any. His stern face, his flat tone, it’s all unforgiving like this cold, hard sidewalk is on your hands and knees.

“Jesus, there something wrong with you?” He sounds surprised and you don’t know what you’ve done wrong. (You do know. You do know.) Isn’t this what he wanted? “Sorry,” Jimmy says, not sounding sorry at all, “I shouldn’t say that, you’re not all there.”

Your head isn’t entirely intact, and there is this worm hole that eats away at your insides, but you’re here. You’re here and you’re on the ground, on your knees with your cunt bared to him. Does he not see you?

The horse sees you, perpetually wide-eyed and forever watching.

Something cold, like the nose of a dog, presses against your pussy. It takes you a moment to figure out that it’s the toe of his boot, the leathery texture is wet almost, smooth and still textured, grainy. The cold is making it too hard to focus on the feeling of it nudging your swollen clit. You close your eyes and focus on anything but your hands burning on the ground, how the wind is going straight to your bones.

You’re going to make this worth it. You will. You’ve been wet for months and you won’t let it dry up so quickly, not when the cause of the leak is here to plug it up.

Just as you’re about to push back into him, grind your clit into the leather, show off how much you want him—He kicks you down, your body skids forward, elbows scraping on the cement. It’s painful, but you’re so cold, so shocked, so confused.

Quietly, you hear him under his breath. “What the fuck… Fuckin’ freak.” You don’t know if it’s in awe or disgust. He drops your coat and dress over the flat of your back, you scramble to put them on. “Why did you do that?” Jimmy asks, and he is looking at you like you’re crazy, like he’s disgusted.

You can’t tell if it’s a trick question. “Because you told me to.” It’s a simple answer, the only answer. Your chest heaves, teeth chattering as you stand on aching legs. God. It feels like your bones are fragmenting.

“Are you a dog?”

“No.” You check your pockets to find some loose change is missing.

“Then you didn’t have to do that, it’s not fuckin’ normal.”

Rape is not normal. And neither is asking seemingly nice, well-meaning girls to undress in sub-zero temperatures. But you don’t want to talk back, you don’t like to talk back, you don’t want to scare him off.

“Okay… Then, I’m sorry.”

“What…” His tone lilts in what might be confused laughter, everything you say is a twist or turn in a tangled thread he can’t quite follow. “Don’t say sorry, no, I don’t—I don’t know, just go home.”

“You’re not going to take me?” You gaze at him sadly. Wanting, yearning. “I think I’m going to kill myself tonight,” you proclaim softly, not because you want to make him feel bad, but because you don’t know what to do with yourself and he is distant enough to confide in.

“Alright,” Jimmy shrugs, he lights another cigarette, the smoke billows out of his thin lips, lined with the slightest smile. “Tell me how that goes.” Well, now you feel stupid and wish to take it back. Then, before he goes, he asks a little too casually, “Your dad touched you or something?”

“No…” You answer slowly, wondering if you should’ve said yes, if that was what he wanted to hear, gauging his reaction like you’ll be able to read it at all.

“Right.” He laughs, and his shoulders are still shaking in disbelief as he wanders into the dark like something out of a nightmare.

You look over to the horse, it tells you he’ll be back.

Considering he works there and all you thought the same, so you’ll be back alive and well.

[wolverigrl]

Hugh x reader.

Reader is a mom of two young kids, something like Pre-K and 4/5th grade. She gets her hopes too high thinking her ex husband will at least show up for the kids 1st day of school but they all get disappointed; Hugh as the gentleman/sweetest dad he is steps up and takes care of it making a surprise for them

Broken Promises

Hugh Jackman x f!reader

A/N: I hope I won't trigger someone's serious daddy issues like I did to me lmao. But seriously, I had fun writing this one, too!

Warnings: angst, some swearing here and there, mentions of unavailable parent

---------------------------------------------------

The house was unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon. Too quiet. I found myself pacing the living room again, eyeing the clock, then the door, and back to the clock. I had done this routine enough times to know how it usually ended. Ethan and Mason were perched on the couch, peeking out the window every now and then, waiting for the unmistakable sound of their father’s car pulling into the driveway.

"Mom, when's Dad coming?" Ethan asked for what felt like the hundredth time. His voice had that hopeful, uncertain edge that always tore at my heart.

Ethan was nine now, old enough to sense when something wasn’t quite right but still young enough to wish it wasn’t true.

I ran a hand through my hair and forced a smile.

"Soon, sweetheart. He said he’d be here."

Ethan nodded, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. He was too smart for his own good. Mason, on the other hand, was sprawled across the floor with his toys, blissfully unaware of time and promises. At four, he was still full of that magical childhood innocence where you believe everything will always work out.

The boys weren’t the only ones waiting. Hugh, Ava, and Oscar were here too. Ava, Hugh’s 12-year-old daughter, was curled up on the couch, nose buried in a book while Oscar, his 17-year-old son, was tapping away on his phone, though he glanced at me from time to time with a knowing look. Hugh was in the kitchen, pretending to busy himself, but I knew him well enough to catch his subtle glances toward the front door. He was watching too.

Waiting.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the tense silence like a knife. Mason jumped up immediately, his little face lighting up with excitement as he dashed to the door. "Daddy!" he shouted, his tiny hands struggling to twist the doorknob before Ethan quickly helped him.

And there he was. Matthew.

My ex-husband.

Standing there with that familiar polished grin, the same one that had fooled me for years before I realized it was more charm than substance.

He looked every bit the smooth-talking lawyer he was, hair neatly combed, wearing an expensive suit that screamed 'I don’t have time for this', but here I am anyway.

"Hey, buddy!" Matthew exclaimed as Mason leapt into his arms, his voice dripping with enthusiasm. He shot a quick glance at me, his smile faltering for a second before he smoothly recovered. "Sorry I’m late. Busy day at work."

"Of course you are." I muttered under my breath. But the boys didn’t care.

They only saw their dad, and that was enough for them. Ethan approached more cautiously, his eyes studying Matthew, almost as if he were waiting to see if this time would be different. I knew that look all too well.

"Hey, Ethan!" Matthew said, ruffling his son’s hair. "Got something for you both." He reached into the sleek black bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out two shiny, brand-new backpacks.

Mason squealed with delight, clutching his in his arms like it was made of gold, while Ethan’s expression shifted from excitement to hesitation.

"Cool, thanks, Dad." He said, a polite smile on his face. I could see the wheels turning in his head, though. A backpack didn’t make up for missed promises, no matter how shiny it was.

"Are you gonna come tomorrow?" Ethan asked quietly, looking up at his father with those wide, hopeful eyes that always broke my heart. "For the first day of school?"

"Of course, buddy!" Matthew said without hesitation. He leaned down, crouching to their level and placing a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world! I’ll be there, bright and early."

I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall, watching this scene play out like it always did. Matthew was nothing if not consistent in his ability to make promises he couldn’t keep.

Before I could say anything, Hugh walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His presence was calming, always steady and reassuring. He gave me a small, knowing smile before turning his attention to Matthew.

"Matthew." Hugh said, his voice polite but firm as he extended his hand.

"Hugh." Matthew replied, shaking it with the same rehearsed friendliness he used with clients.

They had met a handful of times, and while Matthew had never said anything outright, I could tell he wasn’t thrilled about another man stepping into the lives of his children.

The boys were still fawning over their backpacks when Ava and Oscar joined us in the living room. Ava smiled warmly at Mason, ruffling his hair.

"Nice backpack boys!"

Oscar stood beside Hugh, his tall frame giving him an almost protective air.

"You guys excited for school tomorrow?" he asked, nudging Ethan playfully. Ethan grinned full of excitement.

Matthew didn’t stay long. He never did. After about twenty minutes of small talk and handing out gifts, he was already looking at his watch. "Alright, I’ve gotta go." he said, standing up and straightening his suit. "But I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? Bright and early as I said!"

The boys hugged him, clinging to him like they always did, desperate for any time they could get with him. And just like that, he was gone.

I watched the door close behind him, and a familiar tightness settled in my chest. The boys turned back to their new backpacks, their excitement renewed, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that tomorrow would end in disappointment. Again.

Hugh caught my eye from across the room, sensing my unease. He walked over, his hand resting on the small of my back, and leaned in to whisper. "You okay?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "I don’t know. I want to believe him, but… I can’t keep letting the boys get hurt. Ethan’s starting to get it, Hugh. He knows when Matthew’s lying now."

Hugh’s expression softened, and he pulled me closer. "Hey, I’ll be there. We’ll be there. They won’t be alone. I promise."

I leaned into him, closing my eyes, letting his warmth seep into me. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You’ll never have to find out, love." he whispered into my hair, kissing the top of my head.

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of pancakes. The house was already buzzing with energy, far earlier than I expected. I shuffled downstairs, still groggy, only to stop in my tracks at the sight that greeted me.

The living room was transformed. Balloons and streamers hung from the ceiling, and a colorful banner that read 'First Day of School!' stretched across the doorway. The kitchen table was covered in every breakfast food imaginable - pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruit, even little bowls of candy that Mason would definitely notice first.

I blinked, rubbing my eyes. "Hugh, did you…?"

He turned from the stove, grinning at me like a kid who had just pulled off the best surprise. "Figured we’d make it special."

Tears welled up in my eyes, unbidden, and I pressed a hand to my mouth. "I-I can’t believe you did all this!"

Hugh crossed the room in a few strides, pulling me into his arms.

"It’s their first day of school. Gotta make it a big deal, right?"

The kids came rushing down the stairs next, their faces lighting up at the sight. Ethan and Mason squealed in delight, darting between the living room and the kitchen like it was the best thing they had ever seen.

"This is awesome!" Ethan shouted, his eyes wide with excitement.

Ava grinned as she joined us at the table, patting the seat next to her for Mason, while Oscar laughed at his little brother’s excitement. "Told you Dad goes all out!" Oscar teased.

Hugh winked at me, flipping another pancake onto the stack.

"It's a big day. Gotta start it right!"

And it was. For a few precious moments, everything felt perfect. The kids were happy, the atmosphere light and joyous, and the worries from yesterday seemed far away.

But when we got to the school, reality came crashing back. We stood outside the classroom door, surrounded by other excited parents and their children, and the boys kept glancing toward the entrance. Waiting.

"Is Daddy coming?" Mason asked again, his voice laced with hope.

"He said he would." I murmured, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince anymore.

The minutes ticked by, and the crowd around us thinned as more and more families said their goodbyes and headed inside. But Matthew never showed. And I could see the hope fading from Ethan’s eyes.

Hugh stepped forward, crouching down to their level. "Hey, guys.." he said, his voice soft but upbeat. "Your dad’s probably stuck at work, but that doesn’t mean today isn’t special. You’ve got all of us here, and we’re so proud of you. Right, Ava?"

Ava nodded, smiling warmly at Ethan. "You’re gonna rock it, Ethan! I just know it."

Oscar clapped Mason on the back, grinning. "And Mason, you better show them how it’s done, okay?"

Mason giggled, his spirits lifting, but Ethan was still quiet. Hugh reached out, gently tilting Ethan’s chin up. "You’re gonna be amazing today. And no matter what, we’re always here for you. Okay?"

Ethan swallowed, his eyes glistening a little, but then he nodded, managing a small smile. "Okay."

I pulled him into a hug, my heart aching for him. "I love you so so much, Ethan. You’re going to do great!"

Mason was next, clinging to my leg before I knelt down to hug him properly.

"Be good, okay? Listen to your teacher, and have fun. I love you so much!" He nodded eagerly, bouncing on his toes, the weight of disappointment not yet touching him the way it did Ethan.

We said our goodbyes to Ava and Oscar, sending them off to their own classes, before Hugh and I turned to leave. As we walked out of the school, my chest felt tight.

The weight of everything - the missed promises, the endless hope that Matthew would change, the constant pain in Ethan’s eyes - was pressing down on me harder than usual.

I could feel Hugh’s arm around my shoulders, warm and reassuring, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the hurt. We stepped out into the parking lot when I heard someone call my name.

"Y/n! Wait!"

I froze, my blood running cold as I turned to see Matthew jogging up the sidewalk, his suit jacket slightly askew, as if he had hurried over at the last minute.

My stomach twisted in knots.

Now?

After all this time, after the boys had gone inside? My hands balled into fists at my sides.

"I’m sorry!" Matthew said, breathless, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "I got caught up at the office, but I’m here now. I didn’t want to miss it."

Something in me snapped. All the hurt, all the frustration, all the times he had let our boys down over the years, rushed to the surface. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, my vision blurring as they spilled over before I could stop them.

"You’re sorry?" I spat, the words escaping me in a choked sob. I stormed toward him, fists clenched, my body trembling with rage. "You missed it, Matthew! You missed everything! They went into class without you!"

He looked startled, stepping back as I shoved his chest. "Y/n, come on, I said I’m sorry- "

"Sorry doesn’t fix it!" I screamed, slamming my fists into his chest again, harder this time.

"Do you have any idea how much Ethan was looking for you? How many times he asked about you?! Mason kept asking when you’d get here, and you didn’t show up! You weren’t here, Matthew! Again!"

I kept hitting his chest, my tears flowing freely now. My voice was loud, too loud, but I didn’t care. The dam had broken, and everything I had bottled up for years came pouring out.

"You promised me! You promised them you’d be here, and you weren’t! You never are!"

Matthew tried to catch my wrists, his face pale, eyes wide. “Y/n, stop- "

But I couldn’t stop.

The pain of watching my boys be disappointed time and time again was too much.

"You don’t get it! You don’t get to swoop in at the last second and act like everything’s fine!" I sobbed, my fists still pounding against his chest until I felt Hugh’s hands gently but firmly wrap around me, pulling me back.

"Y/n.." Hugh’s voice was steady, his grip gentle but unyielding as he pulled me away from Matthew. "That’s enough."

I collapsed into Hugh’s chest, my body trembling as I sobbed, the fight draining out of me as quickly as it had come. Hugh held me close, one hand cradling the back of my head, while I clung to him, my tears soaking into his shirt. He rocked me gently, whispering soothing words I couldn’t quite make out, but the warmth of his embrace calmed me, slowly but surely.

Matthew, still standing a few feet away, looked completely stunned, his mouth opening and closing as if he didn’t know what to say. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure.

"Look.. I’m sorry.." he said again, his voice weaker this time. "I really did try to make it.:

"That’s the problem, Matthew.." I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying. "You always try. But trying isn’t enough anymore."

Matthew’s face twisted with frustration. "I’m doing my best! It’s not like I’m trying to miss these things, you know. I have a job- "

"A job?!" I cut him off, my voice rising again despite myself. "I have a fucking job too! You think that’s an excuse? Ethan sees it, Matthew! He knows when you’re lying. And Mason? He’ll start seeing it soon too. They don’t care about your job. They care about you being here!"

Matthew clenched his jaw, his own frustration building.

"I don’t have the luxury of just playing house like you do, y/n! I have more responsibilities!"

"Playing house?" I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "You have no idea what it's like to raise them. No idea what it feels like to watch their hearts break every time you don’t show up!"

"You don’t think I care?" Matthew shot back, his voice growing louder. "I’m doing the best I can with the time I have!"

"And it’s never enough.." I whispered, the fight leaving me again. I wiped at my eyes, exhausted.

"Hey." Hugh’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. His tone was sharp, but not raised. "That’s enough. You should be ashamed of yourself, Matthew."

As soon as Hugh said it, I saw Matthew’s posture change.

His eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. For a split second, I could see the switch flip in him, the smooth, collected persona cracking. Matthew wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not by someone like Hugh. Not by someone who had quietly stepped into the role Matthew had always fumbled.

"Excuse me?" Matthew’s voice was low, his eyes locked on Hugh. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Hugh didn’t flinch.

He met Matthew’s glare head-on, his expression calm but firm.

"I think I’m the man who’s been here for your kids when you couldn’t be bothered to show up. And I’m telling you - what you’re doing is hurting them and y/n."

Matthew took a step forward, his face flushed with anger now. "You think you can just walk in and play daddy, huh? That you know what it’s like to juggle everything I do? You don’t get to stand there and judge me, Jackman."

I could feel the tension crackling between them, thick and heavy. Hugh was calm, still, like a rock against the storm that was Matthew’s rising temper.

My heart was pounding, the last remnants of my tears still clinging to my lashes as I watched, half-dazed from the emotional rollercoaster of the last few minutes.

Matthew sneered, stepping even closer. "You think you're so perfect, don’t you? Mr. Hollywood star, swooping in to save the day. You’re not their father. You’re nothing to them. Just a simple placeholder."

Hugh’s jaw tightened, and I saw the muscle twitch there. But he didn’t react the way Matthew clearly wanted him to. Instead, he exhaled slowly and said, "You’re right. I’m not their father. But I’m the one they can count on. I’m the one who’s here when they need someone. That’s what matters."

Matthew’s face twisted in frustration, his fists clenching tighter. He pointed at Hugh, his voice rising.

"You have no idea what it’s like to have your own life, your own responsibilities, and try to make time for everyone. It’s easy for you to stand there and act like the hero when you’ve got nothing else pulling you in a million directions!"

I stepped forward before Hugh could respond, my voice shaking with anger. "You think Hugh doesn’t have responsibilities? You think he doesn’t make sacrifices? He does all of this for our kids while you barely lift a finger! And you know what? He never complains! Never makes excuses. He just shows up. That’s what they need, Matthew - someone who shows up."

Matthew’s gaze flicked between me and Hugh, his expression growing darker by the second. He laughed sarcastically.

"You’re really going to take his side over mine, y/n? After everything?"

I scoffed, wiping the lingering tears from my eyes.

"I'm taking my sons’ side, Matthew. Because they deserve better than what you’re giving them. This isn’t about sides. It’s about what’s right for them."

Matthew again let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. You really think I don’t care, don’t you? That I don’t want to be there for them?"

"Well, If you wanted to be here, you would be." Hugh cut in, his voice sharp now, no longer willing to play nice.

"You wouldn’t be showing up late, making excuses, and disappointing them over and over. You’d be here, Matthew. It’s that simple."

"That simple?" Matthew’s voice was nearly a growl now.

"You have no idea what I go through - what I have to balance! It’s not as easy as you think, playing ‘Super Dad.’!" He stepped forward again, and for a second, I thought it might come to blows.

But Hugh, steady and calm, took a deliberate step forward too, closing the distance.

"As we said before.. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being there. No one’s asking for you to be a superhero. They just want their dad to show up. You owe it to them to do better."

The tension between them felt like it was about to explode, and I could barely breathe, watching it unfold. I knew Matthew’s temper. I had seen it flare too many times. And I knew Hugh was protective, fiercely so, but not one to back down when it came to the people he loved.

Matthew’s nostrils flared, his fists still clenched at his sides.

"You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? You think you can just walk into my life and replace me?"

Hugh’s gaze was steady, unwavering, but he couldn't help himself and let out a soft laugh.

"I don’t want to replace you, Matthew. But I won’t stand by and watch those boys get hurt because you can’t figure out your priorities."

I felt my body trembling again, but this time from the frustration and helplessness of it all. I had spent so long trying to protect my boys from this, trying to shield them from the disappointment of their father’s broken promises. And now, here it was, boiling over in front of me.

"Enough!" I yelled, my voice breaking as I stepped between them.

"This isn’t about either of you! It’s about Ethan and Mason. And I’m so tired of seeing them get hurt because you can’t keep your word."

Matthew blinked at me, his anger momentarily giving way to something else - something that looked like shame. But just as quickly, his walls went back up, and he shook his head, stepping back.

"This is ridiculous." he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I didn’t come here to be ganged up on."

I crossed my arms, feeling the weight of exhaustion press down on me.

"Then what did you come for, Matthew? Because if it wasn’t to be there for your sons before they go attend their very first day of school, I don’t see the point."

For a long moment, Matthew just stared at us, his jaw tight, his expression a mixture of anger and something else I couldn’t quite place. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed off down the sidewalk, leaving us standing there in the empty schoolyard.

I let out a shaky breath, my legs suddenly feeling like jelly as the weight of the moment caught up with me. Before I knew it, Hugh’s arms were around me again, pulling me close, holding me up as I leaned into him.

"You okay, love?" he whispered, his voice gentle, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.

I nodded, though I didn’t trust my voice just yet. The anger, the hurt, the frustration - it was all still swirling inside me, but Hugh’s presence, his steady calmness, helped anchor me.

"I'm sorry.." I whispered, wiping at my tear-streaked face. "I didn’t mean to… to lose it like that."

"Don’t apologize." Hugh said softly, kissing the top of my head. "You had every right to say what you did. He needed to hear it."

I took a deep breath, finally pulling back to look up at him.

"I just… I hate that this is what it’s come to. That the boys keep getting hurt like this."

"They have you." Hugh said, his voice firm but full of warmth. "And they have me. We’ll get through this."

I nodded, though my heart still ached. "Thank you." I whispered. "For everything. For being here."

Hugh smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I’m always here, y/n. You and the boys - you’re my family too."

I felt a fresh wave of emotion wash over me, but this time, it was mixed with gratitude and love.

As we walked back to the car, hand in hand, I knew that no matter what happened with Matthew, no matter how many times he failed to show up, we would be okay. Because Hugh was right.

We had each other.

And that was enough.

---------------------------------------------------

Tags: @angelofthorr @haytchee

[waughymommy]

MOTHER OR CHILD 🚸

I've struggled with this one. I managed to finish chapter 2, but I am still uncertain as to where I will go with this. 

Chapter 2

            After getting her changed, Jocelyn took her back to the living room to watch tv. Heather plopped on the couch. She still felt really embarrassed, but her heart raced with excitement. As soon as her padded butt hit the cushion, her mother yelled out her name, “Heather Renee Dawson, you better get your butt off the couch and on the floor right now,” Jocelyn said, resurrecting her stern, maternal voice from when her children were kids.

            Heather immediately recoiled with fear, but it quickly turned to indignation. She had never been spoken to like that since she was a child. “Mom, I am not a little kid and this is my house. I can sit wherever I want,” Heather responded sharply. As the words left her lips, she knew she had made a mistake. She saw the flash of anger in her mother’s eyes and instantly, she was a scared little girl.

            “Oh, so you think you are a big girl now. Remind me, who just soaked their diaper? It certainly wasn’t me, so who was it?” Jocelyn said, proud of that fact that she could still keep her children in line.  

            “Me…,” Heather said barely above a whisper.

            “What was that? Mommy couldn’t hear you,” Jocelyn retorted.

            “Me,” Heather said a bit louder as tears started to roll down her cheek.

            “That’s right it was you. And if you soaked your diapers, that means you are just a little baby. You aren’t a big girl. And that’s ok. I don’t expect little babies to know how to use the potty. So lets try this again. You are going to get down on the floor like a good little baby. And I want you to start sounding like the baby you are. This will be your first and only warning. The next time, you disobey, you will be sorry. You agreed to my offer and so now you will submit to my rules while I am here. Now be a good girl and watch your cartoons and if you feel the need to go potty, that’s why you have your diaper on,” Jocelyn said with a softer tone. Heather climbed down from the couch and plopped down onto the carpet. Jocelyn placed her binky in her mouth and walked out of the room.

            Tears still rolled down her face. She wished that she could go back and decline her mother’s offer. She liked to regress to relieve some stress for a few hours, but she could always decide when it was time to grow up again. She tried to focus on the cartoon, but her adult thoughts continued to race. How long was she going to be a baby for? Was her husband going to continue this treatment? She had no control over the situation and she knew for the time being that it was a bad idea to disobey her mother.

            While Heather fretted, Jocelyn went down into their basement to rummage around for anything from when her granddaughter was young. She was just about to abandon the search, when she noticed something in the far corner of the basement. She walked over and found a playpen folded up and leaning against the wall. There were a few boxes next to it as well, which she quickly opened. All of Amy’s old baby toys were here. Happy with her discovery, she started hauling her finds upstairs.

            “Alright baby girl, look what mommy found?” Jocelyn said. Heather’s eyes widened and she started sucking her binky more intensely. Jocelyn set up the playpen walls and scattered the toys with the confines of Heather’s new play space. “Ok sweetheart, lets get you set up in here. You play in here while mommy goes and makes your lunch,” Jocelyn said while grabbing her daughter’s hand to help her into the playpen. “And remember, if you try to leave this playpen, baby will get a spanking.”

            Heather plopped down and examined all of the toys. She quickly realized that this was all of Amy’s old things. There were rattles and teething toys. There were the electronic interactives that played music while others made animal sounds. Brightly colored blocks and stuffed animals completed the infant ensemble of toys. At first she wasn’t sure if it was right to play with her daughter’s things, but then her curiosity got the better of her. Getting on her hands and knees, she crawled over to one of the electronic interactives. She pressed a button and was immediately rewarded with the sound of a duck. Heather giggled and mimicked the sound behind her binky. She pressed another and this time it was a pig. “Oink oink,” she laughed. As she started playing with all of the toys, she began to truly relax. She laughed and babbled like a baby. She had no idea how much time had elapsed. When she felt a twinge in her bladder, she paused and wondered if she should call for her mother. But then she thought better of it and her diaper grew warm.

            “Is my baby girl, having fun?” Jocelyn asked as she entered the room. “Stand up for me and lets check that diaper.” Heather did as she was told, but still blushed behind her pacifier. “Wet, but I think it can still take some more. Let’s go eat some lunch,” Jocelyn took her by the hand and led her to the kitchen table. Heather sat down and her mother grabbed a large dish towel to fashion into a makeshift bib. Jocelyn set her plate before her. A grilled cheese had been cut into little bite size pieces alongside a fruit cup. Her bottle had been refilled with milk. “I didn’t have time to pick up jars of baby food before I came over this morning, but don’t you worry, mommy will make sure to get some,” Jocelyn pinched Heather’s cheeks as she spoke.

            Heather timidly started nibbling on the sandwich pieces. She went to grab a utensil to take bite of the fruit and noticed she didn’t have one. “Mommy, I don’t have a spoon to eat my fruit.”

            “Babies eat with their hands, you don’t need a spoon to eat your fruit. And don’t worry about making a mess. Mommy will clean you up when you are done.” Jocelyn replied.

            “But, but…” before she could finish her sentence, her mother cut her off. “Can you please remind me what you are wearing?”

            “I’m sorry mommy, I’m just a baby,” Heather said in a defeated tone. Jocelyn just smiled and watched her overgrown baby stick her hands into the fruit cup. Her hands were covered in juice as she brought the fruit to her mouth, and it dripped down her chin. After finishing her food, Jocelyn wiped her face and hands. She picked up her bottle and led her daughter to her bedroom. She took off Heather’s onesie, leaving her naked except for her damp diaper. Heather started to cover her exposed breasts, but Jocelyn smacked her hands away. “Babies have no modesty. Now lay down. You have had quite the day. Babies need their rest.” Jocelyn caressed her daughters face and kissed her on her forehead, “I love you my sweet girl. You can always be mommy’s baby.” With that, she tucked her in and handed Heather her bottle. She closed the blinds to darken the room. She left the room and quietly closed the door.

            Heather slowly nursed the bottle. She ruminated on the day’s events. This was exactly what she wanted. But why did she feel guilty? Why did she feel she was doing something wrong? As she nursed her bottle, she wet her diaper a bit more. Although she felt so conflicted about her treatment, she couldn’t deny the euphoria she felt every time she wet her diaper. It truly made her feel like an infant. This was the opportunity she always wanted; it would be a shame to waste it. Feeling an infantile glow, her eyes grew heavy as she nursed. She wondered what else was in store for her as she drifted off to sleep.

[orphicdreamers-wp]

When You Know You Know — Quinn Hughes

Summary; In which you, Quinn and your loved ones recount the early days of your relationship

Content Warning: wedding ceremony inaccuracies, fluff

You laughed into your palms as Jack took the microphone and grinned sheepishly, “Hey guys! I’m Jack, the cooler of Quinn’s brothers.” You turned to your husband, “How bad are we expecting this to turn out?” Quinn laughed, “Almost as bad as Trevor standing up after the minister said ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ and saying ‘don’t nobody say nothing’.” Jack grinned as you turned to face you and his brother, “I have one text from a Quinn Hughes, dated December 9th 2018. Jack no joke, I just met my wife. She’s perfect.”

Jack turned to face your wedding guests, “It should be noted that the first two weeks of December that year there was a horrendous snow storm in Vancouver so I initially didn’t believe him. Until he FaceTimed me the next day trekking through the snow holding a bouquet of lavenders that was bigger than his head, which is ideally a huge thing of flowers. He told me he was going to meet a girl for dinner. He called me again the next day, this time he was demanding to speak to our mom to learn how to make pasta as he was having someone over for dinner.”

Jack’s story earned laughs from the guests. Jack smiled at you and Quinn as he continued, “This continued through the remainder of December and the majority of January. It was nearing a month he’d been needing dating advice. So he called me once again trekking through the snow, but that time he wasn’t alone.” Jack turned to face you with a smile, “I was complaining about whatever stupid crap a 17 year old boy would. And then I saw Quinn get pelted in the face with a snowball. Then I heard Y/N squeal as she and Quinn ran through the snow covered streets of Vancouver throwing snowballs at each other and giggling.”

You laughed softly as you melted into your husbands side into a warm embrace, “I quickly learned that Y/N was perfect for my brother which was unexpected because Y/N is classy, kind and beautiful and Quinn is not. But after meeting her I have never had to question or wonder if my brother made the right choice. Because from the moment I met her, Y/N has shown nothing but grace, love and support for not just Quinn but my entire family. I could not be more proud to say, welcome to the family sis.” Your eyes welled with tears as you stood to go hug Jack, “I always wanted a little brother to annoy.” Jack smiled as he hugged you, “I always wanted a sister.”

You returned to your seat next to your husband as your best friend, Gracie stood up with the microphone, “I hold here a hot pink notebook sheet of paper dated April 13th 2006, it reads ‘GG I have a secret. I have to tell someone so your my friend now that I told you. Mrs Tkachuck’s son is cute. He is always skating at recess. I think he has really nice hair, maybe my husband will too. Anyways I got peanut butter sandwiches for lunch what did you get?’ This was the first note I ever received.”

You covered your face with your hands as you heard your husband whisper, “Please tell me it wasn’t Brady.” You laughed as Gracie continued, “The boy in the note did have really nice hair. Matthew Tkachuck everyone. That note would be seen as two 7 year old girls agreeing that a 9 year old was cute and bonding over lunch. But for me that singular note written in real glitter pen by the 7 year old who had no friends because she didn’t let anyone say anything mean to her. You, Y/N changed my life at just 7 years old.”

Quinn squeezed your hand reassuringly as you blinked back soft tears as Gracie continued, “You wouldn’t know this, because I never told you. But on Friendsgiving in 2018, when I pulled the longer side of the wishbone. I wished for you to find someone who would alter your life the way you altered mine. And then 13 days later I got a voicemail from you at 3 am. You had claimed you found the love of your life and his name was win. I unanimously decided that his name probably wasn’t actually win but more likely Quinn.”

You felt your gaze soften as Quinn pressed a kiss to your temple as your best friend finished her speech, “To my beautiful, perfect, amazing and wonderful best friend. To the rest of your life with a guy who treks through the snow a day after meeting you. PS your husband did end up having good hair.” You and Quinn erupted into soft giggles as you looked at each other. You smiled up at Quinn, “I so would have written love notes to you in teal glitter pens.” Quinn laughed, “I would trek through a million snowstorms to bring you flowers.”

You melted into a kiss as your mother in law took the stage, “My biggest baby. In your entire life I have only seen you love three things. Your family, hockey and the beautiful woman that is sitting next to you. And none of those things are in order. From the moment I met Y/N it was clear to me that you loved her more than anything else in the world. It’s in the eyes. You, Quinn Hughes have very telling eyes. I could tell by your eyes when you pushed Jack face first down a slide when you were 5 and he was 3. I knew from the look in your eyes the first time you snuck out. And I knew when I saw your eyes light up when Y/N offered to take Jack and Luke to hockey practice so me and your father could have a break.”

Ellen continued as she smiled at you, “I knew that you were long gone, there was no coming back. You were head over heels for her and honestly I think I was a little bit as well. For as long as I remember you and your brothers never liked each others friends or associates. Don’t get me started on girlfriends. But Jack and Luke came home and would not shut up about how much they liked Y/N. I knew then that she was perfect for you and she fit like a missing puzzle piece of our family. So it didn’t come as a shock to me when you called me less than a year later asking me to help you pick out engagement rings.”

Your jaw dropped, you hadn’t known that Quinn had thought about marrying you so quickly. Ellen smiled at you and her eldest son, “To my beautiful son and his even more beautiful wife. Watching you two navigate life together has been one of the most gracious gifts I’ve ever received.” You smiled warmly at your mother in law as you rested your head on your husbands shoulder, “So I’m picking up on the fact that apparently everyone around us including us knew from the beginning of our relationship that we’d end up here. Is it just me?” Quinn kissed your cheek, “Nope, definitely not just you.”

[callsigns-haze]

A pilot? Again?

Pairing: Jake Seresin X detective, single mom reader

After investigating a crash at Top Gun for four hours, Detective Y/N, who lost her husband Daniel four years ago, finds no evidence of foul play and deems the case closed. During her time there, she reconnects with Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Daniel's younger brother, and meets his charming wingman, Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Hangman flirts with Y/N as he walks her to her car, and for the first time in years, she feels comfortable with the attention. Before leaving, Y/N gives him her card with her number, leaving the door open for future contact. Hangman promises to text, sparking the potential for a new chapter in her life.

This chapter contains references to past personal loss and emotional themes. It features characters dealing with grief and the aftermath of a tragic event.

Two Weeks of Silence

It had been two weeks since the funeral, but the house was still suffocating. The silence was unbearable, the only sounds coming from the occasional babble of 14-month-old Keith or the quiet shuffle of Logan, who had been eerily quiet since his father’s death. It was as if the life had been drained from the walls along with Daniel "Griffin" Bradshaw, Bradley’s older brother by two years.

Y/N stood in the kitchen, gripping the counter with trembling hands, her back turned to the door. The numbness hadn’t left. It clung to her like a second skin, tightening with every passing day. She had held it together at the funeral—everyone had said she was so strong. Strong for the kids. But now, without the distraction of people offering meaningless words, she felt nothing but an empty ache.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw had been coming over almost every day since the funeral. Not that she’d asked him to. He just showed up, like he was trying to step into Daniel’s shoes. But he wasn’t Daniel. He never would be.

She heard the familiar creak of the door behind her. She didn’t bother turning around. She already knew who it was.

“Y/N,” Bradley said, his voice quiet but rough, the usual edge missing.

“What is it, Bradley?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

“I came to check on you,” he said, stepping into the kitchen with a heavy sigh.

Y/N gritted her teeth and turned to face him, her arms crossed. She looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, her face pale and drawn. “You don’t have to keep coming here, you know. I’m not your responsibility.”

Bradley’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like the way she was pushing him away, but he wasn’t about to argue with her. Not now. Not after everything. “I know. But I’m here anyway.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Right. You’re always here.”

Bradley stared at her, his eyes flicking to the half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. “Have you slept at all?”

“Why does it matter?” she snapped. “Sleep doesn’t change anything. Daniel’s still dead. I’m still stuck here raising these boys on my own. You think a nap’s going to fix that?”

Bradley didn’t flinch. He just nodded, the muscles in his jaw working as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “No. It won’t.”

Y/N turned away from him again, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Keith’s babbling came from the living room, a small reminder that her youngest son needed her, even though she felt like she had nothing left to give. Logan, too, had been withdrawn, watching everything in silent confusion. He was too young to understand why his father wasn’t coming home, but old enough to sense the weight of what had happened.

“What am I supposed to tell them, Bradley?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “What do I say to Logan when he asks about his dad? That he died on some mission that went sideways? That he’s never coming back? When I do he asks why. How am I meant to know!?”

Bradley exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know, Y/N. I wish I had the answers. But Logan’s going to need you to be honest with him. You can’t shield him from it forever.”

She let out a shaky breath, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears. “He’s only seven, Bradley. He shouldn’t have to grow up like this.”

Bradley stepped closer, his voice softening. “You’re right. He shouldn’t. But he’s tough—just like his dad. And you’re tougher than you think.”

Y/N shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “It'll ruin the kid. I’m just so damn tired.”

Bradley stood there, not sure what to say. He wasn’t good at this—the comforting, the emotional stuff. That had always been Daniel’s role. But Daniel wasn’t here anymore, and Bradley was all Y/N had left. He stepped forward, cautiously, until he was right next to her.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” he said quietly. “I’m here for you. For Logan. For Keith.”

Y/N didn’t respond at first, just kept staring at the floor, the weight of everything crushing down on her. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice tight with suppressed emotion.

“You’re not Daniel, Bradley. You were barely ever here before that either.”

The words cut deep, but Bradley nodded, accepting them for what they were. He wasn’t Daniel. He couldn’t replace his brother, no matter how hard he tried. But he could be there for the family Daniel had left behind.

“I know,” Bradley said quietly. “But I’m still here.”

Y/N finally looked up at him, her eyes red and tired. There was no fight left in her, no anger, just a raw, aching grief that mirrored his own.

“Logan asked me yesterday if his dad was a hero,” she said, her voice barely audible.

Bradley’s throat tightened. “What did you say?”

She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t know what to say. Fourteen times in my life I accused pilots of doing something wrong but never Daniel. I just told him… I told him his dad loved him. That was all I could get out.”

Bradley nodded slowly, his chest aching with a familiar sense of loss. “It’s enough. Logan doesn’t need the details. He just needs to know that his dad loved him. That’s what matters.”

Y/N’s eyes met his again, and for the first time since Daniel’s death, there was something other than anger or numbness there. Maybe it was acceptance. Maybe it was just exhaustion. But she didn’t push him away this time.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted quietly.

“You don’t have to figure it all out today,” Bradley replied. “Just take it one day at a time. I’ll be here. For whatever you need.”

Y/N nodded, her shoulders slumping as the weight of it all threatened to overwhelm her again. But this time, Bradley was there, standing beside her, ready to catch her if she fell.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

-----

Four years had passed since Daniel’s death, and life had moved on, even if it still carried the scars of that day. Y/N had thrown herself into her work, rising through the ranks until she became a detective, often working with specialized units like CSI. Her job demanded precision, focus, and a cool head under pressure—traits she’d developed while learning to balance being a widow and a mother to two boys.

It was 6:00 AM, and the alarm blared from her phone. Y/N groaned, stretching in her bed before she turned it off and rubbed her eyes. Another day, another case to solve. She threw the covers off and padded to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, she stared at herself. She turned on the faucet and grabbed her toothbrush, squeezing a small amount of minty toothpaste onto the bristles. The rhythmic motion of brushing her teeth was oddly soothing, a routine that anchored her at the start of each day. She brushed methodically, starting from the back molars, working her way to the front, the fresh taste of mint chasing away the dregs of sleep. After rinsing, she ran her tongue over her teeth, appreciating the smooth, clean feeling.

Next, she grabbed her brush and began working through her hair. Her hair had grown longer than she usually kept it, but she liked the way it looked now—professional but still a little wild. She worked through a few tangles, brushing from the roots to the ends until her hair was soft and smooth. She tied it back into a sleek ponytail, the style that was both functional and neat for her long days on the job.

Returning to the bedroom, Y/N opened her closet. She ran her fingers over the hangers, choosing a black tailored blazer and matching pants. A crisp white blouse underneath kept the look sharp but professional. Sliding the pants on first, she tucked in her blouse and fastened the blazer, making sure everything sat perfectly. She moved over to the full-length mirror by the closet door, adjusting her collar and sleeves. Her badge was clipped to the belt, a constant reminder of the responsibility she carried.

Finally, she walked over to the small safe tucked discreetly in her nightstand drawer. She spun the dial, opening the metal door with a quiet click. Inside sat her standard-issue Glock. The cold metal felt familiar in her hand as she checked it over, ensuring it was loaded and ready. She slipped the gun into its holster at her side, concealed beneath her blazer. One last glance in the mirror—she looked like a detective ready to take on whatever the day threw at her.

But before she could leave the house, there was one more challenge: waking up her boys.

Y/N headed down the hall to Logan’s room. At eleven, Logan was already turning into a miniature version of his father. He had Daniel’s stubbornness, for sure, and waking him up in the morning had become something of a battle over the years.

She knocked gently on the door. “Logan, it’s time to get up.”

There was no response. She sighed, opening the door and stepping into the room. Logan was buried under his blankets, only the top of his messy brown hair visible. His room was a mess, toys and clothes scattered across the floor, his desk cluttered with books and school papers.

“Logan,” Y/N said again, this time with more authority. “Get up. You’ve got school.”

A muffled groan came from beneath the blankets. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled.

Y/N smirked, walking over to the bed and gently pulling the covers down. Logan blinked up at her, his face creased from the pillow, eyes squinting in the early morning light.

“You said that yesterday,” she said, tapping his shoulder. “Come on. You don’t want to miss the bus.”

Logan groaned again, rolling over onto his back. “I’m not a morning person, Mom. You know that.”

“I do know that,” Y/N replied, crossing her arms. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you have to get up. Now.”

With a dramatic sigh, Logan finally sat up, rubbing his eyes. He stretched, his arms reaching above his head, and yawned loudly. “Fine, fine. I’m up.”

“Good,” Y/N said, walking back to the door. “Get dressed. Breakfast is in ten minutes.”

Logan gave a half-hearted nod, already shuffling towards his closet as Y/N left the room, leaving him to his slow morning routine.

Next was Keith. At five years old, he was still small and full of energy, but mornings weren’t his strong suit either. Y/N stepped into his room, where Keith was curled up in his bed, clutching his favourite stuffed animal—a well-worn bear named Buddy.

“Keith, time to wake up,” she said softly, kneeling beside his bed.

Keith stirred, his big brown eyes fluttering open as he looked up at her. He yawned, stretching his tiny arms out as he rubbed at his eyes. “Morning, Mama.”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Y/N said with a smile. “Let’s get you ready for school, okay?”

Keith nodded sleepily, still half-asleep as Y/N helped him sit up. She pulled out a pair of pants and a T-shirt from his dresser, guiding him through getting dressed. His little fingers fumbled with the shirt buttons, so she crouched down and helped him fasten them.

Once he was dressed, she scooped him up and carried him to the bathroom, setting him down gently on the step stool by the sink. Keith blinked blearily as Y/N handed him his toothbrush, squeezing a bit of kid-friendly toothpaste onto the bristles.

“Here you go, buddy. Let’s brush those teeth.”

Keith obediently brushed, though his movements were slow and clumsy. Y/N kept a watchful eye, making sure he didn’t miss any spots. Once they were done, she wiped his mouth with a washcloth and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead.

“All set, champ. You’re ready for the day.”

Keith smiled, still a little groggy but looking more awake now. He reached for her hand as they left the bathroom, heading downstairs to join Logan for breakfast.

Y/N leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her coffee and watching as her boys sat at the table. It was a non-uniform day at their school, which always meant a little more chaos in the morning, especially with Keith's boundless energy. The five-year-old was practically vibrating in his seat, bouncing up and down as he eagerly shovelled toast into his mouth.

"Keith, slow down," Logan said in a calm but firm voice, his tone carrying the weight of someone much older. At eleven, Logan had always been the quieter, more serious one—a reflection of his father in so many ways. While his younger brother practically buzzed with energy, Logan was a calm presence, though he often seemed like he was carrying the weight of the world on his small shoulders. she told Bradley everything would ruin him.

Keith barely paid attention, his legs swinging wildly under the table. “But it’s a non-uniform day! We don’t have to wear the stupid ties and stuff! And we’re bringing money to school! Can we buy sweets, Mama?”

Y/N smiled at the contrast between her two boys. Keith was practically bursting with excitement, his eyes wide and full of life. Meanwhile, Logan sat quietly in front of his cereal, poking at the milk with his spoon, his face expressionless.

“I gave Logan a tenner,” Y/N said, looking at her older son. “He’ll pay for both of you.”

Logan sighed and pushed his hair back, not too thrilled about his role as the responsible older brother but accepting it with his usual calm. “I’ll take care of it,” he said in his usual, even tone. “But Keith, you’ve gotta calm down. You’re gonna knock something over.”

Keith, of course, ignored the warning. “Can we buy, like, five packs of candy, Logan? And maybe some chocolate too!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “No. That’s not what it’s for. We’re paying for the non-uniform day, not having a candy shopping spree.”

Keith pouted dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest, but he didn’t argue back. He knew better. “Fine,” he muttered, but within seconds, he was back to fidgeting in his seat, still brimming with excitement.

Y/N shook her head in amusement. “Logan’s right. The money is for school, not to load up on sweets. But maybe I’ll get you something after school if you both behave, okay?”

Keith perked up immediately. “Okay, Mama!”

Logan merely nodded, his expression unchanging. He took a slow bite of his cereal, clearly not as enthusiastic about the day as his younger brother. Y/N knew it wasn’t just about today—Logan had always been more introspective, more serious. He carried a quiet sadness sometimes, though he didn’t like to talk about it much. She knew he missed his father, even if he didn’t say it aloud. The weight of responsibility that had fallen on his young shoulders wasn’t something a boy his age should have to deal with.

Y/N glanced at the clock on the wall, mentally going through her schedule for the day. “I’ve got to work until four today,” she said, placing her mug down on the counter. “So Penny’s going to pick you both up from school, and you’ll hang out with Amelia until I’m off. That okay with you guys?”

Keith immediately bounced in his seat again. “Yay! I love hanging out with Amelia! She’s gonna let me play her video games, right? She said she would last time!”

Logan just nodded, taking another slow bite of his cereal. “That’s fine,” he said, his tone still calm and measured. “We’ll be okay.”

Y/N walked over and ruffled Logan’s hair, earning a slight frown from him as he smoothed it back down. “I know you will. You’re always a big help with Keith.”

Keith grinned at his brother, clearly not picking up on the subtle tension in Logan’s face. “Logan’s the best!” he shouted, practically bouncing out of his chair now. “He’s gonna let me sit with him at lunch too!”

Logan sighed softly, glancing at his younger brother. “Yeah, sure. Just… calm down, okay?”

Y/N chuckled, finishing the last of her coffee before setting the cup down. She leaned against the counter, watching her boys—so different from each other, but in some ways, inseparable. Keith was a bright light, always full of energy and joy, while Logan had become her steady, serious boy, even though she wished he’d let himself be a kid more often.

“Alright, you two. Finish up your breakfast and get your shoes on. We need to leave in ten minutes,” Y/N said, gently nudging them along.

Keith practically jumped out of his chair, already halfway to the hallway to grab his sneakers, while Logan moved with his usual calm, taking his time to finish his cereal before he stood up.

Y/N glanced at Logan, her heart aching just a little as she watched him. “Logan,” she said softly, causing him to pause and look up at her. “You don’t always have to be the grown-up, you know. It’s okay to just… be a kid.”

Logan shrugged, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I know,” he said, but there was a distance in his voice, like he wasn’t quite convinced.

Y/N sighed softly, resisting the urge to push further. Logan was like that—quiet, introspective. He’d open up when he was ready, and she’d be there when he did.

“Alright, let’s go,” she said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Non-uniform day and no rushing. It’s a good start to the day, don’t you think?”

Logan gave a small, barely noticeable nod, and together they all headed out the door, Keith still chattering excitedly about his plans for the day while Logan walked quietly beside him, always the calm to his little brother’s storm.

---

Y/N had barely finished her second cup of coffee when her phone buzzed with a new case. She was standing in the precinct’s break room, chatting with her rookie partner, Officer Miles Daniels, when her phone went off. Glancing at the screen, her stomach sank as she read the details. A crash at Top Gun—the United States Navy Fighter Weapons School.

“Miles, grab your gear,” Y/N called over her shoulder as she quickly gathered her things. “We’ve got a case. We’re heading to Top Gun.”

Miles raised an eyebrow, still fresh-faced and eager after joining the detective unit, but he moved quickly, following her lead. “Top Gun? Isn’t that, like, military?”

“Yeah, it is,” Y/N responded, slipping her badge and gun into place as they made their way out of the precinct. “But if there’s civilian criminal activity involved, or something suspicious, we get pulled in. Plus, this isn’t just a crash—it’s a potential aircraft destruction case.”

As they made the short drive to the base, Y/N filled Miles in on what they were walking into. The pilot was in stable condition, but there was suspicion that the crash wasn’t just an accident. With a $15 million aircraft destroyed, the stakes were high.

When they arrived at the Naval base, the military security waved them through after checking their credentials. Y/N parked the car outside the main lobby of the base, and the two of them stepped out into the bright morning sun. The sprawling complex of hangars, runways, and state-of-the-art fighter jets stretched out in front of them.

Inside the lobby, they were met by Sergeant Tim Bradford, a stoic and no-nonsense detective who had recently transferred from LAPD to work more closely with specialized cases involving military personnel. Y/N had worked with him on a couple of cases before. He was tough, by the book, and not someone to mess with.

“Bradford,” Y/N greeted him with a nod as she and Miles approached.

“Detective Y/L/N,” Bradford replied, giving her a quick, respectful nod. His sharp blue eyes shifted briefly to Miles, sizing him up. “This your rookie?”

“Yeah, Officer Daniels,” Y/N introduced her partner. Miles nodded politely, though he seemed slightly nervous under Bradford’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Alright,” Bradford said, moving straight to business. “Here’s what we know: A pilot, callsign ‘Raptor,’ nosedived his F/A-18 Super Hornet straight into the runway early this morning. He’s in stable condition at the hospital, but that jet? It’s totalled—$15 million down the drain. The Navy’s doing their own investigation, but we’ve been brought in to determine if this was an intentional act or negligence.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she listened. “Any indication so far that it was deliberate?”

Bradford shook his head. “Not yet. The pilot claims he lost control, but there’s speculation he might have been pushed into it—pressure from his CO, maybe. And if we find anything that points to foul play, the Navy’s going to press charges for destruction of government property. That’s where we come in.”

Y/N nodded, exchanging a glance with Miles, who was taking everything in, trying to piece it all together. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s get to the crash site.”

As they made their way across the base toward the crash site, Y/N kept her eyes sharp. The walk was long, but it gave her a chance to mentally prepare. Aircraft crashes weren’t her usual territory, but the stakes were high, and she was used to pressure.

“I read up on the case file on the way here,” Miles said as they walked. “The pilot’s got a clean record—nothing disciplinary, no indication he’d do something like this on purpose.”

“Keep that in mind, but don’t jump to conclusions,” Y/N replied, her tone firm but patient. “We’re here to look at the evidence, not get caught up in speculation.”

As they neared the crash site, the wreckage of the once sleek fighter jet came into view. The front of the aircraft was crumpled, its nose smashed into the runway with debris scattered all around. Military personnel were already on the scene, cordoning off the area, but the sheer destruction was undeniable.

Y/N knelt down near the wreckage, scanning the area. The nose of the plane was completely destroyed, and the force of the impact had created deep cracks in the runway. It was clear that this hadn’t been a controlled landing.

“Jesus,” Miles muttered under his breath, his eyes wide as he looked over the wreckage.

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed grimly, standing up. “This wasn’t a small mistake.”

She turned to Bradford. “Have they ruled out mechanical failure?”

“They’re working on it,” Bradford said, crossing his arms as he surveyed the scene. “But so far, nothing obvious. It’s more likely a pilot error, but the pilot swears he was fully in control before the nosedive.”

Y/N nodded thoughtfully, walking around the wreckage. Her mind worked quickly, analysing the scene, looking for anything that didn’t quite fit. “We’ll need to talk to the ground crew who prepped the plane and the other pilots who were flying with him,” she said, glancing at Miles. “Something doesn’t add up here.”

Bradford nodded. “Already got the names. Ground crew’s being interviewed, and the flight team’s in the ready room waiting for you.”

Y/N exchanged a look with Miles. “Let’s get to it. The faster we figure out what happened here, the better.”

As Y/N and Miles made their way toward the hangar, they passed a group of aviators, all wearing their flight suits and looking equally serious and exhausted. Among them, a familiar face caught Y/N’s eye. The short moustache, the tousled sandy hair, and that unmistakable stance—it was Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat for a moment. She hadn’t seen Bradley in years, not since Daniel’s funeral. He looked older now, more worn by the weight of life, but still very much the kid brother of her late husband. Her heart squeezed at the sight of him, a wave of memories flooding back.

“Bradley?” she called out, her voice hesitant but filled with recognition.

Bradley turned at the sound of his name, his eyes widening as he saw her. “Y/N?” he said, a mix of surprise and relief crossing his face. “I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”

They approached each other, and Y/N gave him a warm smile. “Detective now,” she explained, gesturing to her badge. “Working a case on base.”

Rooster gave a small smile, his eyes softening with a mix of nostalgia and respect. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” Y/N replied, though the weight of that statement hung between them. The unspoken grief over Daniel was still there, lingering in the air. But this wasn’t the time or place for a deep conversation about the past.

Bradley shook his head, a half-smirk playing on his lips. “I should’ve known you’d end up kicking ass as a detective.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “I try. And you—you’re an instructor now, huh? Flying with the best of the best?”

Bradley nodded. “Yeah, something like that. Let me introduce you to my wingman.” He turned, motioning toward a tall, confident-looking man standing a few feet away. “This is Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.”

Jake stepped forward, offering a charming grin that seemed to light up his entire face. “Pleasure to meet you, Detective Y/L/N. Heard a lot about you,” he said smoothly, extending his hand.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. Jake’s grip was strong, but not overbearing. There was something about his demeanour—equal parts charm and arrogance—that made her feel like she needed to stay on her toes around him. He had that aura, the kind of guy who was used to turning heads and getting what he wanted.

“I hope it was all good things,” Y/N replied, her tone lightly teasing.

“All good,” Jake said with a wink, his southern drawl coming through in a way that made his words linger just a little too long. “Rooster’s mentioned how tough you are. Seems like you two go way back.”

“We do,” Y/N confirmed, glancing at Rooster with a fond smile. “Family.”

There was a pause as the moment settled between them, and then Jake spoke up again. “So, what brings you to our little corner of the sky? I assume it’s not just a social visit.”

Y/N shifted back into professional mode, nodding. “We’re investigating the crash. The pilot—‘Raptor,’ I believe—is in stable condition, but there’s a possibility this wasn’t just pilot error. We need to determine if this was deliberate or negligence. My job is to figure out what went wrong and, if necessary, who’s responsible.”

Rooster exchanged a look with Jake, both of them clearly intrigued but also guarded. “We’re the instructors for this group,” Bradley said. “But we don’t know much beyond that. Raptor’s a good pilot—this isn’t something you’d expect from him.”

Jake nodded in agreement. “Yeah, kid’s sharp. Cocky, sure, but we’ve all been there. He’s not the kind to pull a stunt like this unless something went wrong.”

Y/N folded her arms, considering their words. “So no inside information? Nothing unusual in his behaviour or flight patterns before the crash?”

Both men shook their heads. “No,” Rooster replied. “Everything seemed normal during the briefing and take-off. Whatever happened, it must’ve been in the air.”

“Or in his head,” Jake added, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s going on up there, even with the best pilots.”

Y/N nodded, appreciating their input. “Alright, well, here’s what we’ve got so far,” she said, launching into a detailed explanation.

“The crash happened early this morning. Raptor nosedived into the runway, and while he’s alive, the aircraft is totalled. The Navy’s investigating the mechanical side, but they want us to assess whether there was any human interference—either pressure from above, negligence, or if this was intentional. The stakes are high. A $15 million jet destroyed can’t just be written off as an accident without a full inquiry. We’re looking into everything: the ground crew, flight logs, maintenance records, and Raptor’s personal state of mind.”

Bradley listened intently, his arms crossed over his chest, while Jake’s eyes narrowed, taking it all in. “That’s serious,” Rooster finally said, his voice low. “If there’s any suspicion of intentional sabotage or negligence, he’s looking at major charges.”

“Exactly,” Y/N agreed. “We’re trying to avoid that if it’s not warranted, but we need to be thorough.”

Jake leaned against the side of a nearby truck, his expression a mix of intrigue and something close to admiration. “Well, Detective, you’ve got your work cut out for you. Anything we can do to help?”

Y/N smiled at him, though her mind was already racing with the possibilities. “Just stay close in case we need anything. I might need to talk to the other pilots too.”

Rooster nodded. “We’ll be around. And hey, it’s good to see you again, Y/N.”

“You too, Bradley,” she replied softly before glancing back at Jake, who gave her one last charming grin as they walked away.

“Don’t be a stranger, Detective,” Jake called after her with a wink.

---

The four-hour mark at the crash site. The long day was wearing on both of them, but Y/N was no stranger to gruelling hours. She had spent countless days on crime scenes, sifting through endless evidence, and poring over tiny details that could make or break a case. Yet, this one seemed different—something about it felt dead in the water.

They had examined the wreckage from every angle, spoken to the ground crew, double-checked the maintenance logs, and even consulted with the flight team. But nothing substantial had emerged to indicate foul play. It seemed more and more like a tragic case of pilot error, despite the nagging feeling in Y/N’s gut that something wasn’t right.

She straightened up from where she had been crouching near the debris, wiping her hands on her jeans and squinting in the fading light. Miles walked over, notebook in hand, looking exhausted but still eager.

“What do you think, Detective?” Miles asked, his voice quieter than usual, likely from the hours of tension.

Y/N sighed, her eyes scanning the crumpled remains of the jet one last time. “I think this is a dead case for us,” she admitted reluctantly. “There’s no solid evidence of foul play, no suspicious activity leading up to the crash. It’s looking more like a tragic mistake than anything else.”

Miles nodded slowly, clearly taking her lead, though he looked a little deflated. “So, we’re calling it?”

“We’ll let the Navy finish their mechanical investigation, but as far as our end goes, yeah, I’m calling it,” Y/N said, her tone final but not unkind. “You did good today, Miles. I know it’s not the ending we were hoping for, but sometimes cases just don’t pan out the way you think they will.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, scratching the back of his neck. “I get it. But it’s frustrating.”

“It is,” she said, giving him a small smile. “But that’s part of the job. Let’s head back. I’ll debrief with Rooster and Hangman, and we’ll wrap this up.”

Together, they made their way back toward where Rooster and Hangman had been waiting by the hangar. Y/N could see them leaning against the side of a truck, deep in conversation. When they saw her and Miles approaching, Rooster straightened up, his expression expectant.

“How’s it looking?” Rooster asked, his tone hopeful but cautious.

Y/N shook her head. “Not much to go on. I’m calling it a dead case for us. The Navy can finish their investigation, but we haven’t found anything that suggests sabotage or intentional destruction.”

Rooster sighed softly, nodding in understanding. “Alright, thanks for looking into it anyway. I know Raptor’s not going to be thrilled, but it’s better than a criminal charge hanging over his head.”

At that moment, Miles stepped forward, looking a little nervous but determined. “Actually, Lieutenant Bradshaw, I still have a few more questions for you—just to tie up some loose ends.”

Rooster raised an eyebrow but gave a nod, turning his attention fully to Miles. “Sure thing, Officer. What do you need?”

As Rooster and Miles moved off to the side, Y/N turned to see Jake “Hangman” Seresin watching her with that signature grin plastered across his face. His charm seemed almost effortless, like it was second nature to him.

“Well, Detective,” Hangman said, pushing off from the truck and sauntering over to her with a slight swagger. “Since Rooster’s busy, how about I walk you to your car? It’s the least I can do after you’ve been out here all day in the sun.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling the tension in her shoulders begin to ease for the first time in hours. There was something disarming about Hangman’s confidence. Normally, she would’ve felt guarded, maybe even slightly intimidated by a guy like him. But right now? For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel that way.

“Sure,” she said with a smirk. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

They began walking across the tarmac together, the gentle evening breeze cooling the hot air from the long day. Hangman kept pace beside her, his hands tucked casually into his flight suit pockets, his easy smile never faltering.

“So,” he began, his tone light, “you’re telling me that after spending four hours out here investigating a crash and coming up empty, you still manage to look this good? I’ve got to say, I’m impressed.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, though she couldn’t help but smile. “Is that your best line, Lieutenant? You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Maybe,” Hangman drawled, his Texas accent coming through thick. “But I figure, why mess with what works?”

Y/N shook her head, but she was still smiling. “Is this how you charm all the women you meet?”

He gave her a faux-hurt expression. “Not all the women, Detective. Just the ones who look like they could outsmart me and outshoot me in the same day.”

Y/N laughed, a real laugh, and she realized how rare that had become. Jake was flirty, sure, but in a way that wasn’t overbearing or disrespectful. He wasn’t pushing boundaries—just toeing the line, making her feel lighter after such a long, draining day.

As they reached her car, she stopped, turning to face him. Hangman looked down at her with a playful spark in his eyes, clearly not ready to let the moment end.

“Well, thanks for the escort, Lieutenant Seresin,” Y/N said, her voice softer now. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her work card, handing it to him. “Here. This has my number on it—in case you ever feel like texting. I’m… open to it.”

For a moment, Jake looked surprised, but that charming smile returned quickly as he took the card from her hand. His fingers brushed hers lightly, sending a small spark up her arm. “Now, that’s an offer I won’t pass up,” he said smoothly, tucking the card into his pocket. “You can expect a text soon, Detective. Count on it.”

Y/N felt a strange flutter in her chest as she smiled at him one last time, sliding into her car. As she closed the door and started the engine, Jake stepped back, giving her a two-finger salute before watching her drive away.

For the first time in years, the idea of someone flirting with her didn’t make her feel guarded or anxious. Instead, it felt… nice. Maybe it was Hangman’s easy-going confidence, or maybe it was just time for her to feel something other than the weight of responsibility. Either way, she wasn’t opposed to seeing where things might lead.

As she drove away from the base, Y/N glanced at her phone in the cup holder. And for the first time in a long while, she found herself hoping that a certain charming fighter pilot would follow through on his promise.

[raya-hunter01]

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt. 6

Roman X OC(Kara)

Jey Uso X OC (Tia)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspicious.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

Six Months Later

Pensacola, Fl

Roman's House

That’s it….Ten years and it’s over just by signing some papers," I said as my mom sat beside me while I looked at a copy of the divorce papers.

“Roman, you messed up and what you did was unforgivable. This is all that should matter to you right now,” my mother said placing Logan in my arms as I sat her on my lap.

Her little smile as she put her tiny fist in her mouth made my heart smile.

 “I know princess, granny needs to hurry up your bottle, don’t she?” I said chuckling as she laughed at the sounds coming out of her mouth as I gently bounced her on my lap.

“Granny only got two hands and she’s coming.”

“I’m just kidding Ma, I’m happy you here and don’t know what I’d do without you and Ma Rebecca. I just hoped that Kara and I could have work things out, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Son, I’mma need you to snap outta this because this little girl needs her father, and she needs you focused on her. She already ain’t got a damn mama if we keeping it real,” my mom said cutting me deep with her words, but it was true.

I had got Tia transferred to Raw to get her outta my hair, which has been a godsend. She sees Logan whenever the mood hits or she needs something. She still won’t sign over her rights…

“I am focused on her. I’ve gotten my schedule lighter. She going to start traveling with me..I got that part mama; I just need Kara now.”

“Roman! Kara is not going to help you raise a baby that is not only a reminder that you betrayed her, but its mother is her sister! Now you starting to scare me with your delusion. It’s over son and you set this all in motion…

"Mama, I know-"

"Deal with it and figure out a way to get that fool to sign over her rights. Hell, call your lawyer back and tell him you want to go for full custody and don’t give her no money,” she said, giving me Logan's bottle before leaving the room without another word.

“I guess it’s just us, huh, baby girl?” I asked feeding her as she gripped my hand greedily sucking her bottle

Taking my mother’s advice, after feeding Loogan and burping her, I quickly shot my lawyer a text to go ahead with getting Tia served.

Hopefully, he could get it done today before she leaves out for Raw later on today.

After laying Logan down I went on Instagram and saw Jey had posted a live and had pinned it to his page. Being nosey, I clicked on it and instantly wished I didn’t.

Jey was filming the highway, the road almost seemed deserted the Boston skyline in view. I knew it well from the few times I had visited Kara.

As I was about to get off, I heard a familiar laugh as Piece of my love by Guy began playing in the background.

“It's 5 am, we out here Boston! What ya’ll know bout ridin’ round the city, listening to dat good old school music, just vibin’ wit yo’ people,” he said turning the camera on Kara who was driving and dancing in her seat.

“You can have a piece of my love,” she softly sang shooting Jey a quick glance with a smile when she saw he was recording her.  

“It’s waiting for you,” Jey said slyly finishing the lyric without missing a beat as Kara laughed and turned her attention back to the road shaking her head.  

“You ain’t ready for this Mr. Fatu,” Kara muttered under her breath as I growled.

“A’ight now, you know I stay ready,” he said chuckling, turning around showing Trin asleep with her head in Jimmy’s lap. “What’s up ya’ll,” Jimmy said nodding his head to the music.

Damn, I kinda miss the days of my cousins and I traveling and just vibin' without a care. It made the time go by and if I’m honest I missed them all.

“We’re almost there,” I heard Kara say as Jey flipped the camera to show his face. “A’ight, we out ya’ll, we gettin' ready to turn it in. Been a long ass flight, and we bout to all get some sleep,” he said abruptly ending the live.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered trying not to disturb Logan as she slept.

He just won’t give up, what right did he have even being in the car with her? A car I paid for…Sleeping in the house I’m paid for…

Damn, why couldn’t he stay away from her?

---

Kara’s Condo

Boston, MA

Kara’s Pov

“Jey, if you ask me one more time if I really want to come tonight I’mma slap the fuck outta you,” I said as he held his hands up in surrender.

“Aye, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I know Tia gon’ be there,” he said as I shook my head.

“I’m going to watch your Raw debut, I ain’t worried about Tia and whatever drama she got going on,” I said reassuring him as he gave me a hug.

“I’ll see you later,” he whispered giving me a kiss on the cheek

“Ya’ll drive safe, I’ll see you in a bit,” I said as he picked up his bag, heading for the door.

“Sis, you comin’ right?” he asked as Trin smiled.

“Yes, I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll ride with Kara over there,” she said as he gave her a thumbs up before leaving.

“He’s such a goof, should have seen him in the car rental place,” Trin said as I laughed pouring us a glass of wine.

“Trin, he means well, don’t do him like that,” I said as she chuckled.

“I know he does and look at you defending your man.”

“He isn’t my man Trin.”

“You know I can’t wait for ya’ll to finally get together. Especially since you’ve already test drove the merchandise.” Trin said as I coughed, almost spitting out my wine as she laughed.

“I can’t believe you,” I coughed as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Aye, just calling it like I see it. You were riding him like you were at the rodeo weren’t you?”

“It was good too…Ugh, see, I hate I even told you. Now I’m thinking about it,” I laughed as Trin sipped on her wine unbothered.

“I’m just sayin’ if you need that itch scratched, Jey’s a willing participant.”

“Trin, in all seriousness though, I’m just trying to focus on getting back to me right now. I got a lot of shit to process before I even think about being somebody’s girlfriend.”

“I get it, you don’t want to take that energy and resentment into a new relationship,” Trin said as sighed in relief, someone finally got what I had been trying to say.

“Speaking of Roman, these the divorce papers, huh,” Trin said picking up the stack of papers off the table.

“Yep, it’s a done deal. I can breathe now,” I said sitting next to her and sipping on my glass of wine.

Roman and I went through therapy as suggested by our lawyers. It was terrible but I made it through. Roman was upset that I still wanted to go through with the divorce, but he didn’t contest it anymore.

“I can’t believe he sent you flowers,” Trin said reaching over to look at the note that was attached to the bouquet of red and white roses.

“Thank you for trying, I know I didn’t deserve it. Just know I will always love you and I’m always here. Maybe we can be friends someday -Roman.”

“Damn……Do you think you’ll ever forgive him?” Trin asked as I sighed putting down my glass.

“I think I forgave him the moment he broke down and cried in therapy about what happened. The more he talked, the more I realized at first, he was a victim in Tia’s game.”

“I can see that, but what about after the first time?”

“That’s where he has to take accountability, he made some choices that he’s going to have to deal with the consequences of and it’s no longer my problem,” I said as Trin nodded in understanding.

“Now…Tia on the other hand, I’m avoiding that bitch like the plague tonight. I don’t want to go to jail,” I said as Trin laughed.

“I feel you cause even though I got bail money you too cute for jail,” she said as I held up my glass and we toasted.

“Here’s to Jey and a night of celebration,” I said honestly happy for the first time in a long time.

I was going to see Jey tonight and for tonight none of the drama with Tia mattered. This was about Jey and his new beginnings as a singles wrestler.

-----

Monday Night Raw

Jey’s POV

“Man, I can’t believe I’m here,” I said nervously pacing as Jimmy shook his head at me.

“Aye, calm down and enjoy this moment. You gon’ be fine,” he said as I saw Tia coming over.

“Ah hell,” I whispered as Jimmy turned around chuckled. “You already know she gon’ try you.” Jimmy whispered as I rubbed the back of my neck.

“Man, I ain’t got time for this shit,” I whispered as Tia smiled walking past Jimmy as if he wasn’t there. “Well hello to you too, Tia,” he said as she shot him a sly smile before turning back to me.

“Hey, Jey long time no see,” she said with a flirty smile.

“You just really have you no shame,” Jimmy asked as she rolled her eyes at him.

“I’m just talking to him, no harm in that,” she whispered as I looked at her in disbelief.

“Jimmy, give us a minute, Uce,” I said as he got up and left us alone.

“Jey, I just thought since you’re going to be on the Raw brand we could catch up some time,” Tia said as I looked at her like she was crazy.

“Uh, I don’t even like you like that,” I said as she walked closer.

“I’m just trying to welcome you to Raw, I know it gets lonely on the road. Maybe we could reconnect and make some magic happen,” she said touching my chest as I backed away.

“Tia, I think you need help…Like mental help, your obsession with Kara and the people she loves ain’t normal,” I said trying to wrap my brain around how crazy she was.

“I’m not worried about her, I know I’m the better woman and you know it too,” she said trying to put my arms around her as I backed away with my hands in the air.

“Look, don’t ever try me like dat ever again. You know I love Kara and unlike Roman I’m hip to your bullshit. Stay away from me and Kara,” I said as she frowned.

“Kara don’t love you, if she did, ya’ll would have been together years ago,” Tia said spitefully with a smirk.

“Tia tend to your own business, and be a mom to your child. You know the one who hasn’t heard from you in months while you parade on this show and in the streets like a cat in heat,” I said as the smirk fell from her face.

“I have settled that with her father and it’s none of your concern. Still, Kara’s lap log I see,” Tia said as I chuckled.

“Still jealous of your sister, I see,” I said as she slapped me.

“Tia…… Get some help,” I said taking myself out of the situation and walking away from her. “Jey! I’ll see you soon, the road gets lonely!” she yelled as I kept walking.

I needed to get ready for the show and I didn’t have time for her craziness.

“Hey, what was all of that Jey?” Tom, who was one of the higher ups asked, stopping me before I got to my dressing room.

Great, the last thing I needed was him taking this back to Paul causing an issue. I just got here and didn’t need no drama.

“Uh, just some personal stuff, but I took care of it,” I said as he nodded. “Well, that was really unprofessional how she was acting. That was sexual harassment.”

“Look, I gotta get ready for the show. It’s all good Uce, I took care of it” I said trying to get him to drop the subject, but I knew by the look on his face it wasn’t going to be the last I heard about it.

---

Monday Night Raw

Kara’s POV

“Mom, you don’t have to throw me a party,” I said as Trin, and I pulled into the building.

“Sweetie, you got accepted back into medical school. We are celebrating and that’s final,” she said as Trin smiled.

“You know we game for barbecue, yo’ daddy can throw down. I’ll get Jimmy to do that Samoan dish you like too,” Trin added.

“The one with the pineapple chicken?” I asked as Trin nodded… “Oh, I’m there,” I said as Trin, and my mom laughed.

“Thanks for the reinforcements Trin. Sweetie, Logan will be here on Friday, but if you’re uncomfortable Janice can get her,” my mom said as I sighed.

“Mama, I will be fine. I know it’s your weekend to have Logan I wouldn’t do that,” I said as the line got quiet.

“I don’t want you to be overwhelmed baby,” my mom said as I gave Trin a small smile.

“It’s ok mom, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Enjoy the show baby, and I’ll see you Thursday, love you.”

“Love you too mom,” I said, hanging up and taking a deep breath.

“You know it’s ok to not be ok,” Trin said as I parked the car.

“I’m ok…I just don’t see myself being heavily involved in Logan’s life. Does that make me a terrible person?” I asked as Trin looked at me with a sad smile.

“No, it makes you a person that has been hurt and your feelings are valid, but I also know you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means if that baby needed anything you would make sure she had it,” Trin said as I bit my lower lip trying not to cry.

“I would, but I don’t see myself babysitting and doing all the other auntie stuff, it would be a constant reminder of everything,” I said as Trin nodded.

“Maybe as time passes you will feel different,” Trin said as we walked towards the talent entrance.

“I don’t think so Trin, even though she’s not to blame for what her parents did.” I said as Trin showed her ID and we got our passes from security.

“Well, let’s just enjoy tonight and worry about everything else later,” Trin said as we headed inside to get ready for the show.

“You won’t hear no complaints from me,” I said happy we could just go enjoy the show. No more Roman, Tia, or Logan talk.

------

Monday Night Raw

Jey’s POV

Man, the crowd is on fire and rocking, but it’s only one face I’m looking for right now and I can’t find her. Finally, after Sami left the ring, I spotted Kara in the third row wearing my hoodie.

Trin was beside her in a ball cap and her reading glasses, I had to give it to them they blended in well with the crowd. I’m glad too because the last thing I wanted was someone to take pictures of them and posting it online.

I can see the headlines now “Roman Reigns ex-wife attends Raw with TNA superstar Trinity.”

Getting out of the ring I signaled for Kara to head backstage as she nodded and whispered to Trin.

Once I saw them grab their things, I slowly made my way up the ramp. Everything was finally sinking in as the crowd continued to sing my music and I wanted to take it all in.

Tonight is something I will never forget, giving them one final wave I went backstage into gorilla and was met with a round of applause.

“Welcome to Raw Uce!” Cody said giving me a hug.

“Thanks, man I’m glad to be here, Uce,” I said looking around for Kara but didn’t see her. Where are they? I know they had their passes.

“Hey, don’t freak out, they made it back. Kara just didn’t want people in ya’ll business. Go down the hall and make a right, she’s there waiting for you,” Cody said as I smiled.

“Aye, good lookin’ out Uce,” I said shaking his hand before going to find Kara.

 Rounding the corner, there she was leaning up against the wall with her hands in her pockets.

“How did I do?” I asked as she looked at me with a smile, running towards me and jumping in my arms as I held her close.

“Amazing, I’m so proud of you,” she whispered against my ear as I sighed holding her tighter.

“Thank you for ridin’ wit me and believin’ in me.”

“E le aunoa ma le faavavau” she said as felt my heart swell.

“Always and forever,” I said as she looked at me with a shy smile.

Our moment was short lived as I saw Jimmy and Trin heading towards us. “Aye, that was awesome Uce,” Jimmy said as put Kara down and Trin came over to give me a hug.

“Alright now brother-in-law. That’s what I’m talking about.”

“Thanks, sis,” I said watching Kara as Jimmy put his arm around her as she welcomed his embrace, leaning her head against him.

 Releasing Trin from my embrace I saw a look of confusion pass Kara’s face for a second before she tried to play it off.

I looked over my shoulder and there in the corner hiding behind the curtain was Tia.

She was watching Kara like a hawk, almost envious. Something was wrong. Something wasn’t clicking in Tia’s head.

“She just won’t get the hint, huh?” Jimmy asked as I shook my head signaling for him to shut up.

“Get the hint about what?” Kara asked as I lightly pushed Jimmy.

“I handled it, why you even had to bring it up,” I hissed as he shook his head.

“Look at that fool over there staring at us, does it look like she understood what you said,” Jimmy countered as I sighed.

“I handled it, Uce.”

“Uh, can somebody tell us what’s going on?” Trin asked as Kara looked at me.

“Look, Tia came on to me, I shut it down, we exchanged some words and that was it,” I said as Kara chuckled, shaking her head at Trin, who seemed nervous.

“Now, remember what we talked about earlier Kara,” Trin said as Kara looked at her with a smile.

“Oh, I remember, I’m just gon’ go holla at her for a minute…. Excuse me,” Kara said walking towards Tia who was smirking.

“Kara it ain’t worth it,” I said as she walked up to Tia. “Hey sis, long time no see, it’s been about what…Six months,” Tia said with a smile.

Kara’s POV

“Yea, it has, and I see your still up to the same bullshit,” I said wanting to smack the smirk off her face.

“What? I just offered Jey a good time, the road can be stressful, especially on the man. You know that better than anyone right?” Tia asked as I chuckled at her lame attempt to rile me up.

“You should know by now offering your services to taken men never works out in your favor though, does it? I mean you get so desperate you let men call you by their wives names while they fuck you.” I said not caring who knew at this point.

“Damn…You get down like that Tia?” Jimmy asked as Trin sighed. “Jurdy, I’ll fill you in later, be quiet," she whispered as Tia had the nerve to look embarrassed.

“He’ll come to me…They all come to-”

“Look, I’mma keep it short and sweet because I don’t have time for your games.”

“Oou lil sis is hot because she knows if I want Jey, I could take him.” Tia said as I chuckled as I felt Jey behind me.

 “Keep your distance, Tia,” I said as she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please,” she muttered as I felt the urge to knock her ass out.

 “Tia! Come near him again, and that last ass whoopin’ I gave you will feel like a walk in the park…Try me.” I hissed as Jey gently grabbed my hand unclenching my fist.

“Kara, let’s go” Jey said as I refused to move. “I look forward to it,” Tia taunted as Jey shook his head trying to put a little distance between me and Tia.

“Man, gon’ wit dat bullshit, Tia. You done did enough now,” Jey said as I stepped into her space as she nervously bit her lip.

“I’mma stomp yo’ ass in the ground, keep coming at me like you crazy.”

“Aye, Tia, I know you a couple chocolate chips short of a cookie, but you better find you something safe to do. That ain’t the move baby girl,” Jimmy said as Tia growled.

“I hate you bitch!”

“Hate….Nah, you love me….Love me so much you wanna be me and apparently want every dick that’s ever been inside me too,” I said casually as Jey cleared his throat putting his arm around my waist trying to hold me back.

“Been inside you! Twin, you done hit the homie and ain’t said shit!” Jimmy exclaimed as Trin sighed.

 “Jurdy, read the room, keep up, and shut the hell up,” she said as Jimmy got quiet.

“You nasty bitch!” Tia shouted as I smirked at her. “Nah, that would be you and your sour-ass pussy,” I said, as Jey pulled me close steering me away from Tia.

“A’ight, let’s go ma. We need to talk,” Jey said as I looked back at Tia as a stagehand approached her.

“Tia, bossman wants to see you,” he said as Tia plastered on a smile following him.

“I’ll see you soon Jey,” she laughed as I tried to get out of Jey’s embrace.

“Fuckin’ parasite,” I hissed as Jey pulled me into his locker room, locking the door behind us.

“Are you done?” he asked as I rolled my eyes irritated as hell.

“No…..She always is up to something, I just don’t understand,” I said as Jey took off his black jacket, tossing it on the couch.

Damn, he looked fine as hell…Focus Kara, you're mad right now.

“Don’t let it bother you, the stuff she doin’, it don’t even matter.”

“What do you mean it don’t matter? “I asked as a look of determination adorned his handsome face as he slowly came towards me, almost like a lion stalking its prey.

“You ain’t slick, you know what you be doing wit ya chest and tattoos all out,” I said as he laughed. “I'm serious, you can stay over there, sir.”  His smile making it hard for me to stay angry.

“I ain’t doin’ nothing,” he whispered closing the distance between us as I tried to remain strong.

 “Yes, you are, Jey,” I whispered, feeling like my heart race as he caressed my face with his hands. Closing my eyes, I felt the tension leaving my body simply from his touch.

“I’mma need you to realize something important,” he said as I melted even further into his touch.

“What do I need to realize?” I asked, his lips dangerously close to mine. “I only want you; I’ve always only wanted you,” he whispered our lips meeting in a searing kiss.

It had been six months since the last time our lips touched and the

Feeling lightheaded I clung to him as our tongues fought for dominance, with Jey winning in the end as I whimpered in need.

He had me Feenin’ for more as we reluctantly parted to catch our breaths.

“Kara, you ain’t gotta worry about Tia, I ain’t Roman. I ain’t jeopardizing being with you for nobody,” Jey said reassuring me as I nodded.

I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that until now.

“Jey, I don’t want you to feel obligated to do all this. Visting me every week, being there-” I started as he cut me off with a gentle kiss.

“When you’re ready, I’m ready. I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he whispered wiping my tears I didn’t even know had fallen.

“You ain’t gotta cry no more, I got you….Until my last breath, I got you.”

“I know,” I whispered leaning against his chest enjoying being wrapped up in his arms.

Damn her..Damn me for allowing Tia to rile me up. I was making strides, but everything still had me fucked up.

Damn Tia and Roman for that matter….

“Do you want to go out with us to eat?” Jey asked as I chuckled looking at him. “Nah, ya’ll can go eat, I got to finish an assignment. Someone had me chauffeuring them around this morning before daylight, even had to take them at a rental this afternoon,” I joked as he laughed.

“Aye, we said thank you. But real talk, tomorrow I wanna take you out and spend some time wit you before we leave out on Wednesday,” he said as I smiled, actually looking forward to it.

“I’mma hold you to that,” I whispered, ignoring my vibrating phone in my back pocket.

-----

Kara’s Condo

Roman’s POV

“Pick up the phone Kara,” I muttered dialing her once again as it goes to voicemail.

“It’s your girl Kara, I’m busy so leave your message at the beep and I’ll get back with you.”

“Kara, just please call me back..I..I need to see you.”

Ending the call, I dialed her right back but this time it went straight to voicemail.

“Did you just ignore my call? Are you with him?…..You are…. Your with Jey ain’t you? Is he kissin on you?......Is he holdin’ you like I used too, dickin’ you down like me. Hmm….Hmm…..Answer the damn phone Kara!” I yelled, hanging up trying to calm myself down.

I tried to wait, but she playin’…Pulling out my spare key to her condo I let myself in.

Did she know I had a key? No…. But that is beside the point.

I felt resentful as I took in how she had the house decorated so welcoming.

“My beautiful family tree,” I muttered reading the letters above the painted tree on the wall of the living room. Pictures of her parents, her brother, even pictures of her and Jey throughout the years. Hell, Jimmy and Trin made the family tree wall.

“I can’t believe this shit,” I hissed, walking into Kara’s bedroom, getting even more pissed seeing Jey’s bag beside her bed.

“In my fucking house,” I muttered looking around the room.

That live from Jey rattled me so much this morning, I charted my jet this evening and flew straight here.

He really been in here, layin’ in this bed with Kara…My Kara…. I don’t give a damn what no divorce papers say…She’s still mine.

I needed to know how deep this shit was getting between Kara and Jey and I needed to know now.

Fucking him one time to get back at me is one thing but actually being in a relationship with him is taking shit too far.

 Hearing the door open, I sat in the chair by the bed. I didn’t care who was with her, we were going to talk.

“I’m fine Jey, I just got inside,” she said as I snarled. “I’m going to shower and finish up my assignment. Just bring me back a fry and a ginger ale. I’m not that hungry, it’s late.”

“Really? Oh, he just Mr. perfect, huh. Doin’ late night ginger ale runs,” I seethed quietly hearing the happiness in Kara’s voice.

“Ok I’ll see ya’ll in a few,” she said, ending the call as I heard her moving around the hall.

“That man,” I heard her sigh as I felt the jealousy within me burning deep.

I had to stifle a groan as she opened the door and I saw she had taken off her shirt. “What tha shit!” Kara screamed, covering herself with her shirt as I stood up.

“Kara, where you been?” I asked as she looked at me in confusion. Almost like she thought she was hallucinating.

“What the hell are you doing in my house Roman?!” Kara yelled turning on the light.

“I wanted to see how your little visit with my cousin was goin’ but you ain’t answered my question. Where you been, because Raw ended about two hours ago?” I asked, walking towards Kara as she put her shirt back on.

“First of all, who da fuck do you think you are! We’re divorced, where I am and who I’m with is none of your damn concern. Now how did you get in here?!” Kara yelled pissed off as I scoffed.

“I had this made before the landlord gave you the keys. I mean did you really think, I was gon’ let you be out here and not check in on you.” I said as she reached for the keys, but I put it back in my pocket.

Kara’s POV

“This ain’t checkin’ in, this is stalking. You shouldn’t be here at all! Give me the keys Roman!” I yelled, still in shock I had found him in my bedroom, sitting in here like a fuckin’ serial killer.

“Have you slept with Jey since that night?” Roman asked as I looked at him like he was crazy.

“That is none of your business, give me the key, Roman!” I yelled as he ignored me.

“Not until you tell me, then I’ll give it to you.”

“Have you been drinking?” I asked, smelling the alcohol on his breath as he came a little closer.

“I ain’t drunk, I am in control Kara. I got this shit, I only had a brandy on the plane.”

“I can’t tell you flew from Pensacola to Boston to ask if I’m fucking your cousin,” I said as he rolled his eyes.

“Are you fuckin’ him, it’s a simple question?!” Roman yelled as I sighed rubbing my temples.

“Answer me, Kara.”

“Do you see a ring on my finger..No you don’t because I am single. You made sure I became single when you stuck your dick in my sister and got her pregnant!” I screamed as Roman came even closer.

“Are you fucking Jey? It’s either yes or no Kara.”

“It’s none of your business, just give me the keys and leave Roman.”

“Just answer the question, Kara!” Roman screamed as I looked at him like he was crazy.

“Roman, I’mma need you to calm do-”

“I have tried and tried to get back together wit you and this is the thanks I get!  You out here with him in MY HOUSE that I’M PAYIN’ for!” Roman ranted as something inside me flipped.

“It’s MY HOUSE and I don’t owe you shit! Get out!.....Now Roman!”

His arrogant stance as he refused to move pissed me off even more. He really thinks he can control me..

“I ain’t leavin’ till you answer me,” he said as I nodded in understanding.

“Ok, I see I’mma have to remind you with who you dealin’ wit,” I said leaving the room.

“Where you goin’ Kara, I aint done talkin’ to you,” Roman said walking behind me as I went into the kitchen.

“I told you to get out, but you trippin’. You trippin’ hard but let me help you out, let me get on your level,” I said reaching in the drawer pulling out my large chef’s knife as Roman growled in frustration, but backed up a little.

“Really, so you gon’ stab me Kara?” he asked as I pointed the knife in his direction.

“Roman I promise you, we gon’ be on an episode of The First 48 if you don’t leave the keys and get outta my damn house!” I screamed as he sighed, reaching in his pocket putting the keys on the counter.

“Kara, we need to talk about Je-”

“I don’t want to talk to you…I want you out!” I cried as Roman sighed, turning around to leave. A wave of relief washing over me as I heard the door close.

Trying to control my tears I tried to take a few deep breaths as I looked at the keys on the counter.

He really had keys made to my house and came in here trying to tell me what to do.

Another reason I didn’t want his money everyone was advising me to take. He thinks he owns me.

“Definitely getting the locks changed,” I whispered heading to lock the front door, stumbling back in shock seeing Roman with his hands up in the air being held at gunpoint by Tia.

“Oh, hey sis, come on in and join the party, I mean you are the guest of honor after all,” Tia said as Roman looked back at me. His remorseful gaze pierced my soul as she smiled, pointing the gun at me.

"Oh, my God."

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[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

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Everyone has their favorite cousin; for you, it's Sabrina.

A year younger than you, she shines brighter than any star. Whenever Aunt came to visit, the two of you would escape to worlds of your own creation.

In the comfort of your childhood backyard, two pink napkins were laid out, creating the perfect setting for a whimsical tea party. Cookies and toy cups waited on the makeshift tables. She would always wear her little crown that she never forgot to bring, and you would eagerly gather your beloved stuffed animals to join the celebration as additional guests.

Born to a single teenage mother—who, in Mother's eyes, was the height of irresponsibility, “unfit” for motherhood—Sabrina was forever shrouded in your mother's harsh judgment that "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." That she would follow in her mother's footsteps, and it wouldn't be so surprising.

But Sabrina was far from the “troubled child,” grew into a girl warmer than the summer sun, kinder than the gentle grace of spring.

Sabrina was your favorite cousin, the one you wished could maintain the kind of closeness you shared during your youth. However, just as everything good in your life, fate always had a way of destroying it.

When Sabrina’s mother married a kind, steady man after years, it was as if a switch flipped inside Mother. Gone was any goodness she had shown to her sister and Sabrina. Any invitation from Sabrina’s mom was met with excuses—"we were too busy,” “it wasn’t a good time.” Lies, more lies. The real reason was far more simple: it was the bitter, green-eyed jealousy.

Mother always did crave pity and attention from others. But the pity she received from family after Father left wasn’t the kind she wanted.

It symbolizes her failure—now, a single mother struggling when her sister thrived with her loving husband and another baby on the way. And when Sabrina’s stepfather agreed to pay for Sabrina to start taking ballet classes like you, Mother took it as competition.

She had made ballet your personal hell.

While Mother brags about your ballet success, flaunting ribbons and reviews, her pride has a price behind closed doors. Nothing is enough to satisfy her, and the standards she holds for you reach for the impossible. Every competition is followed by a barrage of criticism—you could have placed higher, pointed your toes more.

Third place? "You’re wasting my money, girl." Second place earns you a dismissive "Second only means you’re second best." Even first place yields her saying, "Don’t get a big head over a stupid ribbon. It doesn't mean you're the best; it just means everyone else was worse."

Just as everything is good in your life, fate always has a way of destroying it.

(Or is it your mother?)

The old, naïve part of your mind argues that she's doing this for your own good. After all, diamonds aren’t made without pressure—a familiar refrain she repeats every time you beg her to stop, every time you sob so intensely that you struggle to breathe, feeling like a sacrificial lamb. And every time, she just watches in detached observation, with the slight upturn of her lips like a scientist admiring the results of her own making. Like a woodcarver appreciating the strokes of her knife.

Like a mother to her daughter.

(Because she's my mother, she should want the best for me, right?)

And that old, naïve part of your brain is still alive, apparently, even after you’ve left home and settled miles away. She's your mother; she must have your best interests at heart, even though the harshest words often come from her mouth.

She only has your future in mind, even if sometimes you wonder if she loves you at all.

The subtle thump of the car against the window jolted you out of your memories, and you opened your heavy eyelids, groggily regaining your bearings. You wiped your dry lips, relieved no drool dripping your chin in your nap. Looking out the window, you could see the trees whizzing by. Beside you, Simon's eyes fixed intently on the empty, straight road ahead.

At first, you had firmly convinced yourself that you wouldn't attend Sabrina's wedding, giving Simon excuses of work obligations and other lies to justify your absence. Then, Henri happens: he decreed the entire week mandatory rest for all dancers—prompted by the high stress level, but it's likely a more... specific case of frustration that pushed him over the edge: a certain ballerina who still danced her Black Swan coda like a flailing, drunken mess.

Finding yourself with an open schedule due to the unexpected break, emptiness now filled your time, leaving ample room for unwanted negative feelings—specifically, guilt. You end up reconsidering everything, even taking a Barbie out of your worn cardboard box from the closet. The doll bore the results of your and Sabrina's "artistic" minds, its hair chopped off and skin adorned with Sharpie tattoos. He responds to the doll's rough state with a sarcastic compliment.

That’s how you ended up on a short road trip with Simon. The man’s long leg stepped on the accelerator as the car continued to speed through the English countryside. Glancing up, the tiny skeleton charm swung gently where it hung, its hollow sockets seeming to stare back at you.

“Are we almost there?” you asked Simon.

At your question, he turns to you, eyes lingering for a moment before redirecting his focus on the road. “Reckon another five minutes, and we’ll be pulling up.” 

You look out the window. More trees; the dense forest seems to go on forever. Finally, a break appears, and up ahead looms the sturdy building you assume is the venue listed on the wedding invitation.

It was a manor, with solid brown brick walls and a three-story structure topped by a roof spanning each wing. Double-paneled doors were flanked by columns and arched windows. All around, emerald grass was cut to perfection, not a single blade out of place. In the center stood a two-tiered fountain, adorned with carvings of little angels spouting water into a circular pool. It was a heartwarming, romantic storybook vision.

Tearing your eyes from the scene, you glance over at Simon in amazement. “You certainly seem to know your way without GPS.” You comment.

He gave a noncommittal grunt, one-handedly turning the steering wheel as he maneuvered the car into an open spot behind a row of others. “Got a good sense o' direction, is all.”

As the rumble of the engine fell silent, you unbuckled your seatbelt but lingered in your seat, not quite ready to exit the safety of the vehicle. Through the window, you searched for distractions to ignore the uneasy flips in your stomach.

Simon reached out to reach the dashboard; you moved back slightly to give him more room. He grabbed for his plain black surgical mask, but your curious gaze landed on something else. A pair of black gloves—each finger had a contrasting white skeleton bone. You leaned in without thinking, drawing them out to inspect closely.

“I see you have a thing for skeleton.”

Simon glanced sideways at you as he hooked his mask over his ears. “Keep things interestin’,” he said lightly, voice muffled by the material. He pressed the wire along the bridge to mold it to the shape of his nose.

Pulling his keys from the ignition switch, he pocketed them with a jingle. Simon pushed open the door and stepped out in one smooth movement. He rounded the front of the car, walking to reach for your door. Pulling the handle to assist your exit, you took a deep breath before accepting his offer and slipping out of the vehicle.

A loud gasp pierced the air, followed by rapid footsteps rushing towards you. You turned your head from the sound of your name being called, finding a familiar face staring back at you. Sabrina. Now, a grown woman, changed from the girl you once knew. She stretched out her arms as she pulled you into a tight hug, blonde curls bouncing with her joyful smile.

“You came!” She cried happily, pulling back to look at you. “I’m so glad you made it!”

You returned her smile, your nerves melting away from her presence alone—the magic Sabrina had on everyone. “I wouldn’t miss your big day,” you told her.

She swept her eyes over you from head to toe appraisingly. “And look at you! So beautiful!” she said, and you were sure it was just the dress you had bought two days ago doing its job.

Sabrina shifted her gaze, and you remembered the companion standing patiently beside you. Her eyes swept over him assessingly, mixed with curiosity and wariness. Same old Sabrina. She glances at you briefly, and you know an introduction is in order.

Drawing a breath, you begin, “Sabrina, this is Simon. He, uh…” Your voice faltered, unsure of what label to use to describe him.

Simon reached out with nonchalant confidence to Sabrina. “Pleasure.”

With a hint of skepticism, Sabrina's lips tested the unfamiliar name, "Simon." Her face contorted as if it tasted bitter. She narrowed her eyes as she noted, “Funny, she has never mentioned you before.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and a chill ran down your spine as you replied, “There just… hasn’t been a good time to bring it up.”

You hoped that your explanation would be enough to divert the attention away from Simon, but it seemed futile. Sabrina was infamous for her stubbornness and overly protective nature, especially when it came to those she cared about. Like a tigress, she fixated a calculating gaze on him, as if preparing to pummel him on the spot if he gave her the slightest reason.

“Right,” she mumbled.

Sabrina made a show of dropping the conversation but felt compelled to ask one more question. “Any particular reason for the mask?” Her tone was sharper now, as if daring Simon to answer her.

Hastily, you jumped in. “He’s just feeling under the weather, doesn’t want to spread his cold.” It was a stupid lie, and you knew it, but Sabrina tilted her head in faux consideration.

“How thoughtful.” She commented, suspicion lingering at the edges. Hardening her eyes once more, she gave Simon a subtle threat. “You better take good care of this one.”

“Always.” Simon replied, calm and sure.

Satisfied, Sabrina’s expression switched like flickering sunlight. Clapping her hands in excitement, she announced, “Alright, time to meet Andrew and the others! And I’ll show you to your room!”

With that, she spun on her heels and marched toward the door, her long skirt swirling. Simon and you followed after her at a more sedate pace. Your heart rate slowed in relief that the confrontation was over.

Glancing at Simon, you grimaced, muttering a hushed “Sorry about her.”

Simon says nothing, depriving you of the answer, and you thought this was his way of punishing you for the excessive protectiveness of your cousin. He had driven a considerable distance to accompany you to a wedding of someone he didn’t even know, only to be met with suspicion and unwarranted scrutiny by Sabrina, then tasked with the responsibility of "taking care" of you, despite not even being your boyfriend.

However, in stark contrast to your feelings, Simon seemed to brush off the situation with nonchalance. The slight lift of his black mask and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes clearly indicated a smile hidden beneath it. There was no offense taken.

As you emerged outside the back of the manor, bright sunlight made you blink to adjust. When your blurry eyes cleared, a beautiful scene was laid out before you.

In the wide green field stood a picturesque wedding arch, still bare of the decorations that would soon adorn it. Nearby, tables draped in crisp white linens were set where groups mingled, laughing. Some were busy gossiping and enjoying the buffet; some were occupied in a croquet match.

Sabrina chuckled beside you. “They’re trying to recreate a Bridgerton scene but clearly failing miserably.” At her comment, you smiled too, admiring the carefree warmth pervading the atmosphere.

Gesturing wide, Sabrina said, “Help yourself to the buffet over there, and tea or coffee if you’d like. Oh, and this is Andrew, my fiancé!”

A tall, handsome man approached and pressed a kiss to Sabrina’s cheek. She bloomed with a rosy blush as she beamed up at him. “Babe, this is (Y/N) – you know, the cousin I’ve always told you about, my sister from another mother!” She gushed.

Her sweet description of you stirred a smile in your heart. You turned to Andrew, accepting his handshake. “It's wonderful to meet you. Sabrina talks about you all the time,” he says.

“And this is Simon. He came with (Y/N).”

Andrew reached out to offer a new handshake with Simon. “We're glad to have you both. Please, make yourselves at home.”

Giving a nod, Simon took his hand. “Appreciate the welcome, mate.” He replied.

“Oh my God!”

A high-pitched, sharp voice pierces the air, shattering the calm. Your head pivots, and you see your aunt making her way towards you, her arms stretched out in a gesture much like how Sabrina had welcomed you earlier. The embrace she gives you is as warm and smothering as you remember. Drawing back, she sweeps her teary eyes over you. “Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beauty!”

"Definitely," Sabrina chimes in, seconding her mother.

“It’s lovely to see you too, Auntie Joyce.” You replied, smiling at her.

Joyce pinched your cheek lightly before directing her attention past you, eyes widening in surprise. “And who is this?” she asked, gaze landing on Simon with curiosity. Before you could introduce him, she gasped even louder and glared at you as if she had just realized something big. “Why, he must be your boyfriend!”

Your heart leapt at your aunt's bold insinuation. Joyce didn't bother waiting for your confirmation before enveloping Simon in a tight hug. His shoulders tensed, and he looked confused—his hands hovering awkwardly, unsure of how to reciprocate.

Luckily, the ordeal wasn't prolonged, and your aunt finally retreated, not forgetting, of course, to give his bicep an extra appreciative squeeze. 

“Oh,” she chuckled, “you're quite the fit one, aren't you?”

“Mom, please!” Sabrina groaned, shaking her head at her mother’s antics.

Joyce dismissed her daughter's protests with a playful wave of her hand, saying, "Oh, come now, relax! It's a wedding, not a funeral." She positioned herself between you and Simon, slipping her arms through each of yours to guide you both forward.

“Just look at this place,” Joyce continued, her voice filled with admiration. “Isn’t it stunning? Sabrina had such brilliant ideas, she has a real eye for these things. Just wanted everything perfect for her and Andrew, they deserve the best.”

The older woman stopped in her tracks. She turned to the two of you, looking at you both in turn, hazel eyes filled with sincerity. Grasping each of your hands in hers, she hosted a warm, meaningful smile on her face.

“Mark my words, it’ll be your turn before you know it.”

The well-intentioned tone in your aunt's words was apparent. Auntie Joyce had always been sentimental, wearing her heart on her sleeve and never hesitating to express her thoughts. Yet you couldn't help but think that now, her words seemed misplaced—directed at the wrong people. After all, you and Simon weren't even dating, but rather just two people seeking each other's benefits and comfort. The concept of love seemed incredibly distant, and her trying to cling it to you felt like staining purity with sin.

Instead of imagining your own wedding, you feel panic building in your fingertips. You can hear your heartbeat—the ringing in your ears.

What does Simon think of the implications? He’s only here to accompany you, to make the anxiety easier to handle. But now, it’s as if you’ve brought him here for another purpose—a scheming opportunist trying to trap him with suggestions of commitment he’s never agreed to.

Before your thoughts could spiral further, a voice cuts through the chatter—an awfully familiar one, sending your body into instant shock.

“Joyce, where did you run off to?” It called out, tone softer, but your brain is only capable of recalling the rougher version of it.

Joyce waved at the newcomer, ushering her over. “Your daughter’s here with her boyfriend! Can you believe it? Why didn’t you say?”

Boyfriend. She had said it.

In that moment, horror washed over you. Your pulse quickened, racing like a frightened animal. Palms grew slick with perspiration. The world seems tilting off its axis. Something very sour stirred in your stomach, almost triggering you to retch onto the lush, green grass.

Then came the chuckle, low and mocking—and you're already aware of the person who now stands before you.

Slowly, you lift your gaze to meet the eyes so reminiscent of your own, settled in a face that still bears resemblance to the features you’ve inherited from her. She looks the same as the last time you saw her in San Francisco, except for the absence of anger, now replaced by a smile that graces her red lipsticked lips. It's a familiar expression, the exact one she uses whenever she detects hints of your defiance.

(The ghost haunting my dreams, the monster under the bed.)

The woman who had drilled into you time and again: A man’s heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing! Her vengeance against Dad had warped her into keeping the wound wet and bleeding so that it would not have time to heal, so neither of you forgot.

And here you are, betraying everything she had taught you by daring to bring a man into her world. Something crawled up your throat—heavier this time. This wasn’t panic; this was guilt.

When she saw it written on your face—the shame of your transgression—her eyes gleamed with cruel triumph at catching you out.

Auntie Joyce’s question was almost forgotten, but she never forgot. You watched her lips part, and her gaze changed to the one she always wore when she was watching your every move. Ever the watchful one.

“There just hasn’t been an opportunity yet.” She replied smoothly.

In that moment, with her lie not much different from yours for Sabrina, you realized something – that for all the distance between you, mother and daughter were never truly separate. Her poison still coursed through your veins, flowing in every pump of your blood. Every one of your thoughts and actions was controlled by her, whether she was in front of you or not.

Just as everything is good in your life, fate always has a way of destroying it. No, you disagreed.

It was my mother.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23

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[twilightt-fantasy]

stand up [v. kings]

description: Hey- I have yet to see any of these (kinda?-) But I was hoping if you could do a Poly relationship with the Volturi kings, where the reader is shy as heck and is related to the one and only, Bella swan? Have a great day/afternoon/night <3 :)

requested by: anon

warnings: Bella bashing.

masterlist 

She had always been second to Bella.

Always, didn’t matter what the occasion or skill was - if she could do it, she was certain that Bella would somehow make it better or, if not, find a way to put the attention back on her.  

It was tiresome and aggravating and drove a wedge between her and her mother. Charlie wasn’t nearly as bad as Renee when comparing the two of them, which is why the younger swan wildly preferred her father.

When she found her mates and moved to Italy, the relationship between her and her mom eased a bit. She wasn’t around as much to hear Renee fawn about Bella and Renee instead used the time she did speak to her to wonder how her new - modified version - life was.

She had hoped her and Bella’s relationship would mend itself as well but, of course, that wasn’t the case.

She had been swept into Bella’s world unwillingly and Bella hated that she had to share her little piece of heaven with her sister. It stung her even more that her mates were the very Kings of Volterra, the same ones that nearly stole Edward away from her.

She was not shy about voicing her opinion either, even in front of the kings. She knew they would never do anything to harm the family of their mate if that was what she wished.

Though, the human’s patience was beginning to run thin.

Especially now, as Bella sat in the quiet area of Aro’s study with her husband, sister, and her mates. They visited a couple of times a year, Bella using the chance to show off her new immortality that her sister had not yet received.

Though she hadn’t said much, her mocking eyes and hateful scoffs were not missed by anyone. The Kings were as polite to her as always but she could not return the sentiment.

Her sister hated it and knew her mates did as well. They tried hard to be nice to her and the Cullen family, the least she could do was pretend while she was here.

Hell, even Edward managed to be respectful and hold up a normal conversation.

Finally, after Marcus had attempted to start another conversation with Bella to which he was met with a snarky comment, the mate of the kings had had enough.

“Bella, enough.” Her voice, normally quiet and demure, was loud enough to shock everyone into silence. 

Bella looked to her sister wide eyes, Edward looking between the two of them warily.

Aro, Caius and Marcus all wore varying shades of surprise and pride, their attention fully on their mate as she stared down her sister. Bella was gaping at the human, not used to the loudness of her voice or the displeasure on her face.

“Marcus was simply asking a question, trying to get to know you better. The least you could do is pretend to be polite and have some decency while you’re here.” She was angry now, the years of being pushed behind Bella and constantly being pushed down building up in her. “They’re nice enough to let you come here because you’re my sister but one word, and you won’t see me again and we won’t extend any favors to you.”

“I can’t held that I was pulled into your world and I can’t help who my mates are no matter how much you remind me that you hate me being involved and you hate them.” Bella opened her mouth to argue, to which the human raised her hand, showing she was not done. “But they’ve treated me better in a short time than you have treated me my whole life. You have no right to come here and disrespect them and myself when they’re just being nice.”

She huffed, pausing when she noticed the looks she was getting around the room. Her face turned red then, realizing what she had just done in front of everyone.

Bella was only staring back at her sister, looking only the smallest bit ashamed. Her golden eyes looked towards Edward, who only looked back briefly. “You’re right, I apologize.”

She nodded back, cheeks still burning. “I think we should end this for tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, she stood heading out of Aro’s quarters and heading towards her own. She knew her mates would be close behind her and left the door open for them, smiling sheepishly when they appeared.

“I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Neither can we.” Aro laughed, reaching forward to grab her hand and kiss her cheek. “That was fantastic.”

“I have to agree.” Caius took her other hand, a smug smile pulling at his lips. “I never saw it coming, though it needed to be said for some time.”

“I was just so sick of her treating you guys like that.” She sighed, leaning her head back into Marcus’ chest as he appeared behind her. “You all have been trying to be nice to her and that’s how she repays you. I can handle it but she shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle it.” Marcus murmured and the other two nodded in agreement. “She’s your sister, Bella should treat you better than what she does.”

She scoffed. “You’re telling me.”

“Come on.” Caius tugged your hand, pulling you back towards the bed. “No more talk of Bella tonight. We’ll put on a movie or something to get your mind off of it.”

She smiled, leaning up to peck Caius’ cheek as she followed them each to her bed. The four of them got comfortable, her resting in the middle of Caius and Marcus while keeping a hold of Aro’s hand.

Even if her rant towards Bella didn’t change anything, she knew she’d have the three kings for the rest of eternity to love her and accept her in all her ways.

[pholla-jm]

My Husband

IMAGINE: MY HUSBAND GENRE: FLUFF characters: satoru, megumi, yuji, nanami, suguru cw: gn reader. use of wife. not proof read. **************

Gojo Satoru:

You hear an audible gasp from behind you, while you start to pay the cashier. 

As soon as you finish paying, you turn around to face Satoru who has a glowing grin on his face. 

“What’s the matter with you?” You ask him. 

“Nothing….wifey.” 

You side-eye him, “Wifey?” 

“Yeah, you called me your husband. So it’s only right that I call you my wifey.” 

“Ohh, did I call you husband?” 

Satoru slings an arm around your shoulders, bringing you in closer. 

“Here you go.” The worker says while handing you the order. 

“Thank you.” 

“Isn’t my wifey so beautiful?” He tells the worker. 

Your face burns up at his words. 

“Oh my god…”  you mutter under your breath. 

“Ignore him, please.” You tell the worker, and they nod at you in thanks. 

You grab the items, hand Satoru the kikufuku, and walk away. 

“Wait up, wifey!” He shouts after you roll your eyes. 

“Don’t worry.” He says after catching up to you, “one day you’ll be able to call me your husband one day.”

Megumi:

The both of you were planning a date until you bumped into some friends. 

Megumi didn’t say anything. He only stood behind you, on his phone barely paying attention to the conversation. 

He didn’t care what was happening, but he sure wished you would hurry up. 

It was like one of those situations when your mom sees an old friend and they talk forever. 

He wasn’t paying attention until he heard your last sentence. 

“Well, I have to go. My husband and I are supposed to go on a date.” You say and Megumi feels his heart jump at your words. 

“Let’s go,” you say while grabbing Megumi’s arm and dragging him away.

You glance over at him, noticing the pink shade on his face. You shove him a little, gaining his attention. 

“Is something wrong?” 

Megumi shakes his head. 

“Are you sure? You’re kind of pink.”

“Yeah… it’s your fault.” He mutters but you are still able to hear him.

You let out a small laugh, “how is it my fault?”

“You know.” 

You were silent for a bit and then you realized. 

“Oh! I called you husband, didn’t I?” 

Megumi didn’t answer, but the redness on his cheeks was enough of an answer. 

You let out another giggle, “oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I like it.” Megumi whispers and you freeze. 

Now it’s your turn to turn red in the face.

Yuji Itadori:

“Ooh, ooh. Right now would be a great time for a picture.” You say pulling out your phone. 

The sky was setting into a beautiful sunset. The sky is full of colors purples, pinks, and oranges. 

Flipping the phone over to selfie mode; you point it towards Yuji and you. 

Yuji largely grins at the phone, squishing his face against yours. His infectious smile caused you to grin so large that your cheeks turned pink. 

You snapped the picture, happily looking at the picture of you two. 

“Awe, this is so cute. You’re so cute.” You say while getting ready to post it on every single one of your social media. 

“No, you’re cuter.” 

“No way. My husband is so much cuter.” You mutter and Yuji’s eyes widen. 

“Husband?!”

He leans over, his chin resting on your shoulder. 

You didn’t answer him. 

“Did you call me your husband?” 

“Hmm,” you turn your head, “oh. Oops. I guess I did.” 

Yuji plants a kiss on your cheek. “It’s okay. I like the sound of it. Husband. And you’ll be my wife! Oh, imagine just having my last name.” 

You laugh, “Oh Yuji, I’ve already been imagining your last name with my name. (y/n) Itadori. Sounds cute, right?” 

Yuji looks at you with a love-struck look. 

“You’re amazing.”

Nanami:

Nanami is a gentleman at heart. Always offering to run errands with you to lessen your carry load. 

Nanami was pushing the cart, while you were reading over the list. 

Nanami peeks over at your list, “oh. You forgot to add our tea to the list.” “We’re running low?” “Yeah.” “Oh, I didn’t know.” 

“Awe, what a cute couple.” You hear a lady’s voice say. 

The both of you turn to the voice, seeing an older couple. 

Both of them looking at you in complete adoration. 

Reminiscing on the old days that they shared together. 

You smile at them, “thank you. My husband is just the best.” 

Nanami’s eyes widen hearing your words. 

“Awe, just so cute.” The old lady says before her and her husband walk away. 

Nanami grabs onto your hand, grabbing your attention. 

“Husband?” He asks and your eyes widen too. “Oops, did I say that out loud?” 

He chuckles and nods his head. Your face slowly turns red at the realization. “Uh, well. I didn’t mean it. Well maybe I did? Well I do know that I want to marry you one day, and I know that we’re not actually married right now. So I don’t know why I said husband but-” 

Nanami suddenly cuts you off by leaning down and snatching the air right out of your mouth. 

He pulls away, and you’re too stunned to speak. He always seemed to know what to do when you ramble. 

“It’s okay darling. I plan on marrying you someday too.”

Suguru Geto:

Suguru is the best man you could ever ask for. 

He can always predict your needs before you even need it. 

That’s why you’re head laid in his lap, his hand massaging through your hair. Fingers massaging at your scalp. Smoothing out any knot or soreness that weighed you down. 

The small moans you released from time to time were borderline pornographic. It would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good. 

“Ugh, you’re the best husband ever.” 

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even stop it. 

You could feel his hands stop moving and you began to get nervous that you freaked Suguru out. 

Your eyes opened and you began to sit up. 

“I am so sorry, I didn’t-” 

Suguru just smiles at you, pushing your head back down into his lap. 

You tense up a little bit, not knowing what to do. 

He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “It’s okay. I see you as my wife as well.” 

A large grin breaks out on your face, “really?” 

“Really. Once I save up enough money, you’ll have the best engagement ring in the world.” 

You giggle, “I don’t need the best engagement ring. I only need you.” “Well, you deserve the best. So I’m going to make sure you get the best.” 

“I already have the best, right in front of me.”

[rimaiahwrites]

My sick little baby (a mini read)

Finally finished this, been sitting in my draft for about a year and a half tbh:( When reader gets sick and and anddd she’s super subby and eren is soo daddy (fave eren) and just wanna baby her :) Sweet 🧁 (not proof read mb lol I’ll edit later)

When y/n got home from school she didn’t feel the best but she still pushed herself to clean up a little and make dinner for her husband Eren before he gets home from work, but when she woke up the next morning her head was pounding and her stomach was dropped when she sat up and the next thing she knew she was up and running to the bathroom and leaning into the toilet letting the rest of last nights dinner out. When she was done her eyes were watering and she was dizzy as she walked back to her bed.

She pouted when she realized her husband had already left for work and laid on his side of the bed. It was not long before tears was streaming down her face because she hated being sick especially when her daddy wasn’t there with her. She grabbed her phone from the other side of the bed and called him. She was in no shape to take care of herself and she knew it. It rang twice before his smooth voice hit her ears. “Wassup baby?”

“Papa…I don’t feel good.” Her lip quivered and her voice cracked feeling her stomach cramp up. “baby what’s the matter?” He cooed stopping his hand movement from writing on his paper now feeling worried for his little princess.

“Can you come home? I think I have the flu.” She whined, wishing he was home already to make her feel better. “You did feel hot when I was in bed with you this morning…you need daddy to come home to take care of you?”

“Yes please I need you, I already throw up and I feel so weak..” she whispered. That was all she needed to say before he was packing his suitcase up and headed to his car to get to his beloved wife.

When he got home he found her curled on the couch wrapped in her pink and white fluffy blanket watching finding Nemo. When he sat his keys down her head popped up he could tell what kind of mood she was in with the pout on her lips, his subby whiny baby.

“Oh my poor babyy.” Eren cooed picking her up bridle style sitting her on his lap. Her bottom lip wobbled and she grabbed on to him tightly. “My princess doesn’t feel good?” She shook her head cuddling his neck. “Have you eaten yet?” She let out a quiet no in the sweetest voice and it melted Erens heart. He sat her back down and headed to the kitchen looking around for something to give her to eat then his mom’s chicken noodle soup recipe popped up in his head. Whenever eren was sick as a kid she would make him chicken noodle soup and crackers and it alway made him feel better..So he got to it, it was a easy and quick recipe and it took no longer than 15 minutes, He also made a her a cup of liquid iv in her pink and white teddy bear water bottle.

Erens pov—

“Here drink this princess…” I shook her awake and gave her the cup, her shaky hands reached out to grab it. My baby was so weak it broke my heart, she was mostly dehydrated from barely drinking or eating for the whole morning. I put my hand on her forehead and she was burning up, i cringed a fever was a good sign because I knew that her body was fighting off whatever it was but I definitely needed to check her temperature.

I went and got the thermometer and her medicine, soon as she saw me coming with the bubblegum pink bottle of liquid she whined loudly, being very overly dramatic. She hated taking medicine with a passion but of course I wasn’t going to just let her sit there with a runny nose and a headache and not do anything.

I poured her a big tablespoon of the medication and lifted it to her mouth, her lips sat in a pout.

I sighed, “baby please open up, it’s gonna make you feel better, promise.” She shook her head no, she was in no way ever a bad girl but as soon as she got sick she was very testy with me.

I hated to get stern with her at a time like this, her eyes glossy and lips pouted so prettily on her face.

“Open, now I’m not going to say it again.” I tilted her head up with my two fingers.

“But pap—“ soon as she opened her mouth I shoved the spoon in her mouth, her little dramatic ass gagged as she swallowed it down, scrunched up face like she just teated the most foul thing in the world. I chuckled as I rolled my eyes.

“This will make you feel better promise, now let’s get some food in you.” She whined and rubbed her stomach.

“My tummy hurts I don’t wanna’ papa” she whimpered but of course she still ate, because no way was I about to let her go all day without eating or drinking. She drank half her cup of water and was all ready feeling a little better.

I grabbed her and carried her up stairs to our bathroom to run her a hot bath.

My bath was a jet tub so when I poured some of her favorite bubble bath there was more bubbles than water at this point, I made the water hot because she normally liked to be boiled alive every time she takes a bath or shower.

“I just wanna lay down..” I turned around to see her standing in the bathroom door way, her teddy bear in hand.

“I know but you’re sweaty baby, C’mere.” When her head touched my chest her whole body went limp and supported its-self against me.

“Let’s get you outta these clothes” I mumble, tossing her shirt to the other side of the bathroom, into her hamper. I lifted her up and placed her in the tub. I smile, Her aching body begins to loosen up from the warm water, her chunky little cheeks squashed from pressing them against the cold edge of the tub finally feeling like she’s able to relax she lies her head down on the edge of the tub, whimpering every time I gently message her scalp. Her once fresh braids now a bit frizzed for tossing and turning on my cotton pillow case without her silk hello kitty bonnet.

“You feel good baby?” I smile, she nods her head only before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. I grabbed her bath rag and wiped her runny nose gently trying to not irritate it more than it already was, red and raw from blowing it all day. I wash her body, starting from face to chest, to her bottom half to her feet, trying not wake her.

I grabbed her towel and carry her, her legs dangling at my side secured with my hands interlocking under her butt. She let a huffed breath, coddling her face into my neck.

I putt lotion on her whole body, head to toe. I placed my shirt that looked like a dress, stopping mid thigh to her.

“Papa?” I heard softly, looking up from sliding her panties on. Her big brown eyes filling with tears. Worried, I moved up to her face and wiped them with my thumb stroking her face. Her skin so soft and clean

“What’s the matter pumpkin?”

“I..I love you so much, you’re the best husband I could have ever asked for, you take such good care of me.” She cried her lip wobbling, my poor baby was always so emotional whenever she was sick.

“I know baby, I know, I love you and I’ll always take care of you. Through sickness and health till death do us part baby I mean it.” I grin seeing a giggle creep through her pouty face.

“You’re so corny.” She smiled, for the first time today.

“I know as long as I get to see that beautiful I’ll say whatever.” I mumble kissing her lips softly.

“You feel better?” She nodded closing her eyes briefly before answering me with a quiet yes. “M’ sleepy ..”

“Yeah? Alright let’s go to sleep.” I pulled her to the top of the bed and wrapped my arms around her, her arms tucked between us both, while her head rests in my chest.

My sick little baby .. I thought before kissing her on the forehead and drifting off to sleep myself