#I’ll have to go over all the sayings she uses in the series and tell you all of they’re proper Italian or not

[dianawinchester03]

Season 2, Episode 20 - What Is And What Should Never Be (Part One)

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Hi beauties! Another late update because I started working full time again and I barely even have time for myself. I'm warning you, my updates are going to be much slower from now on. I'm so sorry😭❤️

I know the season finale is next but I will definitely try my absolute best to finish them in time but the only day I get to write now is literally Sunday since its my only day off 💔i said it once, and I’ll say it again I HATE ADULTING

Alright, enough of my rambling. I hope you guys enjoy it!! <3

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Third Person POV

Joliet, Illinois

Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Saturday Night Special’ was blasting through the Impala’s deck as Dean drove. His phone rang and he instantly picked it up upon seeing Y/N’s contact. “Yeah?” Dean answered, “There’s a cop car outside” Y/N whispered into the phone that was on speaker, currently holed up in her motel room with Sam and Jo.

She slightly creased the curtain, standing at the window with a worried expression. “You think it’s for us?” Dean asked. “We don't know” Sam responded, moving from his bed where he and Jo sat to speak into the phone next to Y/N. “I don’t see how it could be for you guys. You ditched the plates, the credit cards.” Jo chimed in. Sam and Y/N let out a breath of relief when the cop car drove away.

“They’re leaving. False alarm” Y/N told Dean as Sam moved back to his bed. “See. There's nothing to worry about, sweetheart” Dean assured her. “Yeah, being fugitives is a fucking dance party” Y/N sassed, pacing the room. Sam snorted at her humor in agreement as he flipped through the books on his bed along with Jo. They were currently hunting a Djinn.

“Hey, chicks dig the danger vibe.” Dean chuckled, “Isn’t that right, Jo? You can’t tell me knowing Sammy is a wanted man isn’t getting your knickers in a twist” Dean’s amused voice boomed through the speaker. Jo blushed and flipped him off even though she knew he couldn’t see her before she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t talk about my knickers, prick!” She retorted as Y/N buckled over in laughter. “That’s not exactly a no, asshole” Dean teased, hearing Y/N’s laugh in the background. Sam threw himself down on his bed, covering his face with a pillow and groaned. “I can’t listen to this,” he complained in a muffled tone.

“Leave the lovebirds alone” Y/N joked after sobering up from her laughter, this made Jo toss a pillow at her as Sam groaned again. Y/N quickly dodged it, blowing Jo a playful kiss. “You got anything?” Y/N asked, changing the subject. “Are you kidding me? How could I? You got me sitting through, like, 50 square miles of real estate here” Dean sassed, making Y/N roll her eyes.

“Well that’s where all the victims disappeared” Y/N pointed out as Sam finally uncovered his face and returned to flipping through his books. “Yeah, well. I got diddly squat. What about you guys?” Dean asked, Y/N looked over at Sam hopefully. He shrugged before gesturing for her to hand him the phone. She did just that.

“We got just one thing. I’m pretty sure of it now. We’re hunting a Djinn” Sam told Dean. “A fucking genie?” Dean cackled, “Yeah.” Sam nodded as Jo tossed her feet up on his lap and Y/N dug through her bag to get her cigarettes. “So what? You think these suckers can really grant wishes?” Dean mused as Y/N lit her cigarette.

“We don’t know. I guess they’re powerful enough. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants” Jo chimed in as Sam ran his hands up and down her shins. “Yeah, I mean, djinn have been feeding off of people for centuries. They’re all over the Koran” Sam added as Y/N propped herself up on the window still. “My God. Barbara Eden was hot, wasn’t she?” Dean muttered.

“Damn straight. Way hotter than that Bewitched chick” Y/N agreed from across the room. Sam scoffed in annoyance as Jo rolled her eyes, the two shooting Y/N a judgemental look. “Are you two even listening to me?” Sam chastised Dean and Y/N. The psychic pursed her lips, trying to hide her amused smile as she took a drag from her cigarette.

“Ahem. Yeah. So where do the djinns lair up?” Dean asked, clearing his throat. “Ruin, usually. The bigger, the better. More places to hide” Sam explained to him. “Yeah. I think I saw a place a couple miles back. I’m gonna go check it out” Dean told them. Sam’s hands paused on Jo’s shin as he and Y/N’s eyes widened with panic.

Y/N quickly crushed her cigarette in her ashtray, darting over to snatch the phone from Sam. “Are you stupid?! Come pick us up first” Y/N said firmly, “Nah. I’m sure it’s nothing. I just wanna take a look around” Dean assured her. Sam, Jo and Y/N shared an unsure look as Dean hung up the phone.

Y/N sighed heavily, stuffing her phone into her pocket. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this” Sam muttered, worry plastered on his face, “Me too” Y/N agreed.

-

Meanwhile, Dean pulled in-front of the old warehouse. A storm was coming as the thunder clapped. He abruptly exited the Impala, shutting the door as he took out his flashlight. Dean clicked on his flashlight, shining it around the dark surroundings before heading towards the building.

The large door on the front of the building was already open, slightly creaking as it rocked a bit back and forth thanks to the wind. Dean stepped in, immediately noticing all the cobwebs and piles of dirt and sand everywhere. He glanced around with his flashlight, noticing the piles of clothing lying among the debris, and the sound of footsteps made his ears perk up.

He immediately clutched his knife dipped in lamb’s blood, clenching his jaw. Dean stepped closer to the sound of the footsteps, his footsteps light and his ears on high alert. The footsteps continued, and Dean felt his heartbeat start thumping in his ears as the dread started to fill his stomach.

Suddenly, the djinn lunged out from behind a pile of clothes. It was a flash, one moment Dean was simply walking and the next his back was slammed backwards against a wall. The back of his head stung and he was briefly disoriented, dropping his knife as white spots danced in his vision.

Dean grunted as the Djinn’s hand gripped his throat, trying to fight the monster off. The Djinn’s eyes flashed a dark shade of blue, along with his hand. Dean struggled and grunted as the Djinn pressed his glowing tatted hand to his forehead, the hunter’s eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fell in a sleep-like state.

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Dean’s Dream World

Lawrence, Kansas

Dean gasped awake in the middle of the night to thunder clapping. His eyes wide as he struggled for breath. He found himself in an unfamiliar bed with a naked woman next to him. He tilted his head in confusion as he leaned down to see who the woman was, the last thing he remembered was getting attacked by the Djinn.

Dean’s jaw plummeted to the ground when it turned out the woman next to him was Y/N, a blanket lazily draped over her chest, her back facing him. Dean began to panic instantly, wondering how in the fuck he ended up in bed…naked…next to Y/N fucking L/N.

His eyes drifted down to her lower back to see her anti possession tattoo was not there. His heart was in his ass at this point.

He sat up quickly, his eyes wide as the realization of the situation hit him. He put his hand up to his head and groaned. He glanced at Y/N’s sleeping form and swallowed the lump in his throat when he saw her eyes were shut. “Motherfucker” He mumbled, glancing at the clock on the bedside table.

4:32 A.M. He slowly removed the covers, silently standing up and grabbing his jeans off ground and quickly got dressed.

-

Now fully dressed, Dean exited the bedroom, strolling around the unfamiliar house. Not in any way used to the environment. He had no idea what the hell was going on. He switched on a light and did what his mind instantly told him to do. He called his little brother.

“Dean?” Sam answered, confused as to why his brother was calling him at this ungodly hour. “Sam?” Dean whispered in relief, trying to keep his voice at bay. “What’s going on?” Sam asked, concerned. “I don’t know where the fuck I am man” Dean told him. “What? What happened?” Sam gasped, now worried.

“Well, the uh, the djinn. It attacked me” Dean told him, running his hand over his face. “The gin? You’re drinking gin?” Sam’s brows furrowed. “No, dumbass. The djinn! The scary creature, remember?” Dean exclaimed lowly. “It put its hand on me and then I woke up in bed next to Y/N!!” Dean explained, his heart pounding out of his chest.

“You mean your fiancée?” Sam snorted. Dean’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped to the ground in surprise. “My WHAT!?” He exclaimed, eyes going even wider if possible. “My fiancée? When the fuck did that happen” He repeated, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Dean, you’re drunk. You’re drunk dialing me” Sam shook his head as he laughed. “No, I am not drunk! Quit fucking around!!” Dean exclaimed lowly, “Look. It’s late. Alright? Just get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Sam brushed it off, instructing his brother to sleep it off. “Wait. Sam! Sam!!” Dean gritted his teeth but the line went dead.

-

Palo Alto, California

Sam chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he sighed deeply before shutting his Criminal Law and Procedure book.

-

Lawrence, Kansas

Y/N heard Dean arguing and slowly awoke, eyes wide with confusion as she sat up and looked around. She realized Dean wasn’t in the bed with her anymore and her stomach dropped. She glanced at the bathroom, it was quiet so he couldn’t be in there. She then saw a faint light coming from the hallway.

Outside, Dean groaned as he looked around nervously. He quickly stuffed his phone into his pocket, his eyes landing on a stack of mail that was placed neatly ontop of the dining room table. His eyes widened again when he picked it up to see, ‘Y/N L/N. #53 Barker Ave. Lawrence, Kansas’ written on the first letter.

Inside their shared room, Y/N pulled the covers off her body before wrapping her light blue robe around her and slowly padded out into the hall, peering into the kitchen to see Dean rifling through mail.

“Lawrence?” Dean muttered to himself, sifting through the mail. ‘Dean Winchester. #53 Barker Ave. Lawrence, Kansas’ was written on the next letter. “What the fuck????” Dean mumbled, his heart stopped when a sleepy voice behind him said. “Charming?” He spun around to see Y/N, clutching her robe to her chest.

“What are you doing up?” Her soft voice of concern honeyed his ears. “Hey…Y/N” Dean said sheepishly as his ‘fiancée’ approached him. His heart beating out of his chest. “Y/N. I just- uh-” Dean stammered, “Oh, you can’t sleep, huh?” She cut him off in a sultry tone, running her hands over his chest. His eyes glanced down at his left hand to see a very familiar ring placed neatly on her ring finger.

The ring his father gave him the day he died belonged to his mother. Sam was indeed not lying when he said that Y/N was his fiancée. Dean’s breath got caught in his throat at Y/N’s touch and the tone in her volume. “Yeah,” Dean chuckled nervously. “Well, why don’t you come back to bed and let’s see if I can do anything to help?” Y/N suggested, her voice low as she snaked her arms around his neck.

Dean shivered involuntarily when Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt his whole body stiffen as her fingers traced the nape of his neck. His cheeks began to heat up as his eyes looked down at her, the blue robe she was wearing hugged her body perfectly. The low tone of her voice sent a small jolt down to the pit of his stomach.

“Well- um- Princess- ” He mumbled nervously as he tried to make an excuse. He didn’t get a chance to say anything again when she attached her lips to his. Dean’s eyes widened as Y/N’s lips crashed onto his own. He let out a small gasp of surprise against her mouth at her sudden movement.

His brain shut down as his hands automatically moved to grab her waist. Dean shut his eyes, groaning in the back of his throat at the feel of her lips finally against his. But it didn’t feel right. It felt off, he knew the Djinn had something to do with this but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it since the love of his life, the woman he believed didn’t him love back, Y/N fucking L/N’s tongue was down his throat.

The kiss deepened as she parted her lips for him and slowly began to pull him back towards the bedroom. Dean’s brain was screaming to stop. This wasn’t what he wanted, but the feel of her lips against his. The way her tongue was exploring his mouth. It was driving him crazy. And he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her back.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, moving against hers. He moaned low, the sound getting muffled by the kiss. He backed her up against the wall of the hallway, pinning her there with his body.

SNAP OUT OF IT WINCHESTER!

“No, no. Stop” Dean whined, forcefully peeling himself away from her. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t have sex with her. As much as he wanted to, so fucking badly. He couldn’t do it. Not like this.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and her smile faded from her face at his words. “Huh?” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned her back against the wall and tilted her neck to look up at him. “Why?” She asked confused as he ran hand through his hair, putting a decent amount of distance between y/n and him.

She stepped closer to him again, placing her hands on his chest. “C’mon baby.” She whispered in a seductive tone, a small smirk on her lips, “What’s wrong? You’re not one to deny sex” She asked concerned. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat as she spoke, his breathing becoming a bit more labored.

“Y/N, I- ” He began, his mind racing to find words to explain the situation. But then Y/N pressed chest to his, her palms pressing into his chest. Dean’s mind immediately went blank as she looked up at him with those damn eyes. That damn look is gonna kill him. “I’m just tired, sweetheart” Dean lied fluidly, praying she’ll take the bait.

Y/N’s expression softened a bit as she stared up at him. She could tell it was a lie, by his facial expressions, but she didn’t push him for answers. “Oh, baby” She said tenderly, her hand moving up to caress his cheek. “Why don’t you come back to bed then. I’ll just hold you. How does that sound?” She asked, her voice sweet as honey.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat as she placed her hand on his cheek. Getting held by Y/N didn't sound like a bad idea right about now. His eyes flicked down to her lips, wanting to kiss her again.

God, it’d be so easy.

He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, leaning his head against hers. “You go ahead, I’m right behind you” He whispered. Dean wanted this to be real, he was praying it was. Y/N’s lips curled into a soft smile at his reply. She brushed her thumb over his cheek before standing on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead softly.

“Alright, don’t take too long” She whispered, patting his shoulder before making her way back to the bedroom. At the doorway, she gave him one last glance before heading back into the bedroom.

Dean groaned under his breath as he watched her disappear into the room. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Dean’s mind was racing. This was all wrong. How the hell did he end up naked in bed with his friend who he was secretly in love with but also his supposed ‘fiancée’?

This was all some sick game the djinn was playing with him. Dean knew they possibly granted wishes, it was no secret that Dean wished for y/n to be his…could it be? Could the Djinn have actually given him what he desperately wanted? Even though he never said it out loud, is it possible the Djinn knew somehow?

Dean began to investigate the house, peering around the living room. He took in the pictures of him and y/n that were placed neatly around the room. Pictures of them on vacation with y/n wearing a big floppy hat, pink two piece bikini and Dean in a matching white shirt with pink swim trunks on.

Dean’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest as he picked up a photo of him and y/n at a beach. It was summer, both of them were soaked, and both was wearing bright smiles with shades on. Dean’s hand trembled as he observed the picture.

He set it down before walking over to the bookshelf, he let his fingers brush over the spines of each book. He was trying to look for a clue, anything to tell him this wasn’t real.

He went back to looking at the pictures. A small smile gracing his face when his eyes landed on a frame that held a picture of the two hugging. Y/N had a big grin on her face, holding out her hand to the camera, showcasing her engagement ring while Dean’s eyes were trapped on her. The starstruck gaze he had on her in the picture was oozing with love and admiration. The two seemed to be at a concert in the picture.

Dean felt his heart swell as he took in the picture. He had no recollection of any of these memories. Curiosity got the best of him, so he turned the picture frame around and took the picture out. Written on the back was ‘Bon Jovi, Nashville Tennesse. February 14th, 2006. She said yes!’ In his handwriting.

His heart leaped to his throat again as he read the writing. This must be when he proposed to her. He sat down on the couch, a wave of emotions washed over him. His fingers trembled as he stared down at the picture in his hand.

Dean’s eyes scanned the room once again, his eyes landing on a particular picture. He thought he was gonna cry upon seeing it, his entire world stopped. Dean Winchester dropped the picture frame, the glass shattering on the ground and instantly left the house.

____________________________________________

The Impala pulled up to the Winchester residence, the L/N residence right across from theirs. Both houses were still intact, the L/N residence not burnt to a crisp. Dean shakily stepped out of the Impala, shutting the door behind him.

He walked up the porch and began banging on the door harshly, ringing the bell a few times until the light came on outside. The door opened to reveal a very alive and well Mary Winchester, a worried expression etched on her face. “Dean?” She said softly, sleep potent in her voice, clutching her robe to her chest.

Dean's eyes widened, tears welling up at his emerald irises. “Mom?” Dean gasped, “What are you doing here? Are you alright?” Mary asked her son, concerned. Dean gulped, unsure of how to feel at this exact moment. “I don’t know” He croaked. “Well, come inside” Mary ushered him inside. His body was stiff, still in shock but he managed to pull himself inside.

“Y/N just called and said you took off all of a sudden” Mary said as she shut the door behind her. “Y/N? Right…” Dean muttered, he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from his mother. His very alive mother. “Let me ask you a question. When I was a kid, what did you and Mrs. L/N always tell me when you put me to bed?” Dean asked as he swallowed hard, he wanted this to be real.

Mary’s brows furrowed in confusion as she folded her arms across her chest, “Dean, I don’t understand-” She was cut off, “Just answer the question” Dean snapped. His mothers eyes softened, “We told you angels were watching over you” Mary answered, Dean felt as though he was about to break down into pieces.

“I don’t believe it” Dean almost sobbed before pulling his mother into a tight hug. Mary grunted in surprise as her son’s strong arms engulfed her. Confused from the random show of appreciation, “Honey, you’re scaring me” The motherly tone in her voice echoed through his ears as she gently rubbed his back. “What’s going on?”

“You don’t think that wishes can- can really-?” Dean stammered, his words getting lost in his throat. “What?” Mary asked confused, “Forget it” Dean smiled, pulling his mother into a hug again that he longed for since he was a little boy. “Forget it. I’m just, uh— I’m happy to see you, that’s all” Dean held back his tears as he buried his face in his mother’s hair.

His brows creased, his breath constricting in his throat as he melted into the embrace before pulling away, “You're beautiful” Dean chuckled tearfully before pulling away. “What?” Mary gasped confused. The padding of footsteps made Dean’s ears perk up, his head swung around to see M/N, squinting her sleepy eyes at him.

F/N wasn’t in town, he was coming back tomorrow and M/N never liked staying alone in her house. So, it became tradition whenever either of their husbands went out of town, M/N and Mary would sleep in each other's guest room. Clutching her own robe to her chest, “Dean, what are you doing here?” Y/N’s mom asked him, equally confused.

“I-uh” Dean started, his words caught in his tongue again as he saw Y/N’s mom. Her hair was tousled, her eyes were tired and squinty from being dragged out of a dead sleep. “Mrs. L/N!?” Dean gasped, now engulfing his soon to be mother-in-law in a tight hug.

She was alive. His mother was alive. It was all surreal.

M/N chuckled and patted his back as she returned the hug with her own. Mary just stared at the two with a slight smile on her face. “It’s great to see you too, hun. But why are you here, now of all times?” She asked as she pulled a little away to look up at him.

“Uh- I uh- just missed you guys” Y/N’s mother chuckled at his words and pinched his cheek. “Aren’t you a sweet thing?” She teased, her lips curving into a small smile. “Did Y/N kick you out of the house again?”

Dean’s smile faltered slightly. He felt on the verge of tears again, the only thing keeping him grounded was the feel of M/N in his arms. Just the mention of Y/N set him off again. This time his lips started to tremble when he spoke.

“No- uh- I just-” He began but his voice was cracking. M/N could sense he was on the verge of tears and gently caressed his face. “Okay, sweetie calm down. You’re alright” She whispered in a motherly tone.

Dean felt his bottom lip tremble again. He hasn’t been comforted like this since he was four. He leaned into the comfort of his future mother-in-law. His eyes fluttered closed as M/N’s fingers gently touched his skin, he could practically hear her say ‘You’re okay, baby’.

“I’m fine,” Dean assured her shakily, pulling away from her gently. A broad smile on his face as he cleared his throat, wiping his mouth. His eyes scanned the room, staring at the picture frames that were propped up all about. “Hey, when I was- when I was young, was there ever a fire here? Or at your house?” Dean asked them.

Both women shared a confused look, “No. Never” Mary told him as Dean walked around the room. He saw a few pictures of both their families.

Of him and Sam as kids with their parents, seemingly on vacation.

One of Sam and Y/N, they looked to be in their teens, smashing cake in each other’s faces.

Another of Sam and Y/N wearing a graduation cap and gown, both holding up high school diplomas, Dean wasn't in this picture.

And another of Dean and Y/N, he was wearing a light colored dress shirt, dark jeans. His arm wrapped around Y/N, grins spread across their faces as he wore her graduation cap. This time, Y/N was holding up her degree.

A few more were framed of Sam, Dean and Y/N going to prom. Looking almost exactly like the ones they took years ago.

There was another one of the trio sitting on a couch, their arms folded across their chests and Y/N was sitting in the middle of the boys. It reminded Dean of a picture Bobby made their take years ago as teenagers.

There were more of Y/N and her parents, along with some of all three kids when they were young and another unfamiliar little girl who looked quite similar to Y/N with F/N and M/N. Dean tilted his head in confusion but brushed it off.

Dean’s heart swelled as he looked at the pictures, “I guess I was wrong” Dean mumbled, his eyes widened when his eyes landed on a picture of F/N and John, wielding softball bats, “Dad and Mr. L/N are on a softball team” Dean gasped. He turned to Mary and M/N who seemed to be still confused before clearing his throat.

“Their softball team. That’s funny to me” He covered up his stammering as he took in the picture. The idea of either men on a softball team was wild to him. Mary’s eyes landed on the ground as a sympathetic look took over M/N’s face. “He loved that stupid team” Mary mumbled, M/N noticed her friend’s look of heartbreak and gently placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Dean’s face dropped, his eyes snapping back to his mother. “Dad’s dead?” Dean asked, both Mary and M/N tilted their head at him from his question. Dean quickly recuperated, “And the thing that killed him was a-” He tried to find out. “A stroke. He died in his sleep, you know that” M/N said, shaking her head at him as tears welled up in Mary’s eyes.

As much as hearing his father was dead hurt him, Dean was happy to hear that his father didn’t go out the way he originally, “And F/N?” He asked M/N hopefully, “Out of town, you know that, it’s why M/N is here” Mary said, furrowing her eyebrows at her son. Dean nodded sheepishly before saying, “That’s great”

“Excuse me?” Mary gasped, Dean’s eyes widened when he realized how his words must’ve sounded. “That- that’s great. That he went peacefully, I mean it- and F/N fine….it’s sure beats the alternative” He said softly, placing the photo back down. Mary and M/N shared a knowing look, “You’ve been drinking” Mary pointed out.

“No, I haven’t. Mom” Dean sighed, assuring her. M/N nodded, not wanting to press anymore. “I’m just gonna call Y/N and have her come pick you up, okay?” M/N said calmly, taking her hand off of Mary’s shoulder to pick up the landline. “Wait. No. No, don’t do-” Dean quickly stopped her, holding her hand gently to place the landline back down.

“Don’t do that. Don’t do that” He begged, taking a proper look at her. “I wanna stay here” Dean told them, their faces contorted in confusion again. “Why?” Mary asked. “Because. I-i- I miss the place” Dean sheepishly lied. Mary and M/N shared a look again, both confused at what the hell was going on.

“It’s okay. You two go to bed, okay?” Dean assured them, moving to sit on the couch as he continued to scan the place with his eyes. Mary walked over to her son, placing a gentle hand on his face. “Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked him, the maternal tone potent. Dean’s heart swelled, his eyes softening. “I think so” He croaked, holding back tears again.

“Okay” Mary said sweetly, placing a kiss on his forehead. Dean leaned into the touch and the kiss, still trying not to cry. Mary pulled away and gave her son a small smile, “We’ll be in our rooms if you need us. I love you” The mother told him. M/N nodded in agreement as she and Mary turned to slowly walk out of the room.

“Me too,” Dean said softly. “I’ll get you a blanket” M/N told him gently. “Thanks” Dean croaked out, his voice low as he heard their footsteps fade away. He let out a shaky breath as his head fell into his hands.

He let himself take in a moment to process everything. Seeing his mother and m/n alive again, seeing them full of light and life again. Hearing that his father passed peacefully. Knowing that F/N was alive and well himself. This was the life he always longed for. The life he always secretly wanted.

Dean exhaled another shaky breath. ‘You’re okay. They’re all okay’ He assured himself, wiping his mouth as a tear rolled down his cheek. But it didn’t feel right, that little voice at the back of his head was telling him that this is not what he thinks it is. Not what he wants it to be.

He looked up when he heard footsteps re-enter the room, his eyes landing on Y/N’s mom as she walked toward him with a blanket in her hands.

She stopped at the edge of the couch before she gently laid the blanket over him. Dean’s body tensed as he felt the fabric being pulled over his lap. A feeling he hasn’t experienced for a very long time. M/N seemed to notice his tenseness, her eyebrows slightly furrowing, “What’s wrong?” She gently asked.

“Nothing” Dean replied, his eyes not leaving the blanket that rested against his legs. “Just tired” He muttered, shifting his body so he laid down as he leaned against the pillows. M/N gave him a soft smile. “I know that” She said softly before leaning down and placing a kiss on his temple.

Dean melted at the feeling on his skin again, closing his eyes and relishing the comfort he got from this simple action. It’s a feeling he always craved but never got. M/N gently pushed his hair away and gave his cheek an affectionate pinch. “Get some rest, honey, okay?” The woman told him gently.

Dean opened his eyes and met M/N’s loving stare, fighting the urge to cry again. “I will” He mumbled, a lump in his throat slowly forming. M/N smiled and gave him one last pat to the cheek before she pulled away, turning on her heel to head down the hall to the guest room. leaving him alone in the living room.

The second she was gone, a soft “Fuck” escaped his lips as a tear rolled down his cheek again. Dean allowed himself to succumb to the comfort, his mind finally stopped racing, the darkness of a peaceful sleep taking him over.

-

The next morning, Dean woke up on the couch. He shot up from his position after his eyes fluttered open.

It was real? It wasn’t a dream? What the fuck is going on?

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he stared at the picture frames again, his heart still aching from the comfort he’d received. He shook his head. “No. Something’s not right” He whispered to himself, his eyes landing back on the picture of him and Y/N on prom night.

He did the only thing he could think to do in a moment like this. He called his little brother. Dean fished his phone out of his pocket, dialing in Sam’s number but it went to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. I can’t come to the phone-” He shut his phone, taking a deep breath.

He had to figure out what the fuck was going on, what this djinn did to him, or gave him.

____________________________________________

“Well I don’t think I’ve seen you in my class before” The professor said to Dean, leaning back in his chair. Dean sat across from the professor in his office, immediately going to the Lawrence local college for any answers on this Djinn. “You kidding me? I love your lectures. You- you make learning fun” Dean chuckled, pointing to the teacher who chuckled in response.

“So, what can I do for you?” The Professor asked. “What can you tell me about djinns?” Dean asked, clasping his hands in front of him as he leaned into his chair.

-

Now infront of several books filled with lore, “Well, a lot of Muslims believe the djinn are very real. They’re me times in the Koran” The Professor explained, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, i know. Get to the wish part” Dean said impatiently. “What about it?” The professor furrowed his brows. “Do you think they could really do it?” Dean asked.

The professor looked baffled, “Uh…no. No, I don't think they can really do it. But, you understand that these are mythic creatures?” The Professor pointed out. “Yeah. No, I know, I know. But, uh, I mean, in the stories” Dean clarified. “You know, say you had a wish, uh-” He cleared his throat, gulping before continuing.

“-but you never even said it out loud. You know, like that- uh. Some loved ones never died or something awful never happened. Or…uh...the girl you love starts loving you back? Is it possible?” Dean asked, swallowing harshly. “Supposedly, yes” The Professor shrugged. “I mean, they have godlike power. They can Alter reality however they want. Past, present, future” The Professor explained.

“Why would the djinn do it?” Dean queried, leaning down to look at the books as the Professor eyed him suspiciously. “What, self defense? Or maybe it’s not really evil” Dean muttered, hoping that he could stay in this reality. This beautiful, dreamlike reality. “Son?” The Professor asked, concerned. “Hmm?” Dean hummed.

“You been drinking?” The Professor questioned, his brows raised. Dean had to stop himself from laughing, “Everybody keeps asking me that, but, uh, no” He assured him with a cheeky smile.

-

Dean was now outside the college, opening the trunk to the Impala. He snorted upon opening it when his eyes landed on a couple of old magazines and trash in the trunk. “Well, who would’ve thought, Baby? We’re civilians” He chuckled, shutting the trunk.

Dean felt as though someone was watching him, so he looked across the street to see a young girl, looking almost terrified yet calm, staring right back at him. Dean looked shocked and confused as to why this young girl kept her eyes trained on him. Assuming she could be in trouble, he began to approach her.

He moved to walk across the road without looking at both sides and almost got hit by a red pick up. The tired screeching on the road as the driver hit the brakes. The driver beeped their horn and yelled inaudible curses at him as he stood in the middle of the road.

“Ah, sorry” He apologized, holding up his hands apologetically before turning his eyes back to the little girl, only to see she was now gone. Nowhere in sight. Dean felt something off in his stomach as he walked away.

____________________________________________

Now back at the Winchester household, Dean greedily and contently ate a sandwich prepared by his mom. He leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to relish the feeling of a home cooked meal. One of Mary’s favorites to make him, a chicken salad sandwich with extra pickle. A loud moan of content left his throat.

“Mmm. This is the best sandwich ever!” He exclaimed, his mouth filled with food. Mary chuckled lightly from where she was at the sink. “Thank you. M/N made you a pie before she left for the airport to pick up F/N. I’ll get you some”

“Pie?” Dean mumbled, perking up at the mention of it. He hadn’t had M/N’s pie in years, the only person who could almost replicate her recipe was Y/N. And he loved her pie but nothing could compare to M/N’s pie. Mary hummed in response and disappeared into the other room for a short moment.

He waited anxiously in his seat, his eyes bouncing back towards the doorway every other second, waiting for the woman to reappear with the pie. “I tried to get ahold of Sam earlier. Where-? Where is he?” Dean asked through a mouth full of food as he chewed.

“Oh, he’ll be here soon. M/N is picking him up too” Mary replied, setting down a plate of warm apple pie in front of Dean. “Good. Thanks mom, I’m dying to see him” He replied, picking up a fork and dug into the pie immediately. A small hum of contentment escaped his throat.

His eyes fluttered shut, his lips curled into a smile, “Sweetie, uh, don’t get me wrong.” Mary began, sitting across from Dean at the dining table. “I am thrilled you’re hanging out here all of a sudden” Mary said softly, placing her hand on Dean's shoulder before gently brushing her son's face. A content smile spread across Dean’s face, his cheeks still stuffed with pie as she said this.

“But, uh, shouldn’t you be at work?” She asked. “Work?” Dean’s face dropped. “At the garage” Mary said as if it were obvious. “Right. The garage. That’s where I work.” Dean chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. I’ve got. the day off” Dean said as he took another heaped forkful of pie into his mouth. “Mmm” He moaned as his mother chuckled.

“That’s good. The boss man deserves a day off with how hard you work” Mary said. “Bossman?” Dean mumbled again, confused. “Yeah” Mary chuckled. “The one you and F/N own after your dad left his shares to you in his will?” Mary stated as if he was supposed to know this. Which he was, but obviously, Dean was confused.

A nervous laugh escaped his throat as he tried to compose himself, attempting to act as normal as possible. Mary tilted her head when she saw his bewildered look again before continuing, “Are you sure you haven’t been drinking?” She questioned a second time, her hand still gently resting on her son's face.

A lump formed in his throat as he looked at her. A feeling welling up in his chest. “Yeah, I’m sure, mom” He mumbled, forcing a smile. Mary looked worried for her son, wondering if he started drinking frequently again. But she nodded before pulling away, not wanting to rile him up as his eyes landed on the lawn outside the window. Picking up his pie, Dean padded over to the window.

He leaned down to get a better look before saying, “That lawn looks like it could use some mowing” Dean said excitedly as he stuffed his piehole with…..pie. Mary looked surprised at this, “You wanna mow the lawn?” She asked, amused. “Are you kidding me? I’d love to mow the lawn” Dean said enthusiastically like a kid on Christmas.

“Knock yourself out. I think you’d never mowed a lawn in your life” She snorted, sipping her coffee. Dean shrugged at her words but ignored them, he was just so excited to mow a lawn. The domestication of it all was heartwarming for him.

-

Dean reeled the chain back of the lawn mower, happily pushing the machine around the grass. He struggled a bit but quickly got the hang of it. He noticed a neighbor across the street throwing out trash, so he happily waved to the man, who awkwardly waved back at him.

Dean didn’t think too much of it, instead. He continued mowing the lawn.

-

After finishing up the yard work, Dean sat contently, relaxing on the steps to the porch of his mom’s house. A beer in his hand, He took a swig, “Ahhh” he breathed out. He let his head roll back, his eyes fluttered shut as he took in a deep breath, letting his eyes travel back to the lawn, the sweat on his forehead glistening as it hit the setting sunlight.

His thoughts got interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up, his eyes darted back towards the driveway. His eyes widened when he saw a car pull into the driveway, someone he believed to have been gone appeared. “I don’t believe it” Dean gasped as M/N pulled up with Jessica, Sam, and F/N. Jessica was alive and well.

Dean instantly pulled Jess into a tight hug, grunting as the college student gasped. “Jessica,” Dean said with relief. “Good to see you too, Dean” Jessica chuckled awkwardly, wiggling in his tight grip. “You’re okay” Dean mumbled in her hair. “Dean. Can’t breathe” Jessica groaned, causing Dean to finally let go.

Sam looked a bit confused at his brother, who now had a huge smile on his face, which was pretty rare when it came to him. Dean’s eyes landed on Y/N’s father, who was helping Sam unload the trunk. An almost tearstrucken expression was on Dean’s face, “F/N” Dean pulled him into a bone crushing hug as M/N smiled at the affection Dean displayed.

The two never had that since they were always at each other’s throats, oppositely contrasting real life. F/N’s eyes widened in disbelief and surprise at the hug. He instantly brushed him off, leading Dean to be confused. “It’s Mr. L/N to you, son,” He said sternly.

Dean’s smile faded as he looked at Y/N’s dad, slightly shocked. He took a step back, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle as he muttered an apology, “Right. Sorry, Mr. L/N” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, shooting a glance at Sam who shrugged in response.

M/N’s smile dropped at his rude response, she smacked her husband on his arm roughly. “Be nice!” She chastised him as Sam and Jessica shared an amused look. F/N winced and rubbed his arm where his wife smacked him before he let out a laugh, “Hey! I was nice” He protested. The corners of Dean’s mouth curled into a smile as he shoved his free hand in his pocket.

M/N rolled her eyes in response at her husband’s usual stern behavior to Dean before turning to him. “Tell your mom we’ll be right over, honey. We’re just gonna put his stuff away” M/N said gently to Dean, pointing to their house across the street before patting his cheek.

“Of course” Dean smiled, running a hand through his short cut hair. “See y’all in a minute” He called over his shoulder, watching as the married couple walked across the street with the luggage. M/N was firmly pointing at her husband for being rude while he said lowly, “What’d I do? I was nice” F/N protested.

But M/N wasn’t having any of it, “You were rude, and you know you were. You’re always like this with the boy” M/N said, shaking her head at her husband. Dean’s brows furrowed, confused as to why Y/N’s father seemed to not like him. But he brushed it off, shaking the thought.

“Sammy, look at you!” Dean then turned to his little brother, patting him on his shoulder. “You’re with Jessica, that's- I don’t believe it” Dean chuckled as Sam smiled. “Yeah” Sam said a little awkwardly. “Where'd you guys come from?” Dean asked the crew. “We just flew in from California” Sam Said as if Dean was supposed to know that.

“California! Stanford, huh? Law school, I bet” Dean exclaimed excitedly. Sam slightly scoffed at his enthusiasm, “I see you started off Mom’s birthday with a bang, as usual” Sam said with a bit of judgment, gesturing to his beer. Dean blinked twice, “Wait, Mom’s birthday. That’s- That’s today?” Dean stuttered.

Sam raised his brows at his brother, “Yeah. Yeah, Dean. That’s today. That’s why we’re here. Don’t tell me you forgot” Sam shook his head at him in disapproval. Dean gulped slightly, feeling guilty for not knowing, even though there was no way he could’ve even known.

____________________________________________

Later that night, the Winchester’s and L/N’s were dining at quite an exquisite restaurant for Mary’s birthday. The table was filled with chatter and laughter, “Wow, that- that looks awesome” Dean said sarcastically with a grimace as the waiter set down his food, which was practically asparagus on a stick. The table erupted in laughter as Y/N gently placed her hand on her fiancé’s thigh.

“Alright. To Mom, Happy Birthday” Sam put up his wine in a toast, “Happy Birthday” Y/N and Jess both said to her as everyone raised their glasses. Mary smiled happily, letting the warm feeling spread through her chest as she thanked her family. Jessica then leaned over to place a kiss on Sam’s lips.

Dean looked at the pair with awe, a warm feeling in his chest, he was beyond relieved to see his little brother happy. Though, he did wonder about Jo. But he put two and two together in his head, realizing that they met Jo on a hunt. So since they have a normal life, they never met.

“I was really worried about you last night” Y/N said softly to him, causing Dean to break his gaze away from the couple. “Oh, I’m- I’m good. I’m really good” Dean assured her, his heart skipping a beat at the feeling of her hand gently caressing his thigh. “Okay” Y/N nodded, though she didn’t believe him, but she decided not to push.

Her eyes flickered down to Dean’s very unappetizing looking food, a coy smile on her face. “Why don’t you say later we get you a cheeseburger and we can watch American Pie on Blu-Ray” Y/N said in a suggestive tone. “Oh God, yes” Dean almost moaned at the thought, causing Y/N to snort in response as lightly bit her lip.

Cheeseburgers and American Pie were code for “food and sex” when it comes to them. But Dean didn’t know that yet.

“How did I end up with such an amazing woman” Dean said with awe. A smile spread across Y/N features as she gently squeezed her fiancé’s thigh. “I’ve just got low standards” She joked. Dean snorted as He looked at her lovingly, a small smile on his face as his eyes roamed her features.

“What?” Y/N asked suddenly as she caught Dean studying her. He shook his head in response as he said softly, “Nothing. Just admiring you, as always” Y/N’s eyes softened at his response before leaning over to place a small gentle kiss on his lips.

F/N narrowed his eyes at his daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law, but said nothing as he glanced over at the young couple, shaking his head slightly as he took a sip of his wine. His wife shot him another stern look, firmly pointing her finger at her husband in a manner that said, ‘Behave’. F/N sighed deeply, giving an almost bored look at his wife before turning back to his food, a grumpy look on his face.

Sam cleared his throat, “Alright, Jess and I actually have another surprise for Mom’s birthday” Sam began before turning to Jess. “Uh, you wanna tell them?” He asked her. “They’re your family�� Jess said shyly, “What? Tell me what?” Mary asked curiously, Sam then lifted Jess’ hand to display her engagement ring.

Dean’s jaw dropped as gasps were heard around the table. “Sam!” He exclaimed, his eyes moving from Jess’ hand to his little brother, shock still written on his features. Y/N placed her hand over her mouth, excitement radiating off of her as Mary and M/N clapped their hands together, a huge smile on their face, “Oh, my God! You’re getting married!” Mary cried, bringing a hand up to her lips.

The older woman instantly got up along with M/N And Y/N. “That’s so wonderful!” Mary exclaimed as she pulled Jess into a hug. “Thank you” Jess smiled as Mary let go. “Congratulations, honey” M/N Said as she hugged the young girl. “Thank you, Mrs. L/N” Jess giggled before turning to Y/N after her mom let her go.

Y/N pulled her into a tight hug as she exclaimed, “We’re both gonna be Winchesters!” A smile spread across Jess’ features as she pulled away, “I know. I’m so excited!” Jess gushed. Y/N pulled back and held Jess’ hands in hers. “Let me see that ring,” She said expectantly.

Jess giggled as she held her hand out before Y/N gently took it, admiring the ring. “It’s so beautiful” Y/N commented, letting go of Jess’s hand and turning to Sam. She gave him a quick thumbs up as Dean got up to give Jess a tight bear hug, lifting her up slightly from the floor as Mary hugged Sam. “I just wish your dad was here” Mary said to her younger son.

“Yeah, me too” Sam said softly to his mother, hugging her tighter before pulling away. Dean then moved to shake his little brother's hand, “Congratulations, Sammy” Dean said sincerely as Sam eyed him weirdly at the term ‘Sammy’. “Thanks,” Sam said gratefully, “I’m really glad you’re happy. Even if it’s not with Jo, I know you loved Jess” Dean’s words spewed out of his mouth without thinking.

Sam raised his eyes at his brother, confusion written on his face, "What are you talking about?” He questioned, "Who’s Jo?" Dean’s mouth slightly went agape when he realized what he said but he didn’t get a chance to clear up his words, due to the girl from earlier that day appearing at the corner of the restaurant.

Dean’s eyes wide fed as he pushed past his brother, immediately rushing over to the girl. He brushed past a few people, his eyes leaving the young girl for a split second, only for her to disappear again, gone into thin air.

Everyone at the table looked at Dean with confusion as he turnt back to them gulping, F/N especially with a look of disapproval aimed in his direction as he crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head.

____________________________________________

The two families were laughing and chattering as they reentered the Winchester residence. “So, Dean, what was all that back at the restaurant?” Sam asked his brother as they walked into the living room, all the ladies were talking amongst themselves as he said. “Oh, I thought I saw someone. I’m sure its nothing” Dean assured him.

“Well, I had a lovely birthday. Thank you” Mary said sincerely to everyone. “Goodnight” Everyone Said in unison as Jess And Y/N blew kisses to their future mother-in-law. Mary smiled as she started to rub her eyes. “Goodnight” She said, blowing kisses to everyone before wrapping her arms around M/N, drawing her in for a tight hug.

“Thank you for baking the cake, it was delicious” Mary said to her best friend with much gratitude. “It was my pleasure as always, Mar” M/N squeezed her back before letting go, moving back to cling to her husband as Mary walked up the stairs. A little yawn left her lips. “I think you and I should hit the hay” F/N chuckled, gently wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist, letting her lean against him.

“Agreed” M/N said, a small smile on her face before turning to her daughter. “Goodnight, baby” M/N said softly. “Goodnight, Mom.” Y/N said as she leaned in to hug her mom, a smile on her face. She then plastered on a fake smile towards her father before awkwardly hugging him.

“Have a great night everyone, love you y/n/n” F/N said to his daughter gently, a bit of despair in his eyes. “You too, daddy” Y/N responded half heartedly. Her dad sighed before shooting Dean one last glare. He then opened his door for his wife, before walking out behind her and shutting the door behind him as Dean smiled awkwardly.

“Yeah, well. I’m beat” Sam said tiredly, “Ready to turn in?” He asked Jess. “Sure” Jess nodded. “Alright, night guys” Sam smiled at everyone, “Goodnight” Y/N muttered But Dean’s face dropped. “Hey, hey. Wait a second, wait a second. Come on, it’s not even 9 o'clock yet.” Dean protested. “Let’s, uh, let’s go have a drink or something” Dean suggested.

Y/N shrugged in agreement, not minding the idea of hanging out with everyone. “Maybe another time,” Sam said, a little irritated. “Come on, man. Look at us. I mean, we both have beautiful women on our arms. We’re both engaged. Let’s go celebrate!” Dean chuckled, smacking Sam on his chest lightly.

A silence fell in the room due to the way Sam was looking at Dean, “Guys, can you excuse us. I just wanna talk to my brother” Sam said to the ladies politely. “Sure. Come on, Y/N” Jess shrugged, gesturing for both her and Y/N to leave. “Thanks,” Sam smiled but Y/N narrowed her eyes at Sam.

“Don’t start, Samuel” She whispered in a warning tone before following Jessica out of the kitchen. Sam raised his hands in defense, “Won’t do anything” He assured her as she, as well as Jess, left the room. Y/N him one last pointed look over her shoulder before shutting the door behind her.

Sam turned to his brother, an irritated look on his face. “Okay, what’s gotten into you?” He questioned. “What? What do you mean?” Dean asked, confused. “I mean, this whole…warm fuzzy ecstasy-trip thing” Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean. “I’m just happy for you, Sammy,” Dean smiled, patting his brother on his arm. Sam rolled his eyes with a tight smile.

“Yeah. Right. That’s another thing. Since when do you call me Sammy?” Sam scoffed. Dean's brows furrowed, his heart dropping. “Dean, come on. We don’t talk outside of holidays” Sam pointed out. Dean blinked twice in shock, “We don’t?” He asked surprised. “Well, we should. I mean, you’re my brother” Dean chuckled, trying to ignore the tugging pain in his chest.

“You’re my brother?” Sam huffed, shaking his head. “Yeah,” Dean smiled. “You know, that's what you said when you snagged my ATM card. Or when you crashed my car. Or when you bailed on me and Y/N’s high school graduation.” Sam pointed out his multiple mistakes as Dean’s mouth went agape again. “Yeah, that kinda does sound like me,” Dean admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well, hey man, I’m sorry about all that-” Dean tried to apologize, stepping closer to Sam but he cut him off and stepped away. “No. Look. It’s alright. I just— you know, I’m not asking you to change. I just, uh….I don’t know. I guess we just don’t really have anything in common. You know?” Sam said, shrugging. Dean felt his heart drop in his chest again.

A lump grew in his throat as Sam moved to walk away. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Yes, we do. Yes, we do” Dean stammered, pulling Sam back. “What?” Sam raised his brows. “Hunting” Dean took a chance. “Hunting? I’ve never been hunting in my life, Dean” Sam scoffed. Dean swallowed harshly, his heart caught in his throat,

“Yeah, well, we should go sometime. Me, you and Y/N. I think you guys would be great at it” Dean said sadly, this made Sam even more confused. “Y/N? We've barely talked since high school since you two hooked up on our prom night” Sam snorted.

Dean’s heart felt like it had been stabbed as Sam’s words sank in. “What? You guys don’t talk?” He asked in disbelief. Sam shook his head, burying his hands in his pockets as he looked at his brother, still confused. “Why not?” Dean asked genuinely, feeling another pang of pain in his chest, he was trying to wrap his head around all the things that had been said tonight.

He thought that he and Y/N were the best of friends, hell, they were practically siblings, so why would they not talk?

“People just…drift” Sam shrugged, eyeing his brother weirdly. “That fucking sucks, you two were like ring on finger” Dean gaped, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, people change,” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. A silence fell between them as Dean took in the newly found information, “Get some rest” Sam said softly to his brother before leaving the room. The shock still evident on Dean’s face.

____________________________________________

It was later that night, Dean and Y/N were back at their own house while Dean sat on the couch in the living room. His mind was racing and stuck on that dreadful conversation he had with Sam. His heart was caught in his throat, a sick feeling churning in his stomach at the fact that he and his brother were not close and neither was his brother and the love of his life.

Y/N noticed Dean was a bit in his head as she entered the living room, a sigh escaped her lips as she padded over to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and took out two beers, she then popped the bottle cap open with a silver ring on her right hand. She then headed back into the living room, offering her fiancé the beer.

Dean’s eyes snapped over to her, his expression softening. “My favorite. I guess you know me pretty well” Dean said softly as he accepted the beer, “Afraid so” Ashe teased, plopping on the couch next to him. “You alright, baby?” Y/N asked gently.

Dean gave her a thin smile before bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a sip of the beverage. The conversation with his brother had really been bugging him. How could they have not been talking? When did they stop talking? And when did Sam and Y/N stop being friends?

“Sammy and I don’t get along. And you guys stopped talking” Dean said, glancing down at the bottle in his hands as Y/N sipped from her own bottle. “Well, you don't really spend a lot of time together and me and Sam sorta just…drifted. It happens, people change. I mean, I just think you dont know each other all that well” Y/N said gently, a small frown on my face.

“And for the record, he doesn't know what he's missing” She added, offering Dean a smile, which he returned. “I could fix things with us. I can make it up to you guys….to everyone” Dean said confidently, nodding. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion. “Okay…what's gotten into you lately?” She asked with a small chuckle.

“This isnt gonna make a lick of sense to you, princess. But I kinda feel like I've been given a second chance. And I don’t wanna waste it” Dean said wholeheartedly as he stared at Y/N lovingly. Calling her ‘princess’ felt wrong here to him but he didn’t care, he wanted it to be real so bad. “You're right, it doesn't make any sense. But I’m all in” Y/N chuckled.

Dean grinned at her words as he placed a gentle hand on Y/N's thigh "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are," he said softly, his emerald eyes filled with tenderness. Y/N smiled shyly, a light blush spreading across her cheeks, “You only say that every hour” She teased, taking another sip of her beer. “Not that I’m complaining, it gives me an ego boost” She joked.

Dean chuckled along with Y/N, the sound of her laughter music to his ears. The thought that had crossed his mind earlier in the day resurfaced, prompting him to ask her a question. “Hey, princess,” he began. Y/N looked at him expectantly, curious about what he was going to say. “I gotta ask…why does your dad hate me?” Dean asked, tilting his head a bit.

Y/N let out a sigh, a slight frown on her face as she recalled the strained relationship between her father and fiancé. "It's complicated, babe. My dad's just a bit of a control freak, especially when it comes to me" She explained with a hint of frustration.

Dean looked confused, he was used to F/N being controlling in reality but the man never seemed to hate him before. If anything, he adored Dean. So F/N hating Dean right now was foreign to him. “You know, since that night..” Y/N said lowly, Dean was even more confused now.

"Since what night?" Dean asked, a frown forming on his face as he tried to decipher why F/N’s behavior had drastically changed towards him. Y/N took a deep breath before answering, the memory still a bit raw. “Don’t you remember the night of my prom?” She asked. "Well…not exactly" Dean admitted, trying to recall the event, only to come up blank.

Y/N gave him an incredulous look, “You don't remember?” She asked in surprise, her tone almost sounding hurt. Dean’s heart sank at Y/N’s reaction, he hated the thought that he’d done something to hurt her, but he genuinely had no memory of what took place on prom night, at least in this world.

"Look, I'm sorry, princess," Dean began, moving closer to Y/N and taking her hand in his. "I seriously can't remember a thing about that night. Can you tell me what happened?" He asked gently. “We lost our virginities to each other and Dad caught us a couple weeks later hooking up at a motel, how could you not remember that?”

A mixture of realization and shock washed over Dean as Y/N's words sank in. It all made sense now why her father hated him with a fiery passion. “And then he kicked me out the same night when he said he didn’t approve of our relationship” Y/N further explained, caressing Dean’s hand with her thumb.

"Jesus... no wonder he hates me" Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. It all made perfect sense now. But the memory of that night was still a complete blank for him.

"I personally don’t think that's why he doesn’t like you. I think it's because you proved him wrong” Y/N assured Dean. Dean furrowed his brows, puzzled by Y/N's statement. "Proved him wrong? What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely curious as he rest his beer down on the table. “Jesus, charming. What’s going on with your memory?” Y/N chuckled.

Dean cracked a small sheepish grin, realizing how dense he sounded. "Right, sorry. Go on" he chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze. “After he cut me off from my trust fund and John cut you off from yours. You worked your ass off and put me through college. Dad never thought you had it in you, but I knew you did. He has not choice but to respect you, but Dad being Dad is too prideful to admit it”

Dean’s expression softened as Y/N recounted their history. After what Sam told him, it messed with his head. Realizing he was practically the family fuck-up, the black sheep…it hurt him to say the least. But now knowing that Y/N stood beside him through all he had supposedly done and he did whatever it took to support the love of his life despite getting completely cut off, Dean felt a sense of pride and accomplishment in himself.

He felt like he was worth something, because everyone including God himself knows how Dean Winchester thinks of himself. A proud smile tugged at his lips, his loving gaze never leaving Y/N’s face.

"I'll do whatever it takes” Dean said tenderly, squeezing her hand again. She giggled lightly at this, resting her own beer down besides his, “I know you will, and that's one of the many reasons why I love you” Y/N said softly as she brought her hand up to cup Dean’s cheek, he automatically leaned into her touch, nuzzling into her hand like a kitten.

“And I love you too, more than anything" he replied tenderly, placing a soft kiss on her palm. “Besides, Adrienne was always his golden child” Y/N said with a bitter tone and a scoff as she pulled away. Dean furrowed his brows, confused by the new name she had mentioned. "Who's Adrienne?" he asked quizzically, his curiosity piqued.

“My little sister.” Y/N said as if Dean was supposed to know that, rolling her eyes. His eyes widened in surprise. Y/N had a little sister??? His mind then went back to the little girl in the pictures at his mom’s house, that must've been Adrienne.

“The one who tried to sleep with you last time she was in town” Y/N added bitterly. "It's always been ‘Adrienne this, Adrienne that’ “ she imitated her father's voice. Dean's smile dropped as he processed Y/N's words.

He couldn't recall the interaction with her sister or any prior mention of her, but the idea of anyone trying to come between them made him feel rather possessive.

"She tried to what?! ” Dean exclaimed, a hint of anger in his tone. "Relax, baby” Y/N chuckled as she placed a soothing hand on his chest. "You shut her down pretty quick, if I recall. You drunkenly said I was ‘the one’ and then proceeded to scream your lungs out at her, I think I’m safe” she replied, amused by his reaction.

“It's why you put a ring on it” Y/N teased, gesturing to her engagement ring, admiring it in her hand. Dean smirked as he watched Y/N admiring the ring on her finger. "I knew it would look good on you" he said with a hint of admiration in his voice. Seeing her wear the physical symbol of their commitment filled him with a sense of contentment and belonging.

“I’ll never forget you kneeling down in that stadium while Bon Jovi was playing ‘All About Lovin’ You’ and you asking me to marry you.” Y/N reminisced, resting her head on Dean’s shoulder. A warm smile played on Dean's lips as Y/N recounted the proposal. Even without his memory of it, he could tell it must’ve been special.

The fact that he had chosen such a romantic setting because he was never a huge Bon Jovi fan but Y/N loved the band’s music. The fact that he chose something so close to her heart filled him with a sense of satisfaction. "That sounds like a pretty perfect moment" he said, a hint of longing in his voice.

"You were so nervous" Y/N chuckled. "You kept shaking your hands and your leg kept bouncing up and down," she added, recalling the proposal with a fond look. Dean shook his head with a mock frown, "Shut up" he muttered playfully. “You know….I get it” Dean said softly, tracing circles on her hip with his thumb.

Y/N hummed in response, enjoying the feeling of his touch on her skin. "Get what?" she asked curiously, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him. “Why you’re the one,” Dean responded, connecting his eyes with hers, this gaze filled with love and admiration. Y/N felt a warm sensation in her chest as she returned his gaze, his eyes so full of love and tenderness. "Oh, really?” she asked, teasing him a bit.

Dean grinned as he nodded, attaching his lips to hers. Y/N let out a small gasp of surprise, which soon melted into a soft moan as she returned the kiss eagerly. The way he took charge sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine, her heart hammering in her chest.

Dean's hand on her hip began to wander, gently caressing her body through the thin fabric of her clothing. His other hand moved to cup her face, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. There was a voice at the back of his mind that was screaming at him to stop, telling him this wasn’t right as Y/N straddled him.

Dean's mind waged a war with itself, her presence in his lap both tantalizing and guilt-inducing. He wanted her, craved her, and yet he couldn't shake the nagging thoughts that told him it was wrong, Dean couldn’t bring himself to do it just yet.

He pulled back from the kiss, panting lightly as he looked up at Y/N. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen and parted in a gasp. "We gotta stop,” he said quietly, his voice filled with both desire and restraint. Dean brought his lips to her neck, “Mhhmm” Y/N panted, groaning slightly as she rocked her core against his growing erection.

Dean stifled a moan as she rocked against him, his hands on her hips gripping just a bit tighter. "We gotta stop..” he repeated, though his body was clearly at odds with his words. “I know, I know, i've got work” Y/N sighed, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

Dean returned the kiss, his fingers moving to run through her hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers. "You gotta work now?” he asked, his voice thick with desire but also confusion because it was nearly midnight. “I told you, I’ve got the night shifts on Thursday” Y/N responded as she reluctantly peeled herself away from him and headed over to the closet.

Dean’s brows furrowed as he picked up his beer from the table and followed behind her, “You work nights at the uh…” He began as he stepped into the closet to see Y/N with a hanger in her hand, nurse scrubs attached to them, “…hospital.” He finished, an impressed grin on his face. “I’m engaged to a nurse. That is so respectable….and hot” Dean muttered to himself as he eyed Y/N’s ass while taking a sip of his beer.

He wondered to himself why Y/N decided to go into nursing due to the fact she always had a love for music, but Dean shrugged it off.

______________________________________________

Authors Note: Okay soooo, Tumblr told me that my post was too long so I had to split this into two parts.

Part Two Here!

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258

Xoxo

[babymetaldoll]

Are you mine? - Chapter eleven: "The pieces this job takes"

Summary: The Reids welcome little Vinny, and Raven will have to deal with being a sister now. The team has to say good bye to a member, and Spencer will just have to deal with changes one more time.  Word count: 11.094 Warnings: This is a painful chapter for Spencer.  A/N: Sorry I couldn't post last week,  I had an accident (don't worry, I'm ok). I love Anderson's moment to shine in this chapter, and I hate putting Spencer through more trauma. Also, I was so sad writing Raven's tantrum... I totally understand her. 

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter (post date: November 13th)

(Y/N)’s point of view 

Morgan took six months off after what happened to him. He had to recover mentally and physically, which was neither easy nor fast. I know some things happened to him he wasn’t sharing with us, not even with Savannah. He didn’t want to be a burden for her, and that’s a feeling I can absolutely understand.

We saw him a lot though, which was good. We were there for him the day he and Savanna got married in a beautiful ceremony, and he was there for us the day Vincent was born.

Considering the team was down two members, Hotch couldn’t let Spencer stay at Quantico the last couple of weeks before the baby’s due date. Of course, that means I was in the bullpen when my water broke.

Honestly, sometimes I wonder why we didn't leave the FBI sooner. I'm fully aware I keep saying the same the entire time, but it’s shocking how things were a hot mess and we never noticed. Why were we so blind?

I wanted to kill Hotch for forcing Spencer to go with the team to solve a case in Alabama when I was so close to my due date. I understood things were critical without Morgan on the team and with me not being able to fly. But yet, you’d expect some humanity. I guess sometimes work comes first for some people.

My water broke as I walked from Garcia’s office to my desk to pick up some files. I froze on my spot and didn’t know what to do for a few seconds. My mind went blank. That was not supposed to happen like that. Not with Spencer away. And definitely not in the middle of the office.

- “Anderson…”- I looked around me and found him at his desk, typing something.- “Sonny, can you help me?”

- “What happened, Reid?”- ever since I married Spencer, he has loved calling me by my new last name.

- “Uhm… can you come over?”

- “Give me a minute.”- and he kept typing, not even looking at me. I didn’t want to yell I was almost popping a baby right there, but my friend wasn’t giving me another chance.

- “I can’t wait. Please.”

- “Come on, Reid.”

- “Agent Grant Anderson, I need you. Now.”- a few other heads turned as my voice filled the bullpen. Anderson turned to me shocked, but I’m guessing my freaked-out face forced him to bite his tongue at whatever he was going to say and he rushed over to me.

- “What… oh shit.”- he looked at the puddle on the floor between my legs and understood it all in a second.

- “Yes.”- I cut him a short smile and took a deep breath. I had to do my best not to freak out too.

- “What now?”- Anderson whispered, remaining calm.

- “I need you to drive me to the hospital. Garcia is busy helping the team.”

- “Ok, do you wanna call Reid first?”

- “First, I wanna call my doctor. And I need to tell Garcia. Spencer is gonna freak out and there is no need to get him worried when this can still take a few more hours.”- I did my best to remain calm knowing as soon as Spencer knew what was happening, he was ditching the team and taking the first flight back home.

- “Ok, you wanna sit down while I get Garcia?”

- “I don’t wanna get the chair all dirty.”- I argued as Anderson moved a chair closer.

- “Don’t be silly, Reid. Sit down, I’ll bring Garcia and your phone so you can dial your doctor, ok?”- I simply nodded and watched him sprint across the office.

Raven took her sweet time when she was born, but not our Vincent. He was ready to take over the world in no time. Contractions hit me hard and I was worried my husband wasn’t going to make it on time to be with me during labor. Did I tell him? Of course not, I knew he was freaking out and I didn’t want to worry him anymore.

Spencer called me as soon as he could. I didn’t get to him the first time I dialed, so he got the news from Garcia when Anderson was taking me to the hospital.

- “I’m ok, honey. I promise.”- I whispered as soon as I heard his voice on the other side of the line.- “Doctor Feldmann is going to be waiting for me at the hospital, and Frank and Mikey are on their way over.”

- “I’ll ask Morgan to go too.”

- “He has his very own pregnant wife to take care of, hun.”- I reminded him, but I could almost see Spencer’s scowl all the way from Alabama.

- “I can’t believe I am not there with you.”

- “It might take a few more hours, so you’ll be ok. We’ll wait for you to start the fun part.”- I joked knowing there was no way I could predict that, but I needed to give Spencer some peace of mind.

- “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll call you when my flight arrives.”- I heard Spencer sigh at the other side of the line and my chest tightened knowing how bad he felt being away from me at that minute.

- “I love you so much honey bunny. Be safe, ok?”

- “I’m so sorry, chipmunk. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

- “I know. Please, take care.”

- “Ok, nugget. Your mom is on her way with Raven, I got you ice, and some marshmallows in case your sugar drops. I think we are covered. Do you have to start pushing already? Shit, I’m not ready for that. Please don’t start pushing yet.”- Frank rushed into my room, nearly hyperventilating. He paced across the room, clearly freaking out, as I stared at him, and the nurse raised an eyebrow.

- “Is he the dad?”

- “Nope-” I replied chuckling- “He is not even the godfather. Just my best friend.”

- “Basically I’m like a brother to you.”- Frank replied right away, and pretended to be shocked - “And I am not Vinny’s godfather? Are you serious? What are you talking about? I feel betrayed.”

- “I told you, it’s gonna be Mikey. You are Raven’s godfather. You can’t have all the kids.”

- “We are not having this conversation right now. You are clearly sedated.”- I chuckled and stared at my friend, who crossed his arms on his chest and looked at me from the end of my bed.

- “You do realize I haven’t gotten anything yet. I am not even…”- but a contraction stopped my words and ended that silly argument. Frank moved quickly to my side and held my hand tight. He didn’t even say a word, he just stared at me, obviously concerned, and waited until the pain had passed.

- “I’m so not having kids.”- he whispered after a few seconds, making me chuckle.

- “That’s ok, just can you check my vagina and see if I’m dilated already?”- I joked and saw the color leaving his face.- “I’m joking! Go out and wait for my mom. I’ll be fine.”

- “No way. I am not leaving you alone. I’m not getting anywhere near your vagina, but I am not leaving you alone until Spencer is here.”

And he didn’t leave. Frank stayed in my room until my husband got there, five hours later. Morgan, Mikey, and my mom kept me company too. They took Raven to get ice cream from the cafeteria and honestly helped me stay sane. Savannah, who was four months pregnant by then, and still dealing with all the nausea and morning sickness, helped keep me sane during the entire time. She was not only my friend, but also a doctor, and that always helped during delivery.

I will always be grateful for the family of friends we’ve created along the way.

Spencer’s point of view

It was a mess, nothing went as planned. I was in Alabama with the team and took the first flight back home. Garcia called me, nearly crying ‘cos she couldn’t go with my wife to the hospital, she had to work the case along with the team. I froze in place for a few seconds, not knowing what to do first.

- “Anderson is gonna drive her to the hospital. I'll be with her as soon as I can.”

- “I’m on my way.”- that was all I could say before I hung up and turned to Hotch.- “I have to leave. Now.”

Morgan, Frank, and Mikey had to take my place in the hospital while I was away. I nearly got into the pilot’s cabin and yelled at him to take us home faster if possible. Those were the longest four hours of my life, it was torture. I thought I was going to go crazy sitting there thinking my wife was alone in a hospital delivering our baby, and all because work forced me to be out of town.

When I finally got to the hospital, I rushed in flashing my FBI badge to everyone and anyone who could even think of trying to stop me. Am I proud of that? No. Do I regret it? Hell no! I just wanted to be with my wife as soon as possible, no matter what.

- “Reid!”- I heard Morgan’s voice as I rushed down the hall, trying to find the right room. He was with Savannah, Mikey, and Raven.

- “Dada!”- she escaped Mikey’s arms and ran to me. I squatted and opened my arms to hold her. - “Mommy said bad words.”

I chuckled at her comment and kissed her forehead as I stood up and walked toward our friends, who stood up as soon as they saw me.

- “I think today we can spare her a few bad words.”- I whispered into my daughter’s ear and heard her giggle.- “Guys, thank you for being here.”

- “Nothing to thank us for”- Morgan replied immediately- “You should put an eye on your pretty girl. She looked like she was about to pop your kid five minutes ago.”- I widened my eyes, gave Raven to Mikey, and ran to the room.

(Y/N)was squatting on a ball, holding her mother’s hand as Frank kneeled beside her, talking nonstop and looking honestly confused.

- “Oh thank god.”- he mouthered the second he saw me. I rushed in and held my wife tight. She grunted and shook in my arms. That’s when I realized how late I was.

- “I’m here, ma cherie. I’m here.”

- “I know. Vincent is almost here too.”- she whispered and didn’t let go. For a few minutes, it was just us holding each other. I wanted to ask her to forgive me for being so late, but words didn’t leave my lips. Instead, I just kept her close to me for a little longer.

- “I’m gonna get the nurse.”- Sofia said, probably to give us some privacy.

- “And I'm gonna leave this room before our friendship is forever scarred with gore scenes I will never be able to forget.”- Frank added and walked to the door.- “I’ll be out with the guys and my goddaughter.”

- “Thank you.”- that’s all I managed to say, but I’ve always been sure he understood the depth of my words. For a few minutes, it was just us. (Y/N)asked me to help her move to the bed, and I wrapped my arms around her to help her support the weight of her belly.

- “Did you tell Hotch I hate him for keeping you away?”- she muttered in the middle of what was clearly a very painful contraction.

- “Yes, I did.”

I did not. It wasn’t necessary, (Y/N)had made it clear before we left for the case that she was never going to forgive Hotch if the baby was born while I was out of town. The entire team knew it, my wife hadn’t been subtle at all. She stood next to the elevator's door before we left for the case, looked him in the eyes, and said: “If the baby is here and Spencer is still away, I won’t be back for work, ever again.”

- “Good.”- she whispered as I helped her sitting on the hospital bed.- “Honey Bunny, I think I’m ready to push.”

- “Wait just a few more minutes. Your mom is coming with the doctor.”

- “Shit, fuck, for Christ's sake! What shitted mother fucker thought this fuckery was in fact fair for women??!- my wife shouted every curse with such profound heart and pain, it was clear she needed more medication. Who knew when she had gotten her epidural.

- “You know, the first thing Raven told me when I got here was how you had said many bad words today.”- I whispered in her ear as I kept rubbing her back, trying to help her through the pain.

- “I fucking told Mikey to take her out, I didn’t want her to be traumatized and watch me losing it in pain.”- (Y/N)seemed mortified.

- “It’s ok, I told her you were allowed to curse a little today.”- Sofia and a nurse walked into the room, and a doctor followed them a few seconds after.

- “Ok Mrs. Reid, your baby boy seems to be ready.”- doctor Feldmann announced as he sat at the end of the bed and checked on my wife.

- “He feels ready as well.”- she mumbled, doing her best to be strong. I just scooped a little closer and held her a little tighter. I’ve never known what to do during delivery but praying and holding her hand tight. Being next to her while she delivers our babies is magical and agonizing at the same time. I will never love the process, not if I know she is going through an excruciating pain and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

It only took thirty minutes and Vincent Spencer Reid was there with us. His soft cries filled the room and my heart stopped. He was so small, so innocent, so vulnerable. Dr Feldmann placed him on (Y/N)’s chest and she caressed his back carefully, as the two of us stared at him with a loving smile on our lips.

- “Hello baby boy.”- she whispered and her voice shook as tears fell from her eyes.- “Aren’t you a pretty boy. My pretty boy.”

- “Hey there, Vincent. I’m your dad. Hello.”- I ran my fingers down his tiny arm and smiled at him.- “I hope you like baseball ‘cos it’s the only sport I’ve managed to learn so far.”

- “Maybe he’ll teach you, look at those hands, they are so big.”- (Y/N)whispered and touched his fist with her index - “Looks like the hand of a basketball player.”

- “Or maybe he’ll be an artist.”- I suggested and (Y/N)looked at me with a bigger smile.

- “I would love that.”- I stared into her eyes and caressed her cheek a few times, then ran my fingers up to her temples, and wiped a little of her sweat off before kissing her.

- “You did you good, ma cheriè. I’m so proud of you.”

- “I’m glad it went well and that he is here. Wanna go tell the rest?”

- “Not yet.”- I whispered and touched Vinny’s back one more time, enjoying the feeling of having my son there with me for the very first time - “Give me another minute of this.”

- “All the time you want.”- my wife answered and chuckled- “We have a son.”

- “We have a son.”- I smiled at those words and tears blurred my vision for a moment. I had a son, and he was perfect. Life was perfect.

Mikey stood up the second he saw me and his smile mimicked mine as I announced Vinny was there and that everything had gone well. He, Frank, and Morgan hugged me, tapping on my back, and congratulating me. Well, us. I smiled at them as I turned to Raven and opened my arms for her. She was cuddled in Sofia's arms and hesitated for a few seconds before moving toward me.

- “Come on birdy. Do you wanna see mommy and meet your brother?”- Sofia kissed her cheek and encouraged her to go with me, but she still wasn’t sure. I held her and kissed her cheek a few times before announcing.

- “(Y/N)said you guys can come in and say hi after Raven meets her brother. He really wanted to hang out with her first.”

- “Of course man.”- Morgan replied.- “Your baby boy has to meet his big sister first.”

- “I’m not big.”- Raven whispered.- “I’m a baby too.”

I should have seen that reaction coming, honestly. Raven hadn’t been excited during the first few months of (Y/N)’s pregnancy. She actually threw a massive tantrum the day we explained to her what was happening. It hadn’t been easy and Frank stepped up as her godfather and helped her see the benefits of having a little brother. However, we knew Raven would get jealous no matter how. And it was our job to show her nothing was going to change.

- “Baby girl, are you ready?”- I whispered as I held my daughter in my arms and started walking to the room. Raven hid her face on my shoulder and wrapped her arms around me very tight. I could almost feel her little heart beating hard inside her chest. It was a big day for her. The same as it was for us.

- “Hey birdy!”- (Y/N)whispered from her bed, where she sat, nursing Vincent.- “Vinny was just asking for you.”

Raven’s curiosity was bigger than her fear, clearly, ‘cos she slowly moved her face from my neck and turned to look at her brother.

- “Look, that’s your brother, Vincent.”- I sat next to (Y/N)and Raven moved in my arms, trying to get the closest look she could to her brother. She was silent judging the baby. I kept my eyes on her as she raised her little hand and carefully pressed a finger on his cheek.

- “He is so Squishy!”- Raven whispered and giggled.- “Vinny is squishy!!”

- “Yes, he is. And he is very tiny, are you gonna help us teach him all the fun things we do?”- my wife held Raven’s small hand and placed a kiss on it, making our daughter giggle one more time- “Like singing and playing and having tea parties?”

- “Can he wear a tiara?”- I tried not to chuckle at her question ‘cos she was incredibly serious about it.

- “If he wants to, of course.”

- “Don’t worry Birdy. We are still going out every Saturday morning on our dad and daughter dates.”

- “Just us?”- Raven looked at me and her little eyes shone with excitement.

- “Just us.”- I murmured and kissed the top of her head.

- “Do you wanna hold him?”- (Y/N)asked and Raven couldn’t believe it.

- “Yes Mommy!! Please!!”

- “Ok, sit here next to me.”- and as our daughter followed all the instructions my wife gave her and I placed a pillow on her small lap, I stared at the scene unraveling in front of me as I did my best not to cry, but tears kept filling my eyes. My daughter was now a big sister and was holding her little brother in her arms. I chuckled and locked eyes with (Y/N)for a moment. And as we smiled at each other, all I could think of was: I have two kids. Everything I do, I do it for my wife and our two kids.

You don’t know how that thought can change a person. The way it made me feel so much stronger and weaker at the same time. I would do anything for my family. I would fight the world to keep them safe. And at the same time, it petrified me knowing I was now living with my heart outside my chest. They were all I had, all I loved. My entire life.

I never thought I’d have a conversation about this a few months later, with Morgan, right after he came back to the team. We first had a surprise baby shower for him and Savannah in the meeting room. She was nearly on her due date and Morgan was clearly freaking out about becoming a dad, so we tried to help him relax a little and share a nice moment before a big case. (Y/N)was already back working, so she organized everything with Garcia and Savannah. Raven was in Playground and Sofia took care of Vincent while we worked, and though life was crazy, you could say we were managing.

We had a case that very same day that took us to Witchita, a double homicide and a child abduction. It hit differently when they were kids involved. To all of us now, but I’m guessing Morgan wasn’t ready to be back on the field and dealing with something like that.

We were in the police office, just us, going over some information while the rest of the team gathered a few things. I was going over some info, and Morgan seemed lost, sitting there, his mind and thoughts just weren’t in the room with us.

- “The glue our unsub used is sold practically everywhere, so we can't isolate the point of purchase.”- I pointed out as I read one of the files we had.- “A mineral analysis from the sand, however, indicates that it came from the Seneca River in upstate New York.”

Morgan didn’t reply. I doubt he even heard me. I kept my eyes on him as I straightened up and walked a little closer to him.

- “You ok?”

- “Yeah.”- he replied, but his eyes were so sad and concerned it was clear he was not, in fact, ok.

- “Morgan, we're gonna find the people who tried to kill you.”- I said as I sat on a chair in front of him, trying to reassure him that things were going to be ok. But that was not what clouded his mind, not that minute at least.

- “He was in his pajamas.”- he mumbled, staring at a point on the wall. He must have felt I wasn’t getting where he was going, ‘cos he quickly added. - “Ronnie Brewer. Out there by the side of the road, he was still in his pajamas.”

I looked at my hands and took a deep breath. That was a fact I knew, but I was trying my best not to overanalyze it. Not to imagine my kids in his place either. Not to lose it in the middle of an investigation. It’s hard to keep your head cold. You might think it gets easier with the years, but no. It only gets worse. The more you get involved in the cases, the more parts of you you give.

- “I'm sorry, kid.”- Morgan tried to justify his behavior.- “I, uh, I don't know, man. Six months on the sidelines. I guess I still have a few blisters where I used to have calluses.”

- “I don't think that's what this is.”- I say looking straight at his face with a short smile.

- “Oh, no?”- I shook my head when he stared at me confused - “Then what is it?”

- “You're about to be a dad. You know? You have to expect the world to start to feel different.

- “Did it happen to you?”

- “Of course. And it’s terrifying!”- I confessed and tried to be as honest as possible, ‘cos maybe that would help him relax a little. He sighed and held his head with one head for a minute, trying to focus and rearrange his thoughts.

- “It just feels so hard. Not as in difficult. Literally hard.”- Morgan started explaining how he felt. And it was something that I could definitely understand. - “Like asphalt is hard. Like pavement.”

- “And children are soft.”- I added, and the thought of Raven touching Vincent’s cheek saying how “squishy” he was filled my mind and my heart with love and fear. These two feelings that, apparently by rule, always came together in my life.

- “Yeah. Defenseless.”- Morgan added, mumbling under breath.

- “That's why every day we try to make this world a little safer.”- I said and tried to smile at him, though the frown on his face didn’t move.

- “How do you do it? You have two, you’ve seen the worst people can do.”

- “We are making a change, one day at a time. I will never look at the world the way I did before I was a father. But it helps knowing there are people like us, catching bad guys. I guess focusing on the good instead of the horror is what keeps me going.”

Morgan stared at me in silence, like analyzing everything I had just said. For the first time in my life, I felt like he was the one who needed my help. I was usually the one lost in a world with too many messages I couldn’t understand. And Morgan was the one helping me decoding them and teasing me about it.

But not this time.

- “If there's one thing I'm sure of, is that you and Savannah are going to be great parents.”- I added and smiled at him. Morgan chuckled and realized the position we were at. Me, giving him advice for once.

- “Charge by the hour, Doc?

- “Yeah, but you need to book your appointment at least two days ahead.”- I teased and my friend finally laughed. For the first time in what seemed to be years.

(Y/N)’s point of view

I tried to be rational. I swear. But after baby number two and going back to work, I hated how everything had changed. I could feel it around me, and I know Spencer felt it too, though I’m not sure if he felt it at the same level I did.

It was clear Morgan was leaving. I could feel it in my guts the second he walked back to the bullpen after those six months away, and I tried to prepare my husband for it. Change is part of life, that I can not change (see what I did there?). But that doesn’t mean we are always gonna love each one of the changes of ties that life sends our way. Derek had the right to start a new life, and the time felt right. It made me wonder, yet again, if leaving the BAU was the right path to follow. But at that time, it didn’t make as much sense as it does now. I guess I wasn’t ready to deal with everything that would unravel with time.

One of those things was so embarrassing I kept pushing it aside and failed. But it was so incredibly embarrassing, that I couldn’t tell anyone but Lu.

I was jealous. Seriously jealous. Of JJ.

At that time it was mainly because my stomach kept telling me there was something odd about how sometimes, especially during cases. She acted somehow territorial about Spencer. Like he was hers. That made no sense, obviously. He was my husband and only her friend. I wasn’t proud of how I felt, but a voice deep inside of me kept warning me about her attitude.

But instead of listening to my instinct, I tried to bury it. I excused my own brain, telling myself it was all because I had just had a baby and I was feeling insecure. Which was probably true, in part. But there was something about how JJ always found an excuse to be close to my husband that bothered me the second I came back to work after my maternity leave.

It didn’t really help that we were under similar conditions. Both had two kids and husbands on the field. A very demanding job, eyes for Spencer the entire time he was around. And it felt like she had her shit together, not like me, who struggled every day. Not JJ. She was fucking perfect. From her hair to her attitude and her outfits. There was no way she was a mother of two, her body was, for lack of a better word, perfect. I was filled with stretch marks underneath my clothes, making me feel incredibly self-conscious. I knew it was normal, I had two babies, my body was going to change, and Spencer seemed to be ok with that. But it felt unfair. JJ looked the same. I looked like a mom. I hated it.

- “You do realize you are being incredibly hormonal about this. Right?”- Lu suggested one afternoon when I managed to call her in between kids, cases, and house chores. Spencer had taken Raven to the store to get some things I needed to cook dinner, and Vinny was napping. So I called my friend as I started catching up with laundry.

- “Define being hormonal, please.”

- “You are not being rational, and you always keep your head cold, and this is so not you. Who cares about JJ? Spencer loves you!”

- “I know, but… she is so much better than me in every single fucking way. It’s annoying.”

- “That’s all in your head!”- I could basically hear my friend’s grin through the line. - “All this ‘cos you are no longer a size… what’s your size again?”

- “No! all this ‘cos I feel like a big fucking failure!”

- “How are you even failing? You do more in a day than Frankie does in a year.”- I tried not to chuckle at the comparison because I was trying to show her how upset I was.

- “I mean it, Lu! I know this is not a competition, but what if Spencer realizes I am a shitty wife, a lousy mother, and a sickening sight when naked.”

- “Aren’t you being silly? That man has loved you since before he could even start talking to you or even looking you in the eye. So stop it.”

- “He loved her first”

- “He had a silly crush on her before he met you. That’s it. You’ve always felt threatened by her. It’s not just now. And that’s because you can not believe something this good could happen to you. But it did, so be grateful and enjoy it.”- Lu gave a very compelling speech, I gotta admit. But one thing kept bothering me.

- “What if she is in fact in love with him and tries to do something?”

- “Then she is the most stupid FBI agent I’ve ever met.”

I remember chuckling at her response, thinking if JJ ever tried to make her move on my husband, not only I was going to go absolutely unsub with her, but probably Lu, my mom, and even Frank and Mikey could definitely bring her down.

But, much as I tried, things had changed. I could feel it. It was obvious even when nothing was happening at the bullpen. And it was clear the second Morgan came back to work. He wasn’t the same man that had left six months earlier. None of us were anymore.

The last case we worked with Morgan was the worst we had had since he had been kidnapped.

Savannah got shot. That day we were about to leave the bullpen when Garcia got the call. Spencer was talking with JJ as I grabbed all my things, already late to Raven’s school spring recital. Our daughter was so excited about the recital, her class was going to sing a song and she had practiced for weeks. She was confident she was good at it, and all she could talk about was how much she wanted to show her dad how well she and her friend were going to sing. It broke my heart to miss that show. I know it broke Spencer’s as well.

Pen rushed over, tears already falling down her cheeks, as she explained what had just happened. Morgan was at the hospital with Savannah. They were trying to save her and their baby. Things didn’t look good. In a second we were running to the elevator and Hotch drove us to the crime scene.

You don’t know how hard it is to call it a “crime scene” when it’s the place your friend was hurt. Hotch tried to keep Derek out of the investigation for obvious reasons, Morgan wasn’t in his right mind. None of us were, to be honest. But I knew keeping him out of the investigation was basically impossible. So I entered mode S.A.A Reid, and hid all my fears and worries, even my daughter’s deception (I knew I was going to deal with that later). I needed to help our friends.

I called my mom from the car. I tried to explain what had just happened and why we couldn’t be there with our daughter. We jumped out of the SUV as soon as we got there, Morgan was trying to cross the police line, looking like a madman. I heard him yelling “That’s my team” before JJ walked over and explained to the police he was in fact an FBI agent and not a psycho. I couldn’t blame him, I would look the same if my family had been hurt. I know I did when it happened. You see red when they hurt someone you love.

- “Tell me you got something.”- Morgan demanded, fire in his eyes as he spoke to us.

- “A casing and a rifle up on the roof.”- Rossi explained in a single line everything we knew.

- “This guy isn't sloppy. He's sending us a message.”- JJ added, but really didn’t say anything new. I turned to Morgan and held his hand for a moment, giving it a small squeeze, trying to comfort him. He was hot, and anger was running through his body as adrenaline kept him going.

- “Garcia, we need to access the surveillance footage.”- Hotch said and Pen nodded immediately.

- “Of course. I'm on it.”- and off she went.

- “What else we got?”- Morgan asked, and none of us said a thing. ‘Cause of course, after fifteen minutes, we didn’t have much to add.

- “That's it right now.”- Rossi sighed and shook his head

- “Where were you and Savannah standing?”- Spencer asked, first ‘cause Morgan was the only witness we had, and even under the stressful conditions he was under, he had to tell us what he saw. And second, ‘cos we had to keep him busy or that man was going to go crazy.

- “We were standing right over there on the side of my truck. We were just talking. She was to the back and I was facing her. I was the vulnerable one. I was the easy shot.”- Morgan finished that sentence screaming.

- “How's Savannah?”- I whispered, trying to calm him down.

- “She's in surgery.”- our friend’s voice was cracking, just like his strength. I grabbed his arms and pushed him with me to start walking.

- “Come on, let's check in. Rossi, are you coming?”- David nodded and started walking along with us.

- “You guys got this?”- Morgan asked and looked at the team. Spencer nodded and looked at me for a moment. He confessed sometime later that all he could think of that minute was that if that was me in the hospital, shot, he’d kill whoever was responsible for hurting me. I never forgot it 'cause I kept thinking the same thing.

We checked in at the hospital, where Rossi did most of the talking, and then we sat in a waiting room on the second floor.

- “Metro PD's gonna secure all the windows and have an officer placed in front of Savannah's room 24/7.”- David explained as Morgan walked and nodded, like a zombie.

- “Thanks.”- he mumbled though I know he didn’t process what Rossi had just said.

- “I got us a conference room down the hall to work in, and I'm getting access to the security cams right now.”- Penelope announced as she walked into the room, nearly hyperventilating.

- “Great. You two need coffee?”- Rossi offered

- “I’m good.”- Garcia replied immediately

- “No. Thanks.”- Morgan nearly bit Rossi’s head off as he replied. I couldn’t blame him, though, he was under stress, and he was going to be a nasty asshole until he knew Savannah was safe. Rossi looked at me and asked.

- “No cream, no sugar?”

- “Thank you.”- I whispered and cut him a short smile as he walked out of the waiting room.

- “Tara's donating blood in case Savannah needs more. It turns out they're the same type.”- Pen added as Morgan continued pacing across the room.

- “I’m a universal donor. I’m gonna sign up to donate for her as well.”- I said and turned around to leave. I knew Morgan well enough to leave him be for a moment. Now that he was in the waiting room, pacing and with Garcia, I could be useful somewhere else.

I was still signing papers when I heard Morgan storm out of the waiting room, smashing a pile of paper towels in a cart he found on his way down the hall. The nurses winced and I sighed as I grabbed my phone and read my husband’s text. Hotch had taken Morgan officially off the case.

- “Is he ok?”- Spencer texted me.

- “Nope. Stormed out. I’m donating blood for Savannah.”- I quickly replied. A nurse asked me to follow her to another room and got me ready to

- “Looking at the footage with JJ in the conference room.”- my stomach tightened at the thought of him and JJ being alone. But we were at work, and doing something incredibly important and personal. There was no time for jealousy.

- “I’ll be there in a second.”- I replied and put my phone back into my pocket. The nurse asked me to raise my sleeve, and for a couple of minutes, all I could do was pray for Savannah’s health.

- “So if security footage has no angles of the shooting or the rooftop, where does that leave us?”- Rossi asked as we all stood around the table, trying to find something new to call a clue that might lead us to the shooter.

- “We're running facial recognition on everyone in and around the hospital to see if they match any loose ends from Morgan's abduction.”- JJ announced as I sipped on my coffee. Hotch walked into the room that second. It had taken him an extra fifteen minutes to get there after I was done donating blood, which only meant one thing: whatever Morgan had said to him, got to him.

- “How did he take it?”- Spencer asked what we all knew had happened. Hotch’d face didn’t move when he simply replied

- “As expected.”- and that was all we talked about our friend’s emotional tantrum.

- “Sir, I know that when Morgan was on leave after his abduction, you encouraged him to stay away from the case.”- Garcia started explaining what we had all done behind Hotch and Rossi’s back.

- “And let me guess, he didn't.”- David interrupted her, and we all shook our heads.

- “We all knew in our hearts it wasn't over, and, look, we were right, so in an extra-curricular kind of way we kept sleuthing to see who was working with John Bradley.”- Garcia explained and I looked at Rossi with a shy and almost innocent smile.

- “Everyone needs a hobby, right?”

- “You of all people here have enough going on in her end to add more to her table.”- Rossi argued and Spencer frowned.

- “I helped her.”

- “Getting her pregnant again isn’t helping.”- David joked, and Hotch ignored us as he started talking.

- “Before he came back to work, Morgan said that he'd found a connection between the men who held him at the cabin and the Montolo family.”- Hotch added, looking at Rossi, who seemed lost. Like he never saw coming the fact none of us was going to let Morgan’s kidnap go.

- “Right. So, basically, we're dealing with a big crime family tree, of which Bradley was certainly a branch. And the Montolos had hired him multiple times.”- Garcia added, simply explaining we were obsessed with his case.

- “Did you scan the drawing?”- I asked her and she nodded.

- “Yeah, it's right here.”- at those words, Spencer leaned closer to look at the screen with me.

- “So, has everyone been working on this?”- Rossie asked, surprised.

- “Yeah.”- I said not taking my eyes from the screen.

- “Basically.”- my husband supported me.

- “Kinda.”- Pen added with a shy/busted smile and then she started explaining what we had. - “Ok, with Morgan's research, plus our bad guys/gals tree here, we've cut all the legs off the evil table. So like look… you got assassin mother, father, siblings, all deceased, one aunt in therapy for family trauma, and each line is like that.”

- “Montolo's line's the shortest of them all.”- Spencer pointed out - “The only living child of Chazz and Rosemary Montolo. Rosemary died when Giuseppe was just a boy.”

- “When you thought your family was fucked up…”- I shook my head at my own words, trying to ease the mood ‘cos for the life of me, I can’t deal with so much gravity from time to time.

- “Right. And then Giuseppe went to live with his family in Italy, and Chazz went off to build a criminal empire.”- Pen added. Rossi walked to me and grabbed one of the files.

- “Looks like Chazz Montolo was killed last year.”

- “Yeah, in a bank fire in Germany. Got a positive I.D. On the dental and fingerprints.”- Pen even showed him the newspaper of the fire.

- “One week after his son was murdered. What if that's not a coincidence?”

- “So whoever poisoned the son also killed the father.”- JJ suggested, but I shook my head, reading Hotch’s mind.

- “Or he staged his own death so we wouldn't suspect him of this.”- I said and felt Spencer’s hand resting on my lower back as I spoke, supporting and comforting me.

- “Hey, wait, wait, wait.”- Pen suddenly freaked out and started typing as fast as she could- “I only ran facial recognition on living people for obvious reasons, but this guy right here, walking out of the hospital, this guy, that is… That's Chazz Montolo.”

- “Well done, ma cherie.”- Spencer whispered in my ear and I turned to smile at him for a fraction of a second. We were finally going somewhere.

- “Garcia, play the footage.”- Hotch asked, and a few seconds later, we were all able to watch Montolo senior walking out of the hospital.

- “Mother fucker.”- I whispered thinking that asshole had been there with us in the building.

- “Garcia, contact the city, get access to traffic cameras. Now that we know he's here, we can find out where he went.”- but her phone ringing freaked her out before she could do anything.

- “Oh, wait, Morgan's calling me. I told him I'd keep him in the know before I knew it was an order that he wasn't supposed to know.”

- “All right.”- Hotch sighed and looked at me and my husband. - “Reids, you talk to Morgan. JJ, you and Garcia track Montolo and find out who his accomplices are. He doesn't work alone. Dave, you and I will find potential witnesses who might have seen him on the property.”

And before we could even argue or plan what we were going to tell our friend, we were forced to move and face him.

- “Wait, wait.”- I grab my husband’s sleeve and stop him- “We should get him something.”

- “I don’t think he is hungry.”- Spencer raised an eyebrow as he stared at me.

- “Still. Maybe something to drink to warm him.”

- “You wanna stress him more by adding caffeine to his body?”- he questioned me.

- “Hot chocolate?”

- “He will throw it on our faces.”- Spencer was probably right, but he could read my worry.- “Green tea?”- I nodded and walked to the closest vending machine.

- “Raven must be so angry with us.”- I whispered as I pushed a few buttons on the machine, and a cup with some suspicious-looking tea appeared in front of our eyes.

- “I know.”

- “We are gonna have to deal with her when we get home.”

- “I know…”- Spencer sighed and rubbed his hands against his face, trying to rearrange his thoughts. - "I really can’t deal with that right now.”

- “I know, I’m sorry. I just can’t stop thinking about her and Vinny, and if any of this happened to them, or you.”

- “I understand, ma cherie. So much.”- Spencer moved a step closer and kissed the top of my head.- “But right now we have to focus on helping Morgan. Ok’”- I just nodded and grabbed the cup of tea.

- “Ok.”- I looked at my husband and took a deep breath. I know he was doing his best to keep his head cold and focus on the case- “Alright, let’s do this.”

Morgan was back in the waiting room. He kept pacing, still looking like a madman. But now he was an angry madman. Angry with us ‘cos he knew we were keeping things from him.

- “Were you with Garcia?”- he asked as soon as we walked in.

- “Yeah.”- I replied and tried to smile at him, to maybe calm him down, or make him feel less threatened- “Here, we brought you a green tea.”

- “It won't make you as jittery as coffee.”- Spencer offered the cup to our friend and he grabbed it, but not without reading every single movement the two of us made. It was annoying, Frank was right.

- “You came instead of Garcia because you know I'd be able to read her.”- Morgan didn’t ask, it was a fact.

- “That is correct.”- Spencer nodded and whispered.

- “And Hotch sent you both here to see if I'm stable.”

- “He didn't say that, but…”- my husband made a pause and I just sighed.

- “Let’s say we were the chosen ones ‘cos Hotch trusted we could read you, and if you were too angry at him, we wouldn’t take it personally in case you’d yell.”- I couldn’t lie to Morgan, so I didn’t. He nodded and didn’t even try to say he wouldn’t yell. It felt good to know we were above that bullshit.

- “I don't get jittery.”- of everything we said, that was what Morgan wanted to point out. Why? I don’t know. Maybe that was an insult in his mind. He moved to the other corner of the room and left the tea on a little table Food, he wasn’t going to throw it in our faces.

- “Usually you don't, but your carotid tells a different story.”- Spencer started rambling- “I've counted 10 heartbeats in the last 3 seconds. That's about 20% higher than your usual when you're under stress.”- his voice was soft and almost shaky. My husband was nervous and worried. Scared.

- “I know you're only trying to protect me, I get it, but knock it off.”- Morgan nearly yelled, annoyed with his speech- “I just want to know what you've learned.”

- “Seriously, Derek. You know we can’t tell you.”- I sighed and shook my head.- “So don’t take it with us. We are just trying to help.”

- “If you were trying to help you’d tell me what the hell is going on”

- “We are doing our fucking best. That’s what’s going on.”

I know we didn’t plan it, but Spencer and I were doing the old “good cop, bad cop routine.” And I was the bad cop. Again.

- “When you first told me about Savannah, I'd never seen you like that.”- my husband started talking and his voice was still soft and sweet, trying to keep it together. - “The decreased levels of central serotonin in your brain cause intrusive thinking. When I finally saw you guys together, that's when I knew for sure. Your pupils dilated, your posture changed, and I saw you involuntarily reach for her hand. Science confirmed it. You've found the one.”- Morgan stared at him, speechless. - “Do you believe that?”

- “Yes.”- Derek replied, not an inch of hesitation in his voice.

- “Then believe this. Our team loves you, and we are not going to stop until we find whoever did this. But we can only do that with a completely dispassionate and unprejudiced point of view. Paternal instinct is a deadly bias that we just can't risk. It's for your protection, Morgan, I swear.”

- “Ok.” - Derek answered coldly, though you could almost hear the cogs in his brain going a hundred miles an hour.

- “You would do it for us, wouldn’t you?”- I asked him, and Morgan raised both eyebrows- “If we were you and you were us, you would try to keep us away from the information. Try to keep us calm. We did it with Kate when her niece was taken. Hotch and JJ did it for us when he pretended Em was dead. We did it for Garcia when the Dirty Dozen was trying to kill her. We’ve all done it. ‘Cos that’s what families do, they protect each other.”

- “The unsub is a father, isn't he?”- Morgan ignored my speech and looked right into Spencer’s eyes.

- “Why do you say that?”- my husband lied between his teeth as Morgan analyzed every single one of our movements.

- “A paternal instinct is a deadly bias? Those were your exact words.”

- “I meant… we are both fathers…”- Spencer was nearly sweating and I didn’t know how to help him.

- “I know what you meant. But that's what you said.”- Morgan stared at us, and neither of us said another word. So he simply walked away from us.

- “Shit, shit, shit.”- Spencer whispered and closed his eyes.

- “It’s ok, honey. We both knew it wasn’t going to be easy. And we would be the same under these sick circumstances.”

- “I know, I just…”- Spencer bit his lips as tears filled his eyes.- “I wish there was more we could do. He doesn’t deserve this.”

- “Who does?”- I held his hand and gave it a soft squeeze.- “You did well. It’s just hard keeping things from a profiler.”

- “He is my brother. And someone hurt his unborn child and wife. And all I can do is tell him things will be ok.”

- “We can help him, but he has to trust us.”- my phone ended our conversation. It was my mom, which only meant one thing: Raven’s presentation was over. And she knew we weren’t there.

- “Hello?”- I whispered and closed my eyes.

- “Mama…”- it was worse than my mom. It was Raven.

- “Hey there, birdy. How was the recital? Did you have fun?”- Spencer moved closer and I put our daughter on speaker. - “I’m with your dad at work. We are both so sorry we couldn’t be there today, Raven.”

- “Emma says I don’t have a mom or a dad.”- Raven was crying, and my heart broke as soon as I heard her.

- “What? Why?”- I knew Emma, she was three and a half years old, but that night, I wanted to kill that brat. I’m not proud about it.

- “You are never there.”- Raven wept and all I managed to do was hold Spencer’s hand as I turned to him. His tears ran down his face as he tried to get himself together.

- “I’m so sorry, Birdy. But we have to get the bad guys.”- my voice shook at the end of the sentence.

- “Why is it always you? Why can't Uncle Derek do it?”

- “Oh, Birdy”- Spencer mumbled and took a deep breath, trying to get himself together.- “We are helping Uncle Morgan right now get the bad guys.”

- “I just wanted to sing for you.”- Raven kept sobbing. - “Why don’t you love me?”

- “Raven Marie, we love you so much.”- I managed to say before I broke into tears. I hid my face in Spencer’s chest as he continued talking.

- “Your mom and I are very sorry we couldn’t be there today. We promise we’ll make it up to you.”- Raven didn’t reply, instead we heard my mother’s voice on the other side of the line.

- “I’m sorry kids. She wanted to talk to you.”

- “Thank you for taking care of her, Sofia.”- Spencer managed to say. I know he was trying to be strong, but honestly, both our hearts were broken.

- “Frank and Milkey came along. We are having ice cream and then I’m gonna take her home.”

- “We’ll pick her up as soon as we are done here.”- Spencer added.

- “Take care, kids. I know you are doing the best you can. And she will see that when she is old enough.”

- “Thank you, mom.”- I whispered and tried not to sob too hard.- “We’ll call you later, ok?”

- “Sure, peanut. Love you.”- I couldn’t talk anymore. I just broke into tears one more time as Spencer hung up and placed the phone in my pocket.

- “It’s ok, ma cherié”

- “It’s not ok. This is what I always hated about my dad’s job. This is what I swore to myself at ten years old I was never going to put my babies through!”- I sobbed against his sweater, feeling like the worst mother on earth. The sound of Raven’s cries on the other side of the phone had been way too much for me to deal with, especially considering what was going on.

- “This is wrong.”- I murmured and tried to put myself together. - “We don’t have time for this now. Derek needs us.”

- “It’s gonna be ok.” Spencer whispered as he wrapped his arms around me tightly. - “We are not going to miss any more recitals. And she is going to forgive us. She knows we are doing this to help other people.”

- “Spencer, she is about to be four, she doesn’t have to understand this. She needs her dad and mom.”- my husband kissed the top of my head and sighed.

Spencer’s point of view

The night Morgan became a dad was the night I understood he was going to leave us. My wife had pointed it out a few times before that, trying to prepare me for that moment, but I didn’t want to believe it. I thought we were going to be a team forever. But he had a new team. One that was more important than anything else.

It made me feel I was a lousy father for a moment. He was quitting to make sure his wife and kid were alright. It was something I had thought of many times until that day, but I had never found the guts to do it. I couldn’t blame him, though. He had been through hell and back.

Meanwhile, I kept overanalyzing everything that had happened that day, hell was waiting for us when we picked up our kids from Sofia’s house. Raven had refused to sleep and also refused to talk to us. Vinny was fast asleep when (Y/N)held him in her arms and kissed his forehead. Sofia offered us something to eat, but we just wanted to get home and get some rest. It had been an eternal day, and seeing our daughter’s teary eyes and hardened face made it even worse.

- “I don’t wanna.”- she argued right away as I tried to pick her up. Raven kept fidgeting every time my hands tried to reach her.

- “Come on, baby. We have to go home. Don’t you wanna go to bed? We can have a special breakfast tomorrow.”- I offered her, but she hid behind Sofia and started whimpering.

- “No! I don’t love you!”

- “Birdy, you don’t mean that.”- I whispered as I knelt closer to her. She stayed behind Sofia’s legs and refused to even look at me. Her eyes were filled with tears and I could see her struggling to both stay awake and not to cry. It was heartbreaking.

- “Raven Marie, we talked about this.”- Sofia moved and took my daughter in her arms carefully.- “Your mom and dad had to work tonight and they couldn’t go to your recital, but they still love you very much.”

But our daughter ignored my words, (Y/N)’s words, and her grandma’s words. Instead, she decided to give us the silent treatment and ignore us all the way back home.

(Y/N)made us some tea after she put Vinny in his crib, and I was struggling with Raven’s bedtime. She didn’t speak but refused to brush her teeth and put on her pajamas.

- “Birdy, I know you are upset. And you have all the right to be mad at me and your mom.”- I whispered as I sat on her bed and put my hands on her shoulders, trying to make sure she was paying me attention.- “But you have to know your momma and I were helping Uncle Derek. No one is more important than you, but when someone needs our help, we can’t turn our back on them.”

Raven refused to look at me, but at least she got into bed. I read her a short bedtime story, kissed her cheek, and wished her a good night before I left the room.

- “How is she?”- my wife asked as I walked into our room. She was already in bed, sipping her lavender tea.

- “Still angry.”- I untied my tie, left it on a chair, and unbuttoned my shirt before falling on our bed.- “She didn’t say a word.”

- “And she is just three… I don’t wanna think of our lives when our girl is a teenager.”- (Y/N)cut me a short mile, but it was clear she was trying to make lights off of what was happening.

- “I’m glad we still have a few more years until then, ma cheriè.”

We both stayed quiet for a moment. I grabbed the cup of herbal tea my wife had left on my bedside table and took a long sip.

- “Am I a bad mother?”- her whisper broke the silence and made me whip my head immediately.

- “You are not. Of course, you are not.”- I held her hand and kissed it, as tears fell from her cheeks.

- “We broke her heart, and she is three years old.”

- “She will forgive us.”

- “But how do I forgive myself?”- my wife broke into tears and I wrapped my arms around her, sitting her on my lap. I wanted to be strong for her, I wanted to find the right words to make her feel better. But I had nothing, ‘cos honestly, I was feeling very low.

- “Maybe we should quit.”- it was the first time one of us had said it out loud. I froze at her words. I didn’t see it coming. But my wife had been brave enough to say the words that had haunted my mind so many times.

- “Quit?”- I asked, half shocked, half confused. - “Morgan is gonna leave, what will do the team without us?”

- “What will our kids do without us?”

And I didn’t know what to reply to that.

- “Mommy…”- Raven’s voice ended that conversation, or the start of it. She stood at our door holding the stuffed unicorn Mikey had given her.

- “What is it, birdy?”- (Y/N)asked, sitting on our bed, whipping the tears from her face quickly.- “Did you have a bad dream?”

Raven shook her head as she walked slowly toward the bed. Her big brown eyes were filled with tears, and she kept biting her lower lip, the same way her mother always does when she is nervous.

- “Do you wanna sleep with us tonight, birdy?”- (Y/N)whispered and tapped on the bed. Our daughter nodded but didn’t move from the spot she was standing at. My wife stood up and took a few steps until she stood in front of Raven, kneeled, and opened her arms to our daughter, who nearly ran to her and wrapped her arms around her neck, sobbing.

- “I’m sorry mommy”

- “It’s ok, baby. I’m sorry too.”

It was such a moving scene tears fell from my eyes as I stared at my wife and daughter hugging as they lay on our bed. I scooted closer to them and wrapped an arm around them, kissing Raven’s cheek and (Y/N)’s temple.

- “Your mommy and I love you so much.”- I whispered and watched our daughter sob a few times before she fell asleep on (Y/N)’s warm chest.

Neither of us said another word after that. We just laid with her on our bed, Vinny sleeping peacefully on his crib near us. I wanted to put a bubble around us all and never let anything hurt us.

I didn’t know it back then, but the only way I could do that was by quitting the BAU.

The following week, Morgan came back to the BAU for the last time. We all knew he was leaving, Hotch had told us. But it was still hard for all of us to deal with what it meant losing him in our team. In our daily basics.

When we walked to the bullpen’s door, I saw Morgan hugging JJ and I knew what was happening next. I knew he was there to say goodbye. It was going to be our last time there, and I didn’t feel I was ready to face it. So I left (Y/N)standing there alone and ran away to the meeting room.

Chicken much? Yeah, I know. But everyone knows I am not a fan of changes, and that day was especially hard for me. I was losing my brother. It wasn’t just another profiler leaving. It was my best friend we were talking about. And I was happy for him, of course I was. He got everything he ever wanted. It was just hard dealing with the guilt of not being as brave as him and doing the same for my family.

But of course, I wasn’t ready to deal with that truth just yet.

- “I know you hate goodbyes kid. And change.”- Morgan found me and walked into the room, facing the issue upfront. I wasn’t expecting anything less from him. I turned to face him, my eyes already filling with tears, and he cut me a warm smile, knowing how hard it was for me.

- “Hey. It isn't always a bad thing.”- he added- “And you’ve been getting better at dealing with changes. At least with changing diapers.”- I chuckle at those words. I liked the fact we could keep that conversation closer to the fun side because it was too painful to deal with.

- “You are gonna be better.”- I whispered and he smiled.

- “Only ‘cos I learned from the best.”- Morgan added and we both stayed in silence for a few seconds. Everything about saying goodbye to my best friend hurt. So I sighed loudly and finally accepted the truth.

- “I just can't imagine this room without you.”

- “So don't. Don't think about it.”- Morgan quickly answered, still smiling. - “Just know I'm always gonna be by your side. I'm just a phone call away.”

- “I know. Raven won’t let you go either. She loves Sunday brunch with you and Savannah.”- we both smiled for a moment, but tears quickly threatened to fall again.

- “I'm sorry I can't stay.”- Morgan apologized and I shook my head right away.

- “I don't want you to stay.”- I quickly replied thinking I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay either, but I also wasn’t ready to deal with that just yet.- “Because I know why you're leaving and I couldn't be happier for you.”- I simply looked at him with a smile, because I honestly didn’t want him to feel guilty about leaving. Still, his eyes watered up as he took a step closer and grabbed something from his back pocket

- “Listen, we were gonna mail these, but I wanted you to have a birth announcement first.”- he opened the envelope and handed the announcement. I didn’t know what to say or how to react to it. So I just read it out loud, feeling a knot in my throat.

- “Hank Spencer Morgan.”- my voice broke as I stared at the picture of baby Hank in my hands. I couldn’t stop smiling as I looked at it. It was the sweetest gesture. It was more than I deserved. My best friend had named his baby after me. What had I done in life to deserve that much love from him?

- “Yeah. Hank is for my pops. But Spencer is for the best little brother anybody could ever ask for.”- his words were too much, and before I knew it I was sobbing. Morgan wrapped his arms around me and tapped on my back as he whispered.

- “I love you, kid.”

- “I love you.”- I replied knowing he was doing the right thing. It was just too painful to deal with how it felt at the moment. But it was meant to happen.

- “So, look, my little dude, he's gonna need a favorite uncle. To teach him everything he knows about life. And chess.”- Morgan chuckled at his words and I nodded smiling.

- “I can do that.”

- “I know you can.”

- “Which reminds me, I’m gonna need you to teach me how to play soccer, so I can teach Vinny eventually.”- my answer made him laugh.

It was comforting knowing Morgan was leaving the team, but he wasn’t leaving my life. That was a big change. We weren’t going to stop meeting, he wasn’t walking out of my life. He was just taking a step back from work and focusing on his family. The

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[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Sophia is very specifically Sicilian and a rural village girl so it's actually logical she would struggle to understand some Standard Italian! Sicilian is its own language and Sicilian Italian is its own regional dialect. I'm 95% the writers weren't thinking of this but it actually makes sense.

Anon, you anticipated me! That’s exactly my hypothesis on why Sophia doesn’t speak proper Italian. In some parts of Italy (especially in the South, or in rural regions) people still speak their dialect before they speak Italian, and prefer their local dialect to Italian in their everyday life. Nowadays everyone learns proper Italian in school, but especially back when Sophia lived in Sicily, she definitely would have spoken in her local dialect only!

Interestingly enough, though, most of the “Italian” expressions she uses aren’t actually Italian nor Sicilian in origin (or, when they are, they’re used incorrectly — see using the word abbondanza as an insult). I think this is where her status as an immigrant comes into play: I have to suppose those words and expressions are part of the (Brooklyn) Italian-American vernacular, and considering she’s been speaking that vernacular for most of her life, it’s not surprising that she defaults to it. I’m afraid I don’t know enough about Italian-American slang to properly verify that, though!

[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!!

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[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

[obsesssedblerd]

Part Four (2): “I promise, I’ll make this right.” 

- the jjk men promising to be a better partner for you after they forget your anniversary. 

final [second] written part of this smau series. 

Pt. 2: Choso, Shiu, and Gojo

Contains: angst to comfort 

a/n: and here’s the last, last part with the remaining characters! again, thank you so much for being so patient! <3 once again, sorry for any mistakes! 

---

CHOSO 

Truthfully, you didn’t know if you were actually ready to confront Choso, but you know that it’s time. You stand in front of the door to his house, and knock. You wait for less than a minute, then the door opens to reveal Yuuji on the other side, rubbing his tired eyes. His pink hair was messy, so you know that he woke up from a nap not too long ago. 

When he registers that it’s you, he gasps loudly, then holds up a hand and smiles nervously. “H-Hi! Um, wait just a minute, I’ll grab him! Please don’t leave this spot.” 

“I won’t leave, Yuuji.” 

His smile falters a bit. “No, seriously, please don’t. Me, Cho, and Megumi couldn’t find you for days.”

You place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I promise,” you say slowly, “I won’t leave.” 

“Good. Be right back.” He gives you a thumbs up, closes the door, and you hear him scream from behind it, “Choso!! CHOSO!!! She’s outside, so stop blasting your sad music and get down these damn stairs!! No, I’m not kidding, why would I do that?!” 

You blink in shock, then Yuuji opens the door once more to smile sweetly at you. “He’ll be out in just a moment.” 

“Uh- Alright, thanks.” 

Not too long after, Choso appears. You can immediately tell that he hasn’t been sleeping much the last few days. Other than that, he looks relieved to see you there. He reaches towards you to hug you, then stops himself, remembering the situation. “Hi,” he quietly greets. 

“Hi. Walk with me?” He nods, and you two walk side-by-side to a nearby park. You let the silence drag for only a few minutes before you ask him the question that’s been weighing on you for the last couple of days. 

“Be honest. Before we got together, did you want to date Yuki at one point?” 

Are you only with me because you weren’t able to get with her? 

Choso stops in his tracks, and looks over at you, eyes blown wide with shock. “No. Never. We’re just friends, like I’ve told you before. I know it seems like-” 

You hold up a hand. “Cho, please just understand where I’m coming from. The-” 

“I do understand,” he says desperately, taking a step closer to you. “Of course I do. That's all I’ve been thinking about. I chose to hang out with her instead of you, numerous times. It’s unfair to you, I know, but I swear-”

“I feel like you love her.” Your biggest fear of your relationship flies out your mouth, and tears rush to your eyes, spilling down your cheeks. “Every single time, it’s her. It feels like it won’t matter how special something is—like our anniversary—because you’ll run to her the second she asks you to hang out and completely forget about me.” You take a breath and exhale slowly, trying not to make yourself look even more pathetic. “I’m tired, Cho.” 

“Listen to me. I do not love Yuki,” Choso says slowly. “Not now, not in secret, not ever. I am in love with you. You’re the one I want to wake up next to every morning, you’re the only one I trust when it comes to helping my siblings, and you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He scoops your hand into his. “There’s no way in hell that I would choose her or any other woman over you, so I’m begging you, please get that out of your head.”

Before you can use a sleeve to wipe your tears, he wipes them for you, then uses his hand to cup your cheek. “I’m so sorry for hurting you. You spent so long planning the dinner for our anniversary and I completely forgot about it like it was nothing. I wish I could go back in time, but I can’t. All I can do is beg for another chance to be a better boyfriend. So, please, let me have another chance.”

You notice that his eyes are also watery. You’re about to point it out, but he hugs you tightly before you can, his body slightly trembling. “These last few days have been killing me, because I’ve messed up so bad to the point where you think I’m in love with another woman, when you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my  life. I don’t want anyone but you. I could never choose anyone over you. I don’t care who they are.” 

He rubs a comforting hand up and down your back. “Please,” he repeats once more. 

“Never again, Choso,” you mutter shakily. “I mean it.” 

He sighs in relief, then kisses you. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Walk back with me? I have your present back at the house. Then, we can plan another dinner, and something special after that.” 

---

SHIU

When you enter the hotel room, you see Shiu Kong there, leaning in the chair with a light, but nervous smile. “Hey, princess.” 

The door shuts, and you furrow your brows in confusion. “How the fuck did you get in here?” 

“Well, you weren’t answering your phone anymore, so I found a different way to track you.”

Your brain whirrs with multiple possible scenarios, then you roll your eyes when you figure it out. “You asked Toji, didn’t you?” Your work partner was the only one who knew your location.

“I had to blackmail him in order to find out where you were. It wasn’t easy.” 

You give him a fake smile. “Well, I don’t really care about that. You should leave.” 

“No.” 

“Shiu. Don’t piss me off,” you warn. “Go.”

“Not until we talk.” 

You cross your arms. “It’s either you leave, or I will handle you the same way I’d handle any person that comes into my room without my knowledge or permission.”

Shiu holds his hands up. “I’ll let you shoot me after I apologize.” 

“You’ve already apologized plenty over text. I already told you that I’m done. I’m better off focusing on work, and you’re better off just hanging out with your friends.” 

“Can you stop saying that shit? Baby, please, I swear that missing our anniversary dinner was a horrible mistake, and I’ll never make it again if you give me another chance.” When you don’t answer, he sighs desperately, taking a chance with his life and walking over to where you’re standing. “I’m sorry, princess. I completely understand why you’re pissed, and like I said, I’d let you shoot me if it’ll make you feel better. However, I will say that I can’t let you go. I love you.” 

You shut your eyes and shake your head. “Look, that’s sweet and all, but I don’t think you understand how awful it is knowing that your boyfriend chose a random night of drinking with his friends over a romantic dinner that you spent weeks planning. It makes it hard to believe that you even like me, let alone love me.” 

“I understand why you’re doubting my feelings for you. Anyone would after their lover forgets their anniversary. But I promise, I do love you, and if you give me another chance, I’ll show you. I’ll make you feel it. Please give me a chance to fix this.” 

“...But what if you don’t?” 

“Then I’ll let you kill me, like you’ve killed your other boyfriend after he fucked up and broke your heart.” When you raise your brow in question, he answers you, “Toji told me about that when he warned me to leave you alone earlier. Not taking his side at all. Heard he was an asshole, anyway. But, I’m serious. If I don’t do better, and I hurt you again, I won’t run or fight back when you come to kill me.” 

“Shiu, I don’t want to kill you,” you say, slightly frustrated. “I just want you to care more.” 

His thumb brushes underneath your eyes. You didn’t even know that you started crying. “I know, princess, ‘m so sorry. I promise, I’ll never make you cry again, and I’ll be better.” He’s relieved when you allow him to hug you. “Come home, okay? We’ll talk more there, and then I’ll start making this up to you.”

You nod, then rest your head on his shoulder. “You do know that Toji’s more than likely going to kick your ass for blackmailing him, right?” 

“You’re in my arms again, so it was worth it.”

---

GOJO

You’re speeding through the hallways of Jujutsu Tech, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. An hour ago, you got a text from Maki, your precious second-year student, telling you that something bad happened and that you need to come to the school quickly. 

“Maki, I’m here! Are you okay?!” You shout as you burst into the empty classroom. You find her, and you tilt your head in confusion. 

She looks fine. In fact, she’s standing next to a Yuuta Okkotsu, who looks like he’s about to vomit. “S-Sensei! I-” 

Maki cuts him off with her usual, sharp glare. “Not. A. Word.”

Inumaki and Panda are also there, and across the room, the three first years are standing stiffly. 

Something’s up. 

“Okay,” you say to the students as you cross your arms. “What on earth is going on?” 

Nobara looks over at Yuuji, who’s sweating nervously, and raises a brow. “Um… Haha,” he laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Don’t look at me like that, Kugisaki. H-He should be here any second, I swear!” 

He? 

Suddenly, Satoru Gojo teleports in. “What’s going on?” He asks as he looks over at the students. “I didn’t see a threat outside of the school. Yuuji said something bad happened?” 

“Great!” Nobara claps her hands together. “You’re both here!” 

Satoru goes quiet, and you raise an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah?” 

Maki points to you and Satoru. “You two need to talk.” 

“...Sorry?” 

“You two need to talk!” Nobara repeats Maki’s words. “Listen, we can’t stand having our two favorite teachers separated like this. [Y/L/N]-sensei has been gone for days!” 

“Plus, Gojo-sensei, you’ve been super stressed!” Yuuji shouts in defense. “Fushiguro says that you eat a lot more sweets when you’re stressed. You ate two packs of those mini cupcakes, plus the brownie that Nanamin gave me!” 

When Satoru looks over at Yuuta, he throws his hands up. “No, no, please don’t look at me like that! I voted against this! I said that w-we should probably give you two some space to figure it-” Inumaki slaps a hand over his mouth. 

“We’re just… worried,” Megumi mumbles. 

“Yup!” Panda shouts. “Very worried, and that’s why we came up with a plan to get you two back on track. We’re going to lock you two in this room, and you’re not coming out until you’re happy and in love again!” 

“Because you two are supposed to be together forever and get married and invite us to the wedding!” Yuuji pouts, and the rest of the students voice their agreements. 

You can’t believe it. They set you up. Your mouth falls open in shock, and the students all walk outside of the classroom. Maki and Nobara are the last ones out, and they both glare at Satoru. “Geto-sensei said that you missed your anniversary dinner,” Nobara hisses. “You better give her the most amazing, romantic and extravagant dinner after this, or we will deal with you!” 

Behind Nobara, Yuuta chuckles nervously. “...Pretty sure that you won’t be able to get past his infinity-” 

“Shut up, Okkotsu!” The rest of the students shout, then the door shuts and locks with a loud click. You drag a hand down your face, then scoff. Great.

“Wow, they’re really something,” Satoru chuckles, but when you don’t say anything, he turns to face you, his expression serious, even with his usual blindfold on. “Say the word, and I’ll teleport you out of here. Then, I’ll talk to them.” 

“No, it’s okay,” you say quietly as you sit in one of the empty chairs. “We can talk.” 

As you look around the classroom, a few memories from the year before came back. “Wait, this is the classroom where we met, isn’t it?” 

“Looks like it,” Satoru says as he leans against the wall, smiling softly. “Zen’in, Panda, Inumaki, and Okkotsu were first years. You were standing right here. Your first day as a transfer, and you were already teaching these kids as professionals.” 

“Yeah.” You stifle a laugh. “You stayed for the entire lesson, even though you had a meeting with the higher-ups. Suguru and Yaga had to practically drag you out of here so you wouldn’t spend another hour flirting.” 

“They were pissed, but it was worth it. Our newest team member is just so pretty,” he says, then reaches for your hand, your thumb lovingly brushing against yours as his voice dips lower. “The most beautiful woman that my six eyes have ever seen.” 

It’s a nice memory, but when you remember everything else, your smile falters. Satoru sighs, “I’m so sorry, pretty girl. Not just forgetting the annivesary dinner that you planned, but also for leaving you hanging. I don’t blame you for disappearing for a few days. If I were in your shoes, I would’ve been upset, too. I really don’t have an excuse. That was just… wrong.” 

“I appreciate that, Toru, but… are you sure that this even works? All of the chasing, the begging to spend just a few hours together, it’s draining. I know you’re the strongest sorcerer-” 

“You matter more than that,” he says firmly. “So much more than that. If it came down to choosing between you or being the strongest, I’m choosing you in an instant. I meant it when I said that I’d let Toji Fushiguro kill me again before letting you go.” You wince when you remember the gruesome details of that story, but don’t interrupt. “I made a horrible mistake by forgetting that date. I can’t imagine how awful it was sitting at the restaurant all alone. I’m so sorry. I don’t care how long it’ll take to make this up, I’ll prove that you mean the world to me.” 

You consider his words. While you’re still a bit hurt about being forgotten, you miss your boyfriend, and you do believe that he’ll make it up to you, despite you being a bit hesitant. “One more chance, Satoru,” you tell him. “Don’t ever do this to me again.” 

“I won’t. I promise,” he says, lifting his blindfold to reveal the gorgeous, cerulean eyes that you love so much. “You won’t regret this.” When you reach for him, he lowers his infinity fully to let you hug him, a long exhale leaving your body when you’re suddenly wrapped in his arms and his scent. “I missed you,” he whispers to you. “I was so worried. I couldn’t find you.”

“Didn’t mean to worry you.” 

He kisses your cheek, then pulls away from you. “Okay, time to go.” 

“Go where?” 

Satoru chuckles. “I owe you an amazing, romantic, and extravagant dinner, otherwise my students will find a way to kill me. Plus, we’re going to be disappearing for a while. I got a trip planned. Flight leaves early in the morning.”

You gasp. “What?! But what about work? Or the students? Or the-” 

He interrupts you with a feather-light kiss against your lips. “All taken care of, pretty girl,” he purrs. “Just let me make this up to you, okay?” 

“Alright, but first you need to apologize to the students for wreaking havoc while you were stressed, and buy Yuuji a new brownie.” 

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part four)

series masterlist & main masterlist

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes, fighting (verbal).

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: I don’t have much to say other than enjoy! Please leave your thoughts and opinions in the comments or message me! I’d love to hear what you have to say <3

part four: friends for now?

Hugh let you drag him through the club by your intertwined hands. The crowd seemed to be never ending as you walked through, trying to make it to the bar. A few people stopped you along the way to congratulate you and give their praises, but the night no longer felt special. It didn’t even feel like these people were here for you. They were just strangers attending a random party. Most of them already way past tipsy and probably wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. When the bar was in sight, you did a quick scan of the area. In the right corner, you saw a small, tall table that had two tall stools, perfect. 

“Heyyy y/n! I’ve been looking for you!” Ashley yells over the music with a big smile on her face. You don’t miss the way she glances back at Hugh. “Where have you been?” She asks and you can hear the accusation that’s hidden behind her words. Hugh squeezes your hand and it makes you realize just how close he is to you, the front of his body a whisper away from touching the back of yours. “I’ve been making the rounds. I was looking for you but kept getting stopped along the way.” You’re yelling back at her, trying to sound alive and bubbly by letting a laugh out at the end. You weren’t sure if she bought it. Ashley gives you a look that tells you she doesn’t. “We were gonna grab a drink, you wanna come?” You offer her but she shakes her head. “No, I have one over there.” She points to a group of girls sitting at a larger table that sits on the left side of the bar. “I’ll see you later okay?” She leans to give you a quick hug and she notices the point of contact between Hugh and yourself. “Don’t be stupid y/n.” She whispers in your ear and leans back from the hug with a smile. “Love you!” She’s yelling this time as she walks away. Her comment made your chest burn. You could tell that she thought something more was happening between Hugh and yourself but he saved you. He helped you get away from Pedro and she had no right to be accusatory. 

This night kept getting worse, the only thing keeping you from going home and leaving your own party was the warmth of Hugh’s hand. The warmth suddenly vanished, Hugh letting go of your hand for the first time since he helped you off of the couch in the backroom. He pulled back one of the stools for you and offered his arm to hold as you climbed up to sit. Your foot faltered slightly, causing your leg to buckle, but Hugh was quick to grab your waist to stabilize you. “Thank you.” You say again. 

“Do you want a drink?” He asks julting his thumb towards the bar behind him. 

“Oh! I'll take a pop my cherry margarita please.” You smile, voice full of excitement. Hugh lets out that rich man laugh that you haven't heard since the day you met him. 

“A WHAT?” He’s still laughing, it’s so contagious that your own laughter slips past your lips unexpectedly. 

“Pop my cherry margarita. It’s a real thing!” You explained to him that you wanted to create a drink menu that matched the album song titles. It was the one detail you really had a say in. “I thought they were handing out pamphlets at the door that explained that. Did you not get one?” Hugh’s eyebrows furrowed but they relax just as fast as he pulled a folded up pamphlet from his back pocket. You gasp dramatically. 

“You didn’t read it?” Your voice held a joking tone but you couldn’t help but feel a ping of hurt within your chest at the thought of him not taking the time to at least skim over the silly little paper. 

“I was looking for you when I first got here.” He admits shyly, an emotion you didn’t know Hugh was capable of having. He was always so confident and loud, never shy. It was cute. 

“Well in that case, you are forgiven.” His words made your heart swell. 

“I’ll be right back.” He gives your shoulder a light squeeze and walks over to the bar. 

Taking a look around the room, you’re glad that people are enjoying themselves. Your album only has three more songs to play before you’d have to go back on stage to give your thanks again. The club was booked all night, meaning that everyone was welcome to stay until it closes at two am. You didn’t plan to stay that late and after the events of the night, you weren’t sure if you’d stay any longer than your second ‘speech’. You glance back over to Hugh. He’s leaning on the counter, making conversation with the bartender. He was so charismatic, easily falling into conversation with anyone he met. You were certain that there wasn’t a person in the world that disliked him, he was the definition of likable. The reality of the situation was starting to settle more clearly now that your mind wasn’t clouded by the brief altercation with Pedro. Hugh hadn’t left your side since the moment he found you, he helped you collect yourself, and now he was ordering you a drink. You weren’t sure what this meant for him- you knew exactly what it meant for you. All of his acts of kindness were starting to overfill the file in your head labeled ‘big fat crush on Hugh Jackman’. 

“Here you are, one pop my cherry margarita.” He slides the glass in front of you and sits in the stool across from you. The drink is a bright red with a silver shimmer throughout. Two cherries sat on the top of the ice with a lime hugging the sugar lined rim. You took a sip, the tequila a little too strong for your liking, but the sweetness of the cherry and the slight hint of lime was refreshing.  “Mhmm that’s good. What'd you get?” You ask while squinting at his drink. “Slut me out martini?” He says unsure. You laugh. “Hm. Slut me out is probably my favorite song off the album, a good ‘ol dirty martini fits the vibe of the song.” He takes a sip and nods. “Hey.” You say to catch his attention again. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to actually listen to the album. You’re probably disappointed, given you’re such a big fan and all.” You’re mostly joking, the only sincerity being behind the fact he didn’t get to do what he came here to do. What you invited him here for. “Stop apologizing sweetheart.” He grunts out giving you a pointed look. 

“I did hear the first few songs, they were really good.” He says, taking a sip of his martini. 

“Just good?” You question. It looks like he thinks for a moment before speaking. 

“They’re surprising.” He says slowly. “How so?” You’re quick to respond. 

“Just… didn’t expect it. It’s different from your other stuff, it’s seductive.” 

“Hm..are you seduced?” His eyes lock onto yours. Your tongue darts out to pull the straw that sits in your glass to your lips. You can see his eyes move down towards your lips as you suck on the straw. When his eyes match yours again, he’s repositioning himself on the stool and lets out a low chuckle. “You’re something else y/n.” He shakes his head and you hum in satisfaction. 

You glance over to the dancing crowd, eyes moving over the groups of people. You meet Stacy’s eyes and you can hear the buzz of the last song fill your ears. She started making her way towards you, disappearing every few seconds as she weaved through people. “Shit.” You mumble as you try to think of ways to get out of getting on stage and thanking everyone again. “What’s wrong?” Hugh’s voice was filled with concern, the same tone he had used earlier in the night. “Stacy..my uh.. my assistant, I guess, is making her way over here right now and I like really, really don’t wanna go up on that stage again.” You frown. You were being stubborn, you knew that. The smart side of your brain tried to tell you that it wasn’t professional to just leave your own event. 

“C’mon.” Hugh is standing up quickly, offering his hand once again. “Huh?” You asked him, confusion written all over your face. “I’m getting you out of here. Let’s go.” You look around the room one last time. Stacy is about ten feet away, stress present on her face. “Okay.” You grab his hand and he helps you down, his other hand instinctively meeting your waist. “Y/n! I needed you on the stage like three minutes ago!” Stacy yells across the lowering distance. Hugh tugs your hand and you follow. You’re trying your best to keep up with his long legs as he walks swiftly through everyone. He pushes open the door and flashing lights blind the both of you. Covering your face, you tried to block the paparazzi’s cameras, completely trusting Hugh to guide you through this all. Once you reach the small parking lot that sits on the left side of the building, Hugh is opening the passenger door for you and helps you in. He hurries over to the drivers side and drives off as fast as he can, escaping the leeches that are trying to take as many pictures as possible. “Oh my god, you’re literally a life saver.” You say, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Pulling out your phone from the small purse that’s been draped on your shoulder most of the night, you sent a quick text to Stacy, responding to the endless texts and calls you’ve received from her in the past five minutes. 

You: I’m sorry Stacypoo. I’ll explain later. Love you <33

You knew work Stacy would be mad at you for some time but once you explained everything, friend Stacy would understand. “Do you want me to take you home?” Hugh asks. “Yes please. I’m pooped.” You huff out and he chuckles. You connect your phone to the car bluetooth and set your address on the GPS. The silence in the car calmed your body down at a rapid rate. Exhaustion took over your body and you could feel the ache in your feet from the heels. You were only at the party for an hour, yet it felt like you had been there all night. Looking at the time, the clock read 11:30pm. Hugh was quiet and you were afraid you might have caused too much trouble for him. That he wouldn’t want to be around you again after this. “Thank you Hugh. Really, you totally made this night so much better.” Your head is leaning against the headrest and you roll it slightly to look over at him. The faint light coming from the street lights shined on his face dimly. He was so handsome. You wanted to tell him. “You don’t have to thank me. I enjoy your company.” He glances in your direction with a smile. The silence fills the space again.

 “Did you purposely wear a gray shirt to match my outfit?” You asked curiously. You meant to ask earlier but it slipped your mind. “What?” He’s smiling. “You heard me. Did you?” Your tone was teasing. “Maybe.” 

“Yes or no Hugh Jackman.” His name rolled off your tongue in a joking matter. You could've sworn you could see a slight blush but it was too dark in the car to tell. “Is this it?” He asks, pointing to your house. “Yea that’s me.” 

He pulls into the driveway and puts the car in park, cutting the engine. Hugh opens his car door to get out. “Oh! You don’t have to get out, it’s okay.” He ignores you, walking over to your side of the car anyways, closing the door once you’re out. You awkwardly walk up to your front door and search your purse for your keys. When you find them, you turn around to face Hugh. “Thank you for driving me home Hugh.” “No problem sweetheart.” He smiles warmly and you take a moment to take it in. Your eyes rake across every wrinkle in his face, showing the life he’s lived. His smile lines set deep into his cheeks and you can’t help but think how perfectly they suit him. His facial hair was just past a stubble but not quite filled out into his full beard yet. “I should get inside, don’t wanna keep you out any later.” Your voice is soft and you want to invite him in but you couldn’t. “Okay darling.” 

This crush on Hugh was something that felt deeper after tonight. If anything were to happen with him, you wanted it to be right. No rushing. The feeling was mature. Hugh was someone you didn’t want to lose, no matter how he fit into your life. It was a little scary to think about- how much you wanted him in your life. 

“Goodnight Hugh.” 

“Goodnight y/n.” 

You turn to unlock your door and just as you're twisting the handle, Hugh wraps his large hand around your arm. He gives you a small tug, urging you to turn around. “Y/n…” He speaks softly. “Yes?” He doesn’t say anything. “Hugh, are you okay?” His hand releases your arm, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks. His hands are rough. You can feel a few calluses along his hand, undoubtedly from the gym.  He’s searching your eyes but you're unsure what he’s trying to find. “Can I kiss you?” 

Oh. 

“Yes.” It’s barely audible, the only confirmation that he had heard you came from his lips meeting yours. The kiss was slow, soft, like he was afraid to move too much. Hugh’s lips melted into yours perfectly, dancing together in a rhythm that felt natural. He was bent down slightly to match your height, your heels aiding him. He was the one to break the kiss, you weren’t sure if you would have ever stopped kissing him if he didn’t pull away. You wanted to ask him so many questions, get into his head. You always had this impeding urge to know everything but you wanted to live in the sweetness of the moment. Hugh’s hands dropped from your cheeks and a small smile rested on his face. “Goodnight gorgeous.” He kisses the top of your head for the second time that night. “Goodnight..” You walked inside, standing half way out of the door, waving at Hugh as he drove away. 

You: text me when you get home so I know you got home safe! p.s. ur a good kisser.  

Walking around your house, you slowly stripped from your outfit, gathering your things to start your nightly routine as you waited for Hugh’s text. You hopped into the shower and thought about the crazy events that had happened in just a few hours. The kiss was something you hadn’t expected and it was killing you to not know what it meant for your relationship with Hugh. When you were brushing your teeth, your phone lit up on the bathroom counter. 

Hugh <3: Just got home. You’re not half bad yourself lol. 

You: really though, did you try to match my outfit? 

Hugh <3: Goodnight y/n… 

You: fine. I’ll get the truth out of you one day!! 

You: goodnight hugh! <3 

When your head hits the pillow, all you can do is think about the feeling of Hugh’s lips on yours, his hands on your face. You fell asleep with a smile on your face. 

—

The constant buzzing of your phone woke you up. It’s been going off for close to an hour and you tried your best to ignore it but the vibration under your pillow was starting to give you a headache. You winced at the brightness of the screen as your eyes adjusted to the light that invaded your eyeballs too suddenly. Squinting at the name, you let out a sigh. “Oh fuck me..” 

“Hi Stacy…” You say it sweetly, hoping it would ease whatever was coming your way. “Y/n, I need you to explain why the fuck you decided to run away from me last night.” Her voice is eerily calm, you’d prefer if she was yelling at you. “Oh yea…” You clear your throat. “So you know how when we started to plan the event, Pedro and I were still very much together?” You ask and she gives a short ‘yes’. “Well, when we had the last meeting, I completely forgot about him being invited already and forgot to take him off the list.” “Y/n, can you get to the point please, the label is on my ass right now trying to clear things up.” “Sorry…he uh.. Pedro showed up last night and he was mean Stacy. He kept saying how he wanted me back and he kept trying to grab me.” Your voice falters slightly. You couldn’t understand how Pedro, who was once so sweet and loving, had turned so cruel. “I’m so sorry y/n… I didn’t know, nobody knew.” You can hear the sympathy in her voice. “It’s fine, it’s over. I tried to stay, but I really wanted to leave. I’m sorry Stacy.” “It’s fine.” She sighs.

 “Have you been on your socials yet?” 

“No…why?” 

“Look at what I sent you.” 

You put her on speaker and open the text thread between Stacy and yourself. There were at least a hundred texts from her between last night and this morning. You click on a link she had sent and when you opened it, there was a picture from last night of Hugh and yourself leaving the party hand in hand. There were articles upon articles questioning if Hugh was your ‘new older fix’. There were also pictures of Pedro leaving the party with rumors of you cheating. It was all one big mess, but every single article seemed to agree on one thing:

Y/n L/n was a slut who liked older men. 

They weren’t completely wrong, you loved being with an older man, but you weren’t a slut, or a cheater, or a gold digger, or any other names they had called you. The rumors and name calling never bothered you but it always had a negative effect on the men in your life, even if they never got the shit end of the stick. It was why Pedro broke up with you and why everyone before him never wanted to make anything official, or even be seen with you. You felt so stupid for not telling Hugh that you needed to go out the back way, that he shouldn’t be seen leaving with you. Your dating life brought nothing but a bad reputation and you didn't want Hugh’s name involved in it. You're thankful that this article was centered on dragging you down and not Hugh. 

“Shit..” You whisper. “How mad are they?” You ask, referring to your management team. 

“They’re pretty pissed off. They keep nagging about how they warned you with Pedro. They’re worried about your image.” 

“God, I wish they would get over that already. It’s literally not that big of a deal.” Your irritation grew. It had always been something you hated about the industry, that they cared so much about minor personal details. As long as you were making music, making fans happy, and making them money- why does it matter who you’re seen with. You hated how much everyone ‘cared’ about what you did. 

“I know y/n, it sucks. I’ll try to get them calmed down and prevent any unnecessary meetings. I want you to focus on whatever you need to. Don’t stress yourself out about this.” “Thank you Stacy. I really am sorry if I got you into trouble last night.” 

“It’s okay. I understand why you did it and I’m glad you did something for yourself for once.” 

The rest of the conversation is short and ends with Stacy complaining about Mark, the guy from the meeting, was blowing up her phone. 

You needed to talk to Hugh as soon as possible. There were so many things that needed to be discussed: the paparazzi pictures, the kiss, what we are, can he handle being your controversially old boyfriend- if that’s even what he wanted. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had already seen the headlines, if his team was just as mad as yours. 

You: hi hugh! could we meet up and talk sometime today? 

Hugh <3: Of course darling. Just tell me a time and place and I'll be there. 

You: 3pm at my house? 

Hugh <3: See you then. 😀

The emoji he attached made you laugh, Hugh texted like your parents and it should make you cringe but it does the exact opposite. You sent him your address, not expecting him to remember where you live, and started to prepare for his visit. You had a few hours before the agreed upon time, allowing you to clean up around your house and get presentable. Not wanting to go overboard, you decided on a pair of black flared leggings and a dark green crew neck that had ‘New York’ across the chest. You could feel your nerves working up as the time ticked away, each minute that went by increasing your heart rate. You were sitting on the couch, when there was a knock on your door. Taking a peek through the peephole, you could see Hugh standing there. You opened the door wide and gave him a tender smile. “Hi sweetheart.” He greets you with his own warm smile. “Hi Hugh. Come in.”  You open the door wider and he slips past you, waiting for you to close the door. “You can take your shoes off here if you want, but you don't have to.” He slides them off and you lead him into the living room. You take a seat on the couch, smacking the cushion next to you with your hand, urging him to take a seat as well- he does. You don’t speak right away, trying to find the right words to say, what to talk about first. “You okay y/n?” His expression is full of worry.

“Have you seen the pictures or anything about last night?” 

“No…?” You can tell he’s confused and you don’t say anything. Instead, you open your phone to the link Stacy sent and hand it to him. His eyes are moving back and forth slowly as he reads and scrolls through it. When he's done, he hands the phone back to you and sighs. “This is what you wanted to talk about?” He asks. “Yea…and other things.” 

He sighs. “Y/n, I already told you I don’t care what other people say. I don’t think what these people are saying about us should matter.” 

“I don’t want to drag you into this mess though, Hugh. It’s not fair to you, especially when everything they’re saying are lies.” 

“That’s just the way those people make a living. It won’t matter in a week, everyone will forget and move on, so don’t worry about me baby, worry about yourself. They said some nasty things in there, don’t let that get to your head kid?” His hand rests on your thigh and scrunch up your face at the nickname. 

“Hugh, for moral reasons, you can’t call me kid when you kissed me just last night. It's weird.” Your voice switching from the previous unsure and scared to serious. He lets out a laugh and a quick sorry. His hand still rests on your thigh and you reach out to place your hand on his, fingers slightly intertwining at the awkward angle. “Why did you kiss me last night?” Your doe like eyes look up at him. “I wanted to.” His answer is too brief for your liking and you can tell he’s teasing. “Why did you want to?” You ask further. “You looked really pretty in your sparkly little outfit last night sweetheart. You always look really pretty, truthfully. There’s just something about you that draws me to you.” He confesses. “Yea?”  ���Yea…It’s a little scary if i’m being honest, how drawn to you I am.” “I’m scared too, Hugh.” You admit. “I’m terrified that whatever this is or whatever it leads to is going to get taken away from me.” Your willingness to be this open shocks you, but this needs to be done right. You would put your fears behind you for him. He squeezes your hand. “What do you mean?” 

“I just feel like every time I get something good that makes me happy, it’s gone faster than I can enjoy it. I mean..with uh…with Pedro, everything was going great, I was so happy…and he just.. left. All because things got hard, because he cared too much about everything else. I was getting attacked consistently, but he couldn’t handle it. My happiness got shattered. I don’t want that to happen again, especially not with someone like you. It sounds insane, we only just met, but Hugh, I really like you.” 

“I really like you too y/n.” He smiles and leans forward. His lips are getting closer to yours and as much as you want to kiss him, you can’t, not yet. “Wait..” You put the hand that isn’t holding his hand on his chest, stopping him from moving forward. “What’s wrong baby. You don't wanna kiss me?” there's a cocky smirk on his face and it was the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. His voice was smooth and seductive. “As much as I want to shove my tongue down your throat right now, I really wanna do this right.” His eyes widen slightly at your words. “Right?” He questions. “I wanna get to know you more and take it slow. I like you too much for this to be rushed and ruined.” “Hmm. I can work with that, but just to be completely sure, you don’t want to kiss me?” The smirk is back. “God..you’re too hot for your own good.” You grab his neck and pull him into you. You kiss him with as much passion as possible, it would be the last one for a while, until time passes and these feelings are certain. His tongue slithers across your bottom lip and you pull back from the kiss. “You’re really testing your luck Jackman.” You laugh and he shrugs. 

“Is waiting okay with you? I don’t want you to feel pressured or tied to me in some way.” You’re playing with his long fingers. “That’s fine by me baby, I'll wait for you as long as I need to.” He leans back into the couch. 

“Friends for now?” You ask. 

“Friends for now.” He nods.

Thank you for reading <33

part five

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

if you want to be added/removed please leave a comment on this post! *let me know if I missed anyone or if the tag doesn't work*

[theemporium]

[2k] the holidays come and go as you and max celebrate over one month of marriage. the new season is on the horizon, feelings are evolving and charles is still determined to fix the mistakes made in vegas.

series masterlist

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“You know how you love me?” 

Pascale paused, wooden spoon hovering just above the pot she had been stirring moments ago. She hadn’t even heard you come into the kitchen, but there you stood in the doorway, an innocent look on your face that she knew well enough not to trust. 

“What have you broken?” 

Your brows furrowed together. “What makes you think I’ve broken something?” 

“You always use that voice when you break something,” Pascale retorted with a knowing look. “Like a vase or a picture frame or Arthur’s nose—”

“First of all, he broke it himself,” you huffed a little as you walked deeper into the room, pausing just beside your mother. “Secondly, I haven’t broken anything.” 

Pascale’s eyes narrowed in questioning. “So, what is it that you want?” 

Your expression grew sheepish as you wrapped your mother into a hug. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be mad that I invited Max over for Christmas Dinner.” 

Her brows furrowed together, a slightly confused expression painted across her face. “Mon cher, I’m sure Max would want to spend time with his family. It must be hard being away from them most of the season, no?” 

“There’s a storm,” you explained, your lips turned downwards. “No flights going in or out of the Netherlands. He was meant to fly out yesterday but he couldn't. He probably won’t be able to fly out until New Years.” 

Pascale’s eyes softened at the admission. “He’ll be alone for Christmas?” 

“No one should be alone for Christmas, Mama,” you murmured, puppy dog eyes and pout ready and prepared to tug on your mother’s heartstrings. And it worked. You knew it was going to work. 

It always worked. 

“Absolutely not,” Pascale huffed, shaking her head before she turned back to the pot on the stove. “Tell him he’s coming here. And tell Charles in advance so he can get his tantrum out before Christmas.” 

Your smile widened as you leaned in to peck your mother’s cheek. “You’re the best!” 

“Mhm,” Pascale hummed, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice as she shot you a glance over her shoulder. “You seem to really care for the boy.” 

“He’s my husband,” you said, playful and lighthearted and unaware of the underlying message in her words. “I’m pretty sure caring for him was in the vows, no? Unless Vegas is different. Which it might be. I don’t really remember.” 

She shot you a look.

You flashed her a sheepish smile. “I mean, I was completely sober and aware and very upset that my mother wasn’t there to see me get married?” 

Pascale rolled her eyes in response before she continued. “I just mean that it almost seems like you and Max are a true couple.” 

“Mama, how many times have we been over this?” You sighed, a little whiny as you slumped your head against her shoulder. “I promise I was not secretly dating Max Verstappen behind your back. Arthur just keeps saying that to annoy Charles and—”

“No, no, I know that,” she interrupted with a soft laugh. “I just think you have grown to care for him beyond what an accidental wife would.” 

You scoffed a little at that. “I care the normal amount for an accidental wife.” 

“No need to get defensive, mon cher, he is not better,” Pascale snorted, shaking her head with a fond look in her eyes. “But I am sure there is no need to worry about the details. Charles said he found a lawyer, no?” 

You tensed a little before flashing your mother a strained smile, trying to ignore the way your stomach dropped a little at her words. “Did he? He hadn’t mentioned anything to me.” 

Pascale had a knowing glint in her eyes but she kept poking. “Hm, maybe it was a Christmas surprise.” 

“Maybe,” you murmured, frowning a little. “No need to go through the hassle right now though. It’s the holidays. It can be sorted after the New Year.”

“Oh, of course,” Pascale grinned. 

“I’ll go message Max,” you said, straightening yourself before pecking your mother’s cheek once more. “I’m sure he will be so excited. He loved your cooking.” 

Pascale’s smile was all sweet and teasing. “That’s why he is my favourite son.”

...

.

...

“Are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to impose or—”

“You are very welcome here, Max, you’re a part of the family too,” Pascale reassured the boy, patting his shoulder with a fond smile before handing him a dish to carry out to the dining table. “We are all very happy to have you joining us.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Charles grumbled under his breath. 

“Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc—” 

“Kidding!” Charles spoke up, his cheeks flushed a light pink colour at his mother’s scolding tone. “I could imagine no better Christmas gift!” 

Pascale rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Max. He gets a lot more tolerable once he’s been fed.” 

You snorted in response. 

Charles lightly kicked you as he walked past. 

“Thank you though, really,” Max said, looking far more relaxed and at ease than he had during the first family dinner he attended, despite Daniel messaging you about how nervous the Dutchman was. “This is much better than what I had planned before.” 

“Hey now,” you spoke up, nudging your hip against Max’s as you settled beside the boy. “Jimmy and Sassy seem like excellent company.” 

Max grinned a little. “They are divas, trust me.” 

“Just like their father,” you teased. 

Pascale only smiled knowingly before handing you another dish to take to the dining table.

...

.

...

“This was a bad idea.” 

“Hi, Oscar. How are you doing? Happy New Years, by the way, since Australia is ahead and I haven’t said a word—”

“Are you done yet?” You grumbled down the phone, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as you eyed the door warily. 

“You’re the one who risked calling me at seven in the morning.” 

“It’s not seven yet,” you retorted. 

“Semantics.”

“I should have just called Logan,” you muttered, mostly to yourself than the boy on the phone—but considering the snort he let out, he heard you clear enough. “The asshole didn’t pick up his phone.”

“He’s probably lost his phone in a lake by now.” 

Your lips twitched. “Bet the crocodiles would have better advice than you.” 

“And yet, you still called me.” There was a small pause, the playfulness now replaced with something a little more serious when you didn’t laugh at his lame attempt at a joke. “What’s up?”

“I’m in the Netherlands right now,” you breathed out, sliding into the bathtub and leaning back against the porcelain wall.

“I know. You told us.”

“I’m in the Netherlands for New Years with Max,” you repeated, the emphasis on your husband’s name doing little to help Oscar realise the point you were trying to make. 

“Yeah, you’ve lost me.” 

“I–” You let out a heavy breath, your head falling back against the bath and your eyes fluttering shut. “What the fuck am I doing?” 

“Probably sitting in a bath, if you’re at least three drinks deep.” 

Your eyes snapped open, glancing down at yourself before scoffing. “Creep.” 

“I’m your best friend. I just know you. Nothing creepy about that.” 

“Whatever,” you grumbled, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

It was nothing special in your opinion, a simple black dress you had made a few months ago with some spare fabric and an overwhelming sense of boredom as summer loomed on. Yet, Max had still gone out of his way to compliment you when he saw it, on how pretty both you and the dress were. 

You told yourself he was just being polite, but it didn’t stop your cheeks from warming at his words regardless. 

“Why are you confused?” 

“Two months ago, the most I had spoken to Max was when Charles first moved up to Formula One and we hadn’t seen each other in a few years. Now, I am married and he invited me to spend New Years with him and—” 

“You invited him to your family dinners. Twice. Once on Christmas, may I add.” 

You glared at your phone for a moment. “Not the same point.” 

“How not?” 

“Because this is New Years,” you emphasised once again. “You spend it with people you want to have in your life for the next year. You spend it with people important to you and he brought me and I am meeting his friends and—”

“I think you are severely overthinking this.”

“Well, I don’t think you are taking it seriously enough,” you retorted. 

“Are you scared about kissing him? Is that what this is?” 

You didn’t reply straight away. 

“Oh my god.” 

You huffed. “You make it seem like I am being dramatic.“

“You are.” 

“Logan would disagree.” 

“Logan isn’t here.” 

“Stupid timezones and stupid Florida,” you grumbled once again, glaring at a random spot on the wall across from you. 

“Look, do you wanna kiss him?” 

You let out a garbled noise of indecisiveness.

“You either kiss him or you don’t. It’s your choice. He’s not gonna pressure you into anything. He just wants to spend time with you. Don’t overthink it.” 

“I won’t.” 

“You will.” 

And you did. 

Even after spending a prolonged amount of time on the phone with Oscar in the bathroom, you still felt skittish and on edge when you headed back into the party. The faces around you were vaguely familiar, countless names that Max had thrown at you bouncing around your head but you couldn’t pinpoint them. Not well. 

Not that you were talking to his friends as much as you should have been doing, beyond a few sheepish and polite smiles. 

And Max had picked up on your shifted behaviour pretty quickly. Your smile had done little to soothe his concern as you took your spot next to him, letting out a relieved sigh when you felt his hand on the small of your back.

“You good?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded.

His frown deepened. “We can leave if you want.” 

But you shook your head, your smile a little more genuine this time. “No, I’m good. I promise. Just need a moment before I do another round of tequila shots.” 

This time Max smiled a little in response. 

And you couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes always seemed to wander to the time, whether it was a clock or your phone screen or the watch on Max’s wrist. Your eyes were glued to the way both hands quickly began to approach the number 12. Your whole body felt like it had been shot with adrenaline, coursing through your veins and making you so twitchy and on edge as midnight was moments away. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Max questioned as the party gathered in a crowd in the garden with the promise of fireworks luring them out. 

TEN! 

NINE! 

EIGHT!

“Yeah, I promise,” you smiled, something almost quite fond in your voice as Max stared at you, not the sky where the fireworks were about to go off. 

SEVEN!

SIX!

FIVE!

FOUR!

“I’m sorry if this is a bit much,” Max murmured with his lips pressed together. “I did kind of throw you in the deep end. I just thought it would be easier in a bigger setting rather—” 

And it made your heart soar just how sweet and considerate he was being. It made the tension lingering in your chest ease, made the shakiness in your hands stop. 

It made your decision much easier. 

THREE! 

TWO!

ONE! 

“It’s perfect, Max,” you murmured, so soft that you weren’t even sure he heard you. But you didn’t get the chance to ask as you leaned in, pressing your lips against his as the final toll of the bell rang and the fireworks began.

Despite being caught off guard, Max sunk into the kiss easily. His hand dropped to your waist, pulling the little bit closer before the eventual cheers and fireworks display made you finally pull away. 

But his eyes remained on you. 

“What was that for?” Max questioned, something written in his eyes that you couldn’t quite distinguish.

You smiled in response, shrugging. “Because you’re my husband.”

...

liked by oscarpiastri, arthurleclerc and 423,738 others

yourusername happy holidays from the verstappens!

view all 16,837 comments

charles_leclerc that's not your name. stop saying that's your name. i am so serious.

pascaleleclerc leave them alone, charles

charles_leclerc MAMAN????

maxverstappen1 when i married you, i didn't know i would be carrying you this much

yourusername are you saying i don't deserve the princess treatment?🤨

maxverstappen1 ...no?

danielricciardo don't sound too confident, mate

yourusername now i wish i posted the picture where you dropped the tray

maxverstappen1 that was not my fault and you know it

yourusername 😁

user OH MY GOD??????

user they spent the holidays together!!!!

user THEY ARE SO CUTE

landonorris it's weird not seeing him in red bull merch

yourusername tell me about it

user i cannot WAIT for next season

user do you think she will go to the red bull garage now??

arthur_leclerc charles will chain her to the ferrari garage before that happens

user i cannot cope with these two i am so obsessed

logansargeant HELLO????? ANSWER YOUR PHONE??? WTF IS THAT THIRD PHOTO???

oscarpiastri i would also like to know. answer the group chat

yourusername woah what's that? sorry can't hear you over the fireworks!!

logansargeant 😐

user can i be your new years kiss🤩

maxverstappen1 no.

user i swear they have been secretly married for years and they are playing a prank on us

charles_leclerc why would you say this

.

[hiiikiko]

𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓!𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

tlou m.list | caught in your web m.list

[a/n]: hi! i hope you’ll all accept this, i hv work today n i’ll be workin until like 9 p.m but i’ll make sure to write tmrw !! n ty for all the likes on this series ♡

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

♰ before ellie got bitten, she wore glasses but after she didn’t need them anymore. she still wears them with the lenses popped out though because she thinks she looks weird without them, although she doesn’t wear them at school that often

♰ when she gets in a fight with tommy or maria, she sneaks out her window and finds a nice quiet roof to sit and listen to music, sometimes smoke but she’s cut back since her vigilante career began

♰ she has backpacks hidden all over the city so she can make a quick change. there’s one at school, the library, oscorp labs, the planetarium, and your apartment

♰ she knows you can handle yourself but that doesn’t stop her from following you home, like, come on! new york city is pretty dangerous and don’t you like having your very own vigilante??

♰ might be a little stalkerish but she sometimes hangs out on the roof of the building across your apartment building so she can watch you go about your evening, she doesn’t mean to do it but somehow she always ends up there

♰ she carries pepper spray even though she has literal superpowers

♰ she’s trained her spider sense to be even more heightened so that she can fight with her airpods in

♰ she has a playlist for fighting bad guys

♰ even though she’s city renowned spiderman, she still helps the elderly cross the street and help cats out of trees (she’s a little hesistant to help the cats because of how hard it is to mend scratches on her suits fabric)

♰ she owns a spiderman figurine like what did you expect? she’s a fan girl of the avengers, she owns all their figurines and they are in mint condition so why wouldn’t she own her own?? like that has to be the coolest thing to her

♰ concert tickets are expensive so sometimes she uses her powers for “bad” and sneaks into venues (she says it’s anti capitalist but really, she’s just being cheap)

♰ she has nightmares about turning into a real spider, kinda like franz kafka (she actually read this book in freshman lit and it scarred her)

♰ another one of her biggest fears is like what if she’s having sex with someone and she’s fingering them and her webs somehow shoot up into them?? like how do you explain that to a doctor?? this keeps her up at night

♰ seeing you in spiderman merch makes the tips of her ears go red and her heart race

♰ she cringes whenever she sees spiderman edits on her fyp

♰ onlyfans ppl who make content in her suit kinda scare her LMAO

♰ she actually doesn’t mind that everyone assumes spidey is a man, it helps her hide her identity but it kinda pisses her off that people can’t tell she’s a girl?? like do you not see the boobs . (her suit actually flattens her and all the protection gear inside gives her a pretty boxy figure so you can’t really tell)

♰ she has a hate/love relationship with her webs because on one hand she’s scared of touching people and on the other, she likes that she can ‘glue’ her camera to her hands when she’s on more dangerous photo ops and that she doesn’t have to get up from her bed to get her guitar (although, one time she hit herself in the face because she didn’t get it fast enough)

♰ ellie’s a different type of spiderman.. she’s actually very violent! especially against criminals who hurt others just for fun, she’ll beat them to a bloody pulp and leave them their for the ambulance to find (she leaves a note apologizing to the emts and sheriff, but it’s not like she killed them! nobody thinks that spiderman could do this so they assume there’s another vigilante out there, a more violent one *ahem* deadpool)

♰ she met deadpool once.. never again

♰ much like her infected bite from the game, her spider bite has caused cobwebs to grow in her veins

[finelinefae]

the aviator [pilot!harry x teacher!yn]

synopsis: It’s the 1950s. Harry is the best pilot on the Air Force base and y/n is a teacher at a nursery.

word count: 8.5k

contains: fluff, flirting, opposites attract, bad boy/good girl dynamic, Harry has a southern accent, alcohol, smoking, allusions to childhood trauma

This is part 1 of a new series that will probably have 3-ish parts !!

. . .

Offutt Air Force Base, situated in Omaha, Nebraska, housed thousands of civilians working in or connected to the military.  People living in the nearby town would often hear the loud plane engines as they take off and land on the runway. They’d look out the windows of their home and see spitfires piloted by men undergoing training, executing missions, or just having a good time, even when they technically weren’t given permission. 

“Wah Hooo!” The spitfire trembled as it finally landed on solid ground. Harry braced himself for the landing, pushing himself back against his seat to stop himself from jolting around. He did his best to hide his smile and remain nonchalant as he heard the familiar voices yelp in excitement as he landed the aircraft. 

He removed his helmet and pushed the canopy of the cockpit open, leaping down and getting familiar with feeling the solid ground beneath his feet after being in the air. Two figures ran up to him, flailing their arms and screeching in excitement, “Tha’s what I’m talking about!” Harry opened his arms, unable to stop himself from laughing the two men almost knocked him over as they joined in a group hug. 

“You flew her like a champ, H. Never seen anything like that in my life.” Harry looked into two sets of eyes an identical colour to his own. 

Standing in front of him were his two brothers, Sonny and George. All three of them were pilots in the military and had been since they left school to sign up after the War. There wasn’t too much age difference between them which was probably one of the reasons the brothers were so close.  Harry was the oldest, just over a year senior to George, who happened to be taller despite being the middle child, and Sonny was the youngest.

“Yeah well, she still needs some work. One of her engine cylinders is faulty.” The three of them walked side by side towards the maintenance shed. Despite their differences in height, anyone would assume the three brothers were triplets from how similar they looked. Most people on base knew them for their signature sea-glass green eyes and their brown hair. 

“Oh I’ll go and tell Ruddy, he might still be here.” Sonny ran ahead 

“Oh and Sonny,” Harry called for his younger brother, “Good job.” Harry winked at his younger brother, referring to his work on the plane he had just flown. In response, Sonny straightened his shoulders and smiled feeling proud after receiving a compliment from his older brother. 

Harry and George both lit a cigarette each, pausing outside the door to the warehouse to smoke together. “I opened up a letter this morning from Ma.” George exhaled, smoke escaping past his lips. 

Harry tried not to show his annoyance, “Wha’d she say?” He grumbled.

“She misses us… All of us and she wants us to stop by, come visit for dinner one day maybe.” George explained.

“Is she still with that old bastard?” Harry looked up at his younger brother.

George nodded, “Last time I heard.”

“Then we’re not going, none of us are.” Harry thought back to the last time he had allowed himself and his siblings to visit his mother. It was going well in the beginning, she’d cooked them up a roast pork and engaged in conversation, until their Father came home. It wasn’t long into their visit before they left the house and Sonny had gone home with a black eye whilst Harry had to get his hand stitched up at a hospital on the journey back.

Harry had grown up in Dallas, Texas, in a tacky old house that barely stood upright just on the outside of town. Whilst his Father was out working on a ranch somewhere and getting pissed up every night, Harry would spend most of his days keeping the house together whilst tending to his younger siblings. His mother was often somewhere in the house - nobody knew exactly what she was doing, since she wasn’t exactly all there half the time - but she was there.

Every visit they made back home was a reminder as to why they had entered the military in the first place. Whenever their mother would send them a letter, it was either because she wanted something or wanted them to come home so she could ask for that same something in person. The last time Harry had bought his siblings home was the first time in years. He thought his mother would be different yet he had no idea why - she was still letting that old man walk around as if he was the one who kept the house from falling. 

“Sonny and I agreed you’re picking up Elise from nursery by the way,” George smirked, chucking his cigarette on the ground and putting it out with his foot. 

“You and Sonny agreed that?” Harry frowned, receiving a nod from his brother, “I’ve been flying all day and y’ still want me to go pick up the baby?”

George clapped his older brother on the shoulder, “We’ve both got to help out in the warehouse this evening and besides, you’re Offutt's best pilot, I think you can handle picking up a two-year-old on the way home.” 

Harry didn’t have time to argue with his brother as he stepped into the warehouse. He let out a deep sigh and took one puff of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. He put his flight cap on his head to cover his messy hair and straightened his aviator jacket, walking towards the nursery. 

. . .

“How have you found your first day Y/N?” Midge, one of the other nursery workers asked as they stood at the sink together to wash up some of the paint pots a few of the kids had been playing with in the afternoon. 

“It’s been wonderful, Midge.” Y/N grinned. Although she was tired, she also felt ecstatic to finally be working again after months of searching for a new job.  She had always been good with children thanks to her older sister having a kid of her own for her to babysit now and then. So when the opportunity arose to work a well-paying job at a nursery on the military base, she couldn’t pass it up. They’d even offer her free accommodation and discounted food for groceries which was perfect considering she didn’t have much of any of those things when she was living alone.

“I expect most of the kids will be getting picked up soon,” Midge glanced at the clock, “Everyone will be returning from work.”

Y/N hadn’t expected pick up time at the nursery to be so busy but fathers and mothers bustled in to pick up their children to take them home all at once. Once the majority of the kids had been picked up, Y/N glanced around to see the mess that had been left from the day that she’d have to clean up by herself. Her shoulders dropped as she landed on a small figure, realising she wasn’t completely alone yet. 

“Elise, what are you doing?” Y/N smiled at the tiny girl playing in the corner, she was picking up picture books and flicking through them as if she were actually reading them. Y/N crouched down in front of the small toddler, “Are you enjoying those?” 

Elise just grinned, picking something up with her small fingers and trying to put it in her mouth. Her brown, curly ringlets were no longer in uneven bunches like they had been this morning and her overalls were covered in food and paint stains. Y/N picked up the two-year-old to place in her lap, “Shall we read something before your dad comes to get you?” Elise babbled a reply. 

Halfway through their fifth book, Elise was near enough asleep on Y/N’s lap. It had already been an hour since all of the other children went home and it wouldn’t be long before the sun would set. Y/N carefully picked Elise up so her head was on her shoulder and it was comfy enough to sleep as she stepped towards the telephone to see if Elise’s father was coming to pick her up. 

As her hand went to pick up the telephone, a voice stopped her, “Hello?” It was deep and southern and husky like he had just smoked a cigarette or two, “I’m here to pick up Elise.” 

Y/N turned around, and her breath caught in her throat as she spotted a tall figure leaning casually against the door frame. He wore a brown leather aviator jacket and grey trousers, with his flight cap tucked under his arm. His piercing green eyes, similar to Elise's, met hers, framed by brown curly hair. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. 

Y/N had never seen anyone like him in her entire life. 

“Y-yes,” She cleared her throat and forced her eyes to look away from his intense gaze. She stood and walked over to where he stood by the door with Elise in his arms, “You must be Elise’s father.” 

“M her brother,” He corrected. 

“Excuse me?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly, too busy gawking at him to actually pay attention. 

“M Elise’s brother, one out of three of her brothers to be exact.” He repeated, his eyes glancing at the sleeping girl Y/N was holding. 

“O-oh,” She blushed, “My bad, you look so similar I thought you were her father.”

“Easy mistake,” Harry smirked, “Would you like me to take her from you?” 

“Yes, of course,” Y/N gently removed Elise from her and passed her to Harry.

“There we go,” He cooed as Elise whimpered at the sudden movement, “There’s m’ little Elise.” 

Y/N thought her ovaries might explode as she watched the pilot interact with the small girl in his arms, making sure she was comfortable enough so she could remain asleep. “Are you new here ma’am?” Harry spoke his focus now back on Y/N.

“Yes actually, today’s my first day here,” She explained. 

“No wonder, I ain’t ever seen y’ around the place. How’re you liking it so far?” 

“I’ve only been here a couple of days but it’s been nice. Working here at the nursery has been lovely too,” 

“Yeah?” Harry’s lips curled, “I hope this one hasn’t been giving y’ much trouble. She can be a little devil with my younger brothers.” 

Y/N immediately shook her head, “No, she’s been lovely honestly. Think I spent most of the day with Elise out of all the other children.” 

Y/N noticed how Harry focused on her face as she spoke to him, every now and then his eyes would dart to her lips and then back up to meet her eyes, “Y got any friends here?” 

She paused, “Any friends?” 

“Yeah, you know,” He half smiled, it felt almost flirty but maybe Y/N was just imagining it, “People y’ like to hang out with.”

“Uh yeah, I share a house with a few of the girls who work in various places around the base. I get along with most of them and the ladies who work here at the nursery too.” Y/N explained, cringing at how awkward she was and how she’d probably be replaying this conversation back later only to die of embarrassment of all the things she said. 

“Y’ know there’s a dance down at the community centre this Friday, y’ should come, oh and invite some of those friends of yours too.” 

“Oh I don’t know, I think I’m working this Friday and-” 

“A lot of my buddies who I fly with go there sometimes - a good time they said. It might be a good chance to meet some of the people here,” He shrugged, “Could offer y’ a dance or two if you’d like.” 

Y/N wondered if all this was really happening right now or if she was just so tired that she was hallucinating, “O-okay,”

Harry grinned, a dimple carving into his cheek, “Well alright then,”

“Alright then,” Y/N tried to keep her smile at bay as she took it as his queue to leave. She kept the door open so he could easily step out as he walked backwards with Elise in his arms and his eyes still on Y/N even as he said nothing. 

“So I’ll see y’ at the dance?” 

“Maybe,” Y/N shrugged, even though she had already decided she was most definitely going to the dance. 

“Alright, maybe I’ll see y’ at the dance then,” Harry responded with a light, amused chuckle. 

Y/N watched as he turned his back and began to walk down the dirt road until he stopped briefly and spun around, “I didn’t catch y’name by the way,” He called out to her.

Y/N cupped her mouth, “It’s Y/N,”

“Y/N,” He said the name like he was testing how it sounded, “M Harry. Hey, I better see y’ at that dance Y/N, I don’t handle rejection all that well.” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can believe that,” She yelled back.

“I’d say goodbye but I wanna see y’ at that dance so I’ll say goodnight instead.” Harry said with a casual salute before turning and continuing down the road.

Y/N shut the door and leaned against it, clutching her hands over her chest in complete disbelief. Her sister had warned her the pilots on the base would be young men near enough her own age and that she ought to be careful hanging around them. However, her sister hadn’t warned her that a man like Harry would stumble over to her workplace to pick up his sister and invite her to a dance on Friday night.

Y/N quickly cleaned up the nursery, shoving things into boxes and wiping down the tables, before grabbing her coat and running down the road to her house.

On every street on the housing estate, there was a row of houses that all looked the same but were owned by different types of people. Some had big families all living under one roof, others were men who lived alone. Y/N’s house was the first house on the street. It was a traditionally designed home with a pitched roof, a small front porch and symmetrical windows. She shared it with three other girls who all worked different jobs across the Air Force base. 

The sun had already set by the time she entered the house. All the lights were turned on and the gentle music of Buddy Holly sounded from the living room. Y/N kicked off her heels and hung up her coat, walking to the living room where Patsy and Molly were lounging on the couch. Molly had Patsy’s foot in her lap as she painted her toenails a wine red. 

Y/N collapsed on the couch next to Molly, “What’s wrong? Work not go so well?” Molly inquired.

“No,” Y/N huffed, resting her head on Molly’s shoulder, “It was wonderful.”

“Well, what’s got you so blue Peggy Sue,” Patsy questioned, her tone playful. She was reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette. 

“A man came into work after everybody left to pick up one of the girls, Elise.” Y/N clarified. 

“You mean Elise Styles?” Molly asked. 

Y/N sat up, “Yes, you know her?” 

“Just about every woman on this base knows her. She’s the Styles’ little sister.” Molly explained, “We’ve all had to babysit her at least once for those brothers.” 

“Yeah and neither of us will be doing it again,” Patsy piped up, as if reminding Molly. 

“Oh, you must know Harry then,” Molly paused, shoving Patsy’s foot off of her lap and turning to face Y/N.

“Is he the man you’re sighing over?” Patsy’s magazine fell to the floor as she too stopped to listen. 

Y/N furrowed her brows, confused by their reaction, “Y-yes, what about him?”

“What about him?” Molly stood, grabbing a cigarette from the packet on the coffee table and lighting it up, “Y/N you oughta be careful around all three of those brothers but especially Harry.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N glanced at Patsy who nodded in agreement with Molly. 

“That boy is not good news. He’s Offutt’s best pilot and he thinks that gives him the right to go around sniffing out every woman that steps foot onto this base.” Y/N frowns, watching as Molly begins to pace back and forth, “He didn’t ask you to go out with him did he?”

“Well he asked me to the dance on Friday. The one at the community centre.” 

“Oh, I bet he did!’ Molly exclaimed, “Listen Y/N, I’m telling you this because I don’t want any trouble for you. That boy is no good, he’s slept with half the ladies residing here and even the wives too I bet! He asked Patsy to go out to dinner with him one night and stood her up to go see another woman.”

Y/N glanced at Patsy, “He was flirting with two different women inbetween the moment he asked and our date a week later.” She added. 

“That’s right. Y/N darlin’, we shoulda warned y’ before y’ stepped foot out of this house this morning. Those Styles brothers will mess you around and leave y’ lonely for sport. You’re too nice to deserve all of that.” 

Y/N's shoulders slumped, “But he seemed so… nice.” Y/N pictured Harry with Elise and how gentle he was with her. 

“He’s not a bad person Y/N but when it comes to women, there’s no guessing what that man turns into.”

“Everyone’s heard plenty of things about why they came here too. If you ask me, his home wasn’t exactly a perfect example to him.” Patsy said.

“Well, whatever reason, best stay away from him.” Molly finished. 

Y/N heaved a sigh, “So I shouldn’t go to the dance on Friday?”

“Oh no, we’ll go to the dance. Harry’s not the only fine, young pilot on base I’ll tell you that.” Molly smirked and Patsy cheered with excitement at the thought of going out Friday night. 

Y/N attempted to smile, but she couldn't shake off the sadness upon realising that the man she had met earlier in the evening wasn't as kind as she had initially believed. Molly fell back onto the couch next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, “Cheer up sweet cheeks. I’m sure plenty of men will want to take you out after this dance.” 

Y/N managed a weak smile, grateful for Molly's comforting presence. "Thanks, Molly," she murmured, leaning into her friend's embrace.

"Yeah, plenty of fish in the sea, darlin'. You'll find one that's worth your time." Patsy chimed in.

Feeling a bit more reassured by her friends' words, Y/N nodded. "You're right. I can’t let one bad apple ruin my night."

Molly squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "That's the spirit! Now let's focus on having a great time at the dance. We can tell you about some of the other fellas who live here too."

With her friends' support, Y/N felt an inkling of hope return. She might have been disappointed by one man, but she wasn't about to let it dampen her spirits for the rest of the evening. She was glad she told her friends about her interaction with Harry and now she was left with one rule stitched into the back of her mind.

Keep away from Harry Styles. 

. . .

The night sky was clear enough to see the stars glittering against the pitch-black backdrop. A soft, gentle breeze flowed through the air as Harry lay back on the swinging chair on the front porch of the house he shared with his three brothers. 

This was his favourite time of day when it was completely silent and the air was cool and crisp. He didn’t like the nights so much when he was living with his parents. After midnight, or sometimes just before, his father would come in through the backdoor stinking the place up with alcohol and waking everyone up with his nightly rampages. 

Nowadays, the nighttime was the most relaxing part of the day and Harry savoured every second of it. He often finds himself sat out on the porch after putting Elise to bed. He’d smoke a cigarette or two, and maybe play his guitar a little bit. 

Tonight felt a little different though. Whilst his brothers were upstairs trying to put a fussy Elise to bed after she’d napped when he brought her home from nursery, he came outside and could think of nothing but the woman he found holding his little sister in her arms. 

Harry knew everyone on base the same way they knew him. He recognised faces easily and had at least one brief encounter with everyone he met in passing. However, the face he had met for the first time this evening was unfamiliar and new. 

Her features were delicate and angelic, with large doe eyes that held a hint of shyness to them. A soft, rosy blush adorned her cheeks and her lips were full and plush that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of them. Her movements were gentle and her voice was airy and sweet, Harry thought of her stuttering and the way she’d blush whenever she spoke. He hadn’t seen anything like her in his life - he wasn’t a religious or spiritual person but, at that moment, he was pretty sure an angel had landed right in front of his very eyes. 

Even her name sounded as though it came from some kind of mythical text - one full of beauty and purity, love and light. 

Harry wasn’t the purist of men, far from it. He had slept in the beds of women he couldn’t remember the name of and indulged in his fair share of reckless behaviour. But in the presence of Y/N, he felt an unfamiliar stirring within him, a sense of longing tugging at his heartstrings. He didn’t know what it was and he wasn’t so sure he was ready to find out yet. 

He lit a cigarette with a matchstick and exhaled into the air, tendrils of smoke dancing above him. The sound of footsteps thudding inside of the house as someone walked downstairs, broke the silence he had been basking in. 

The door swung open and George stepped out, “Finally managed to get Elise to settle down though it took a whole round of nursery rhymes. Sonny’s still up there now, he’s afraid she’ll wake up again if he stops singing.” George took a cigarette from the pack Harry had in his pocket, “I thought you told those ladies at the nursery not to let her nap before she comes home.” 

“I did,” Harry spoke, his voice husky. 

“What? They didn’t listen to y’?” George chuckled. 

“There’s a new worker. I’ll let her know next time I see her.” Harry hadn’t wanted to tell Y/N that Elise wasn’t allowed to sleep so late in the afternoon because it was harder to get her to go to bed at night. He didn’t seem to have the heart to as he watched her hold the small girl in her arms. 

George scoffed, “A new worker? Is she a knockout at least?” 

Harry didn’t reply, instead asking,  “What do y’ think about the three of us going to the dance at the Community Centre on Friday?” 

George laughed until he realised his brother wasn’t laughing with him, “You’re serious?” 

The door swung open again and out stepped Sonny, “I swear if that baby wakes up, you two can sit in there and dance circles around her singing Miss Muffet for all I care. I ain’t doing that again.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “Can y’ pass me a cigarette, George?” 

George handed the cigarette to Sonny, “Hey Sonny, Harry wants to know if we’ll go to the dance at the Community Centre this Friday.”

Sonny chuckled but that quickly went away, “Oh shit really?”

“Yeah tha’s what I thought,” George said.

“You got your eye on someone Harry?” Sonny spoke, “Is it that girl from the med centre? She sure is something.”

Harry sat up and turned to face his two brothers, “No, it’s not that,” He lied, “Jus’ thought we could go do something other than sit around and drink at the bar.” 

“But the dance?” Sonny quirked a brow, “You hate dances.”

“I never said that,” Harry said, even though he always made it known how much he hated the dances they held every Friday night. 

“No, I definitely think I remember y’ saying dances were for people who wanted to get laid but couldn’t,” George spoke, backing up his younger brother who nodded in agreement. 

“Alright,” Harry held his hands up, “Alright maybe I did say that. C’mon, what are you, Gunther and Francis? Sit down the pair of you.” They followed their older brother's orders, sitting on the seats opposite him. “Maybe there is a girl.” He sighed.

“Oh yeah?” Sonny smirked.

“Yeah, little shit,” Harry chuckled, “So if you could both do me a favour and get yourselves cleaned up Friday night because we’re going to a shitty dance and I won’t be having either of y’ covered in grease and soot.”

“Okay, alright, H.” George took a puff of his cigarette, “But you’re paying for drinks after.”  Harry shook his head, unable to suppress a chuckle.

. . .

Y/N stood in front of her bedroom mirror when Friday night rolled around. She had left the nursery in a hurry, needing as much time as possible to get ready for the dance at the Community Centre. She had been wracked with nerves all week, knowing there was a high chance she would see Harry there and she’d have to do her best to ignore him like Molly had told her to. 

She had picked out her outfit the night before. It was one of her best dresses- a lovely duck egg blue, satin fabric with a fitted bodice and a sweetheart neckline that showed off her decolletage. From the waist, the skirt flowed down in a full, flared A-line silhouette, gently swaying with every step. She wore white low heels on her feet and decided to carry a small purse with her too. 

Most of her time in the evening was spent on her hair and makeup. Y/N had almost used an entire can of hairspray to ensure her hair would stay intact the whole night. Molly had even given her a French manicure the night before and she spent the whole day at the nursery trying her best not to ruin her perfectly shaped nails. 

It had been a long time since she had put this much effort into going somewhere and it was all for a measly dance. There would be many other pretty girls who had spent more or less time on dressing up who probably had a better chance of catching the eye of a man than Y/N did. Yet she wasn’t hoping for the attention of just any man. 

Even though Molly and Patsy had warned her of Harry’s nature, she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled and the sound of his voice as he spoke in that deep, southern drawl. Every time she thought of going to the dance, he would appear in her mind. Maybe she didn’t necessarily want anything from him but she wanted to at least catch his eye enough to make a lasting impression on him. 

Y/N applied a little more powder to her nose and did one final check in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders, “This will have to do,” She muttered, grabbing her purse. 

Patsy and Molly were already downstairs drinking margaritas and listening to Frank Sinatra on the record player. “Oh and another one comes to join us,” Molly grinned, wearing a navy, spotty dress with a red belt wrapped around her small waist. 

“What took you so long?” Patsy grinned, pouring a drink in a martini glass and handing it to Y/N.

“O-oh no thank you, I don’t drink.” Y/N shook her head and forced a smile out of politeness.

“What? You don’t?” Patsy replied like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“Oh c’mon! Just one little sip - liquid courage and all that.” Molly took the glass from Patsy to give to Y/N who forced herself to take it from her. She held the glass to her lips, taking one small sip and feeling a tiny burn from the alcohol. 

“Good right?” Molly smirked, lighting a cigarette and holding the packet open to Y/N. 

“No thank you, I don’t smoke either.” Y/N laughs nervously. 

“Fair enough,” Molly shrugs, passing the pack over to Patsy who happily takes one for herself. 

Y/N places her drink on the table, knowing she won’t be touching it again. “We’ll be heading out in a moment, we’re just waiting on one more.” As if she could hear them talking about her, footsteps thumped down the stairs and into the living room.

Y/N’s eyes widened when her eyes landed on the tall, blonde standing in the doorway. She was wearing a black dress with a neckline that showed off her bust and a tight waistline that accentuated her curves. The strands of her golden, blonde hair were tied back into a high ponytail with her fringe perfectly curled. She wore red lipstick on her plump lips which made the blue in her eyes even brighter than they already were.��

“You’ve been in your room for hours, Nancy,” Patsy whined. 

“Yes well, I don’t just plan on getting wasted tonight Patsy.” Nancy retorted. 

Nancy was Y/N's other housemate, but Y/N didn't know her as well as she knew Patsy and Molly. Even though they lived together, Nancy seemed a bit distant compared to the latter two, who were friendly and nice. Nancy would smile politely, but she didn't say much else. Oftentimes, Y/N would get a strange feeling about Nancy like how she would make little comments that seemed to be jabs masked by forced politeness or how sometimes it felt like Nancy enjoyed pointing out Y/N's mistakes, like how she did her laundry or what groceries she bought. She wasn’t sure what she had done to upset Nancy but Y/N hoped it was just her over-thinking that made her believe she was this way and that tonight would allow them to get to know each other a little better. 

Nancy’s eyes fell on Y/N and looked her up and down, “Nice dress,” She said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

“Thank you,” Y/N offered her a smile but received nothing in return. 

“Alright ladies,” Molly stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray, “Let’s go catch us a few good men.”

“A few?” Patsy giggled.

“You’re right, I think a few is a little too much for this place.” Molly huffed and led the way out of the house and towards the community centre. 

Y/N could hear the live music coming from the centre as they walked down the street. Patsy and Molly were stumbling ahead, arms linked together as they laughed side by side. Y/N tried not to laugh at her friends as she walked alongside Nancy. 

“You planning on hooking up with anybody tonight?” Nancy’s voice broke the silence between them. 

“No I don’t think so,” Y/N replies. 

Nancy scoffs, “These dances are mostly for that you know, better prepare yourself when a fella tries to talk to you.”

“You think they’ll want to?” Y/N asked, hopeful.

Nancy glanced at her, “I’m sure they’ll snatch you right up those pilot boys.”

Y/N blushes, “Is there anyone you’ve got your eyes on tonight Nancy?” She liked this, conversing with Nancy. She hoped this would be the start of breaking the ice between them and maybe they could become friends eventually, or at least build acquaintances. 

Nancy smirks, “Only one.” She said nothing after that. 

The girls walked into the community centre which was already full of people from all over the airbase. A live band was playing Elvis Presley songs, the music blaring into Y/N’s ears once they stepped inside. “Any of you girls want a drink-”

“Molly is that Everett?” Patsy pointed to a man in the corner, talking to a woman. 

Molly’s face scrunched up, “I guess he’s back from Italy.”

Nancy interrupted the conversation, her eyes darting across the room like she was searching for somebody, “You girls grab something to drink, I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“Who’s Everett?” Y/N asked Patsy as they walked towards the drinks table. 

“A guy Molly had a thing with last year,” Patsy explained.

“Yeah until he told me he was going to Italy for a year and wanted to break things off so he could get laid by an Italian woman.” Molly ranted, leading the girls to the drinks table. 

A bowl of punch resided in the centre of the table, Molly grabbed the ladle and poured them all a drink. Y/N took a sip and allowed her eyes to scan the room. Couples were dancing in the centre whilst others spoke in groups off to the side.  

Eventually, her eyes caught sight of a group of men walking through the door. Each one of them was dressed in a similar uniform, a navy blue tailored jacket and matching, fitted trousers. She watched as an entire group of them continued to flood in through the doors until the last man stepped through. 

He was wearing the same uniform as the others and his hair was gelled back with one curl falling in front of his forehead, unlike the messy curls she had seen when they first met. Y/N couldn’t help but stare as he weaved through the crowd and interacted with people as he walked past them. Everyone seemed to know him from the looks of it. He exuded confidence and bravado, people’s faces lighting up whenever he stopped to talk to them.

“Patsy?” One of the boys spoke. 

“Here we go,” Molly muttered, forcing a smile. 

A man with features that looked similar to the man Y/N had been eyeing, walked up to them with a taller man following him. “Hi Sonny,” Patsy greeted. 

“Y’ sure know how to make yourself look good when you want to,” He winked, eyeing her up and down.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patsy put both her hands on her waist. 

“You know what I mean,” Sonny argued, realising he might have said something to offend her even though he had no idea what that might be. 

“Hi,” The taller man behind him spoke. Y/N looked up and was met with familiar green eyes except they were a little bit lighter than the ones she had seen. 

“Hi,” Y/N blushed.

“I’m George. Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.” He wondered, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the crowd as he spoke. 

“Y-Yes, I arrived recently actually. I just started working at the nursery.” She clarified. 

“Oh, the nursery! You must know my little sister Elise.”  Y/N’s lips turned upwards thinking of the little girl she had been spending so much time with over the last few days. Since her first day, Elise had constantly been wanting her attention whether it was to nap or play with things or read books. “You must have met my older brother then.”

“Older brother?” Y/N didn’t have enough time to register as George glanced around the room and called out his brother’s name. 

“Harry, c’mere!” He called. 

Harry’s head turned towards them in the middle of his conversation. His eyes landed on his brother until they found hers. He offered a small smile and began to walk towards them with a drink already in his hand, “This is one of the new workers at Elise’s nursery.” George introduced even though he didn’t really need to. 

“Yes, we’ve already met,” Harry said and Y/N thought she might melt into a puddle on the floor at the sound of his voice. “Hi there,”

“Hello,” Y/N smiled, shyly.

“So you came?” He teased. 

“I did.” She laughed, lightly. 

“And these are y’ friends?” He looked to Patsy and Molly who were bickering with Sonny who seemed to have said something else to offend them, George now joining in on the argument as he let Harry and Y/N talk. 

“Yeah, they’re my friends,” Y/N said, feeling nervous under his gaze. But despite her nerves, she couldn't deny the thrill of being the focus of his attention.

“Good to know,” He murmured, “Y come here with anyone else?” 

"Um, no, just the girls from my house," Y/N stuttered, feeling a rush of nerves as Harry's gaze lingered on her. "I don't know that many people. Other than the girls I live with and the ones from the nursery, who are all lovely, by the way," she added, her words tumbling out in a nervous ramble.

Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her flustered state. "You know me too," he stated, his tone playful as he leaned in closer. 

Y/N gulped the air she breathed just as the lights in the centre dimmed. The fast-paced music began to slow down and couples gathered to the dance floor to slow dance together. “Y wanna dance with me Y/N?” Harry asked. 

“I-I’m not very good at it,” Y/N smiled sheepishly, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. It was impossible to resist the charm that radiated from him.

He held out the palm of his hand and Y/N’s lips parted as she glanced down at it, “S just swaying tha’s all. Think y’ can do that?” 

Y/N hesitantly nodded, her pulse quickening as Harry's long fingers gently wrapped around her wrist. A tingling sensation danced across her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing goosebumps to rise in response to his touch. He led her to the centre of the dancefloor and turned around so they were face to face. Harry took both of Y/N's hands in his own, his touch sending electric currents coursing through her veins. With a tender yet confident touch, he trailed his fingers down her arms, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. As his hands settled at her waist, Y/N's breath turned shallow, her heart racing as the music floated through the air. 

She was stiff at first, unable to relax until he leant forward and whispered, “Relax birdy,” She felt his breath against her neck as he spoke. He squeezed her waist a little and she dropped her shoulders, trying her best to loosen up under the circumstances. 

“Birdy?” Y/N spoke, questioning the new nickname.

“I spotted y’ as soon as I stepped through the door. Your dress is blue ‘n it reminded me of the bluebirds I used to see back home whenever I’d go up in the mountains with my grandpa.” He explained. 

“I didn’t know you’d seen me.”

“I searched for y’ as soon as I walked in. I only came because of you, if I couldn’t find y’ I’d probably just turn back and go to a bar or something.” He chuckled and Y/N laughed with him.

“No Elise?” She questioned, unable to stop herself from asking about the little girl she had become fond of. 

“Elise is staying with the family next door. Little rascal tried to get ketchup on my uniform,” He rolled his eyes, “I got a free house if that’s what you’re implying though.”

Y/N’s face turned beat red, “N-No that’s not what I’m implying at all.”

“M just messin’” Harry grinned, cheekily.

Y/N relaxed, composing herself and trying to pull herself together, “I’ve heard things about you, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry smirked, “What things?”

“Just things.” Y/N felt his fingertips press her skin for a moment.

“And do you believe these things?” Harry murmured, leaning in a little closer.

Y/N looked him in the eye, trying to see if she could read him without having to ask him a thousand questions, “I don’t know yet.” 

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by the sudden change in music and the lights turning on above them. People cheered as they gathered back into big groups and began dancing again. Harry bit back a grin, shaking his head, “Y wanna come outside with me?” He asked, shouting over the loud music. Y/N bit her lip and nodded, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her through the crowd of people. 

The air was cold once they stepped outside. Harry led her over to a small bench nearby where fewer people were gathered. He pulled out a cigarette and offered her the pack, “Oh no thank you, I don’t smoke.” She declined, politely. 

Harry smiled around his cigarette, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a beat or two as he casually slipped the pack into the pocket of his trousers. The air between them was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of music drifting from inside the centre. Sensing Y/N's slight shiver, Harry swiftly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders without saying a word.

"But you'll get cold," Y/N protested, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Don't y’ worry about me. I don't get cold," Harry quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he shrugged off her concern. His white t-shirt revealed toned arms adorned with a few tattoos littering his tanned skin. 

As Harry tilted his head back to blow smoke into the night air, Y/N couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself with effortless confidence. Gathering her courage, she decided to strike up a conversation.

"Were those your brothers back there?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Yeah, Sonny and George," Harry confirmed with a hint of pride in his voice.

"They look so much like you," Y/N remarked, her curiosity piqued.

"Strong genes, I suppose," Harry shrugged, his tone becoming more serious as he opened up about his family background. 

"What about you? Do you have any siblings?" He inquired.

"Just an older sister and my little niece, Rosie Jean," Y/N replied, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she thought of her family.

"And your parents?" Harry pressed, his gaze intense as he studied her reaction.

"My parents are doctors, they work at a surgery in town," Y/N explained, feeling a pang of homesickness as she reminisced about her upbringing.

"And yours?" She prompted, turning the conversation back to Harry.

"M parents are nobodies," Harry's voice took on a sombre tone, clearly his family life was a sensitive topic. Sensing his discomfort, Y/N chose her next words carefully.

"What about Elise?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood with talk of his sister.

"Elise is better off being raised by us three than being left alone in a house with batshit crazy," Harry scoffed, his protective instincts kicking in.

Feeling the weight of their conversation, Y/N searched for a way to lift Harry's spirits. "What made you want to be a pilot?" she asked, genuinely interested.

“Sonny came home wanting to sign up for cadet training after they visited his school. He came home running through the doors with a flyer in his hand and told everybody he was going into the army. I told him ‘No brother of mine is going anywhere that requires trench foot and guns.’ He didn’t talk to me for a week after that. It wasn’t until I found an advertisement where y’ could train to fly planes when I decided I was gonna make a better life for myself and my siblings. It just so happened Sonny and George wouldn’t let me go at it alone.” He inhaled his cigarette before tossing it to the ground. 

As Harry shared the story of how he and his brothers found their way to Offutt, Y/N couldn't help but admire his determination. She found herself drawn to him even more, captivated by his strength and the way he always included his brother’s in everything he spoke about. 

A comfortable silence settled between them. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Harry smoothly slid his hand next to hers, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. 

"Have I told y’ how beautiful y’look tonight?" Harry's voice was soft, his gaze locking with hers in a way that made her heart race.

Y/N blushed at his compliment, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "You're lying," she protested, feeling a surge of warmth spread through her cheeks.

"I swear it," Harry insisted, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Swear on m’ life, birdy."

Y/N's heart fluttered at the nickname, a secret thrill running through her as she turned to face him. His eyes held a tenderness that melted her defences, and she found herself smiling back at him.

"Hi, birdy," Harry murmured, a dimple appearing on his cheek as he leaned in closer.

"Hi, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she savoured the moment.

Harry's shoulders dropped and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though he seemed to be fighting to contain it. “I can’t lie to y’ birdy, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his words. “I was gonna lie and tell y’ I’d been thinking about it since I saw you tonight but… quite honestly, I think I've been dreaming of y’ since I met y’ the other day.” 

Y/N didn’t know what to say, she felt as though someone had put a zipper straight across her mouth and she couldn’t get it to open. All she could feel was every muscle in her body beating against her skin as though they were trying to force her to surge forward and kiss him herself. “Y-You can if you want,” She stuttered, cheeks pink.

Harry laughed, “What about if you want? Can’t go kissin’ y’ if y’ don’t want it birdy.” 

“I do want it,” Y/N nodded. 

“Yeah?” He spoke but it came out more like a whisper. 

“Yeah.” Y/N gulped, feeling nervous. 

Harry didn’t hesitate once the word had left her mouth. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss, soft and exploratory. Y/N's heart fluttered as she melted into the warmth of Harry's embrace, her senses flooded with the taste of his lips and the scent of his cedarwood cologne.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment, their kisses deepening with each passing second. Harry's arms wrapped around Y/N, pulling her as close to him as possible. 

In that instant, everything else faded away—the noise of the party, the chill of the night air—leaving only the two of them, lost in the heat of their first kiss. 

They were both breathless as they pulled apart. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open to find Harry already looking at her, his eyes filled with emotion and intense desire. She noticed his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip and she couldn’t help but giggle when she noticed the red lipstick stain she had left on his mouth from her kiss. 

“Where abouts do you live?” Harry murmured.

“Clemon Street,” Y/N spoke, her voice coming out a whisper. 

“Yeah? That’s on my way home,” He grinned. 

“Oh really?” Y/N bit back a laugh, “I thought y’ lived on Newark Street - it said so in Elise’s file.” 

Harry shrugged, “I like to go the long way round.” Y/N didn’t bother pulling him up on the fact that the two streets were on opposite ends of the housing estate. 

“Can I walk y’ home?” He asked, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of her dress. 

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip, “Yeah I’d like that.” 

Harry grinned, “Well alright then.”

They stood up, Y/N keeping his jacket around her shoulders since it was still cold out, “I’ve just got to go to the bathroom,” She motioned towards the community centre. 

“I’ll wait for y’ at the door,” He said, following her as they walked to the community centre side by side. Y/N walked up to the steps and opened the door, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Harry was still there- that he was real and not just someone she dreamt up.

Harry caught her eye, “M not going anywhere birdy,” he winked, “hurry up so I can walk y’ home and kiss y’ again.” 

Y/N laughed and hurried straight to the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the cubicle door behind her and sank down onto the lid of the toilet seat, a wide grin spreading across her face. Unable to contain her excitement, she let out a delighted squeal, her mind buzzing with thoughts of the moment she had just shared. 

She pulled out the pocket mirror from her bag and quickly reapplied the lipstick that had been smeared off. She fluffed up her hair with her hands and rubbed her aching cheeks from where had been smiling so much. She stood up and held Harry’s coat in her arms.  As Y/N stepped outside the community centre, she scanned the area in search of Harry, hoping to catch a glimpse of him waiting for her. Her anticipation turned to disappointment when she couldn't spot him anywhere, and her shoulders slumped slightly in resignation. Just as she was about to turn away, a figure caught her eye—a silhouette that had a striking resemblance to Harry—standing in a shadowy corner illuminated by the lights from the community centre.

Heart fluttering with excitement, Y/N smiled and took a step forward, eager to walk home with him. However, her joy quickly turned to dismay when she realised he wasn't alone.

A sudden giggle pierced the air, causing Y/N's heart to sink. Molly's warning appeared typed out in big letters at the forefront of her mind, filling her with regret and dread as she hesitated, frozen in place. With each step she took closer, the scene before her unfolded—it was Nancy, her housemate, clinging to the man she had just kissed.

I imagine George to be Callum Turner and Sonny to be Timothee Chalamet specifically from ms stevens but you can imagine whoever you’d like ! &lt;;33

[blindmagdalena]

Guilty Pleasures ( chapter four )

18+ 5.2k homelander x plus size f!reader. office romance, stalking, voyeurism, office sex, cunnilingus, cream pie, breast play, flight sex, lite overstim, riding. nebulously takes place post s1. part 4/4. AO3 link. | Chapter Directory

Homelander takes what's his, and you get what's yours.

welcome to the final chapter! thanks so much for reading. i really enjoyed the dynamic between these two, and i hope you do, too. 🖤

Homelander doesn’t hold it against you that you take him up on his suggestion to be absent the following day. He leaves a little peace offering in your office to say as much: a mug for your collection that reads simply, You’ve Been Mugged. He adjusts it seven times on your desk before he finally leaves it alone, surveying your office a while before letting himself out.

The thugs he lasered down in the alley don’t garner much attention, but it’s enough to warrant a statement on the truth of what happened. With them dead, the truth becomes whatever he makes of it, and his truth is that two vagabonds were assaulting a cherished Vought employee before he put a stop to it.

It’s precisely the kind of hero story the public loves.

“I acted on instinct,” he tells the newscaster. He relives the moment as he tells it, recalls only to himself how fierce you had been. How determined you were that if you were going to die, you would die fighting. “They were going to hurt her. I like to believe any good citizen in my position would have done the same.”

Madelyn taught him that conviction without contrition would always read as arrogance, so he speaks firmly but with a furrow to his brow, and he closes his eyes when he inclines his head to accept praise. No matter how dead she is, her voice remains an echo in his mind: follow the script, and you’ll be fine.

They use his words to segue into a discussion of gun control, and Homelander’s mind drifts somewhere distant, hearing without listening to the petty squabbles of humans crying about their little toys and laws. He supposes this is how God feels when humans pray to Him over every minor inconvenience. Bored and painfully above it.

While it’s easy enough to keep himself distracted during business hours, Homelander’s life comes to an abrupt halt alongside the end of the working day. Like the equipment that broadcasts him, there’s little use for him once the cast and crew goes home. All around him the employees commiserate at the end of their work day and pass around invitations to the bar. 

He receives none. 

Not that he would accept them if he did.

Seeking both council and companionship, Homelander finds himself in Noir’s apartment, seated in the chair Noir keeps for him. It’s the only one the hero owns, what with his interior design being deeply steeped in westernized ninja nonsense. The place is half dojo, half living quarters.

He laments his situation to Noir, explaining his patience in courting you, the lengths he’s gone to endear himself to you on a personal level, and the bitter sting of your rejection.

“See her,” Noir writes in his sketchpad, sitting on the floor on the other side of the low table. “If glad to see her, good. If not–”

Homelander snorts at the series of knife sketches that follow. He has no doubt Noir would put an end to anyone for any reason Homelander gave. Simplicity has allowed Noir an unwavering loyalty to Vought, and as an extension, Homelander himself. Luckily for you, he has no interest in that happening. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Noir,” he muses, clapping his hands on his thighs before he stands up. “You’re right. I’ll go see her. Thanks, buddy.”

Noir offers two thumbs up. A true uproar of approval.

Under the cover of darkness, Homelander returns to your house, the flight path a familiar one now. He lands silently on your roof this time, cocking his head. He’s not confident he’ll be able to resist your siren pull if he approaches now. He folds his hands behind his back and peers through each layer between him and your bedroom, stopping when he can see you.

You’re nestled deep in the splay of your blankets, lips parted around shallow breaths. He bites his own bottom lip, remembering how badly he’d wanted to feel them. Taste them. He’s certain now that if he allowed himself to be close enough, he would. Denial, for as much as it stung in that moment, has only made him hungrier for you. Fuck, the way he’s craved you from the moment you first brushed him aside.

He watches you shift in your sleep and his eyes narrow, honing in on a familiar flash. His stomach flips–it’s his cape, the fabric pinned between your blanket and your body. You really are sleeping with it, the star spangled blue fabric tucked up under your chin. Do you smell him on it? Homelander groans softly. Like your underwear in his bedside drawer, you sleep with a trophy of your own.

“Fuck,” he says, aching. His heart, his mind, his cock–all of it at once a cacophony of vicious yearning and impatience. The urge to peel the roof like a sardine can and carve his way straight to you nearly knocks the wind out of him, has him preemptively reaching for the shingled surface.

Only the lingering wound to his ego gives him pause. He’s been bitten once, leaving him shy to instigate, but this revelation feels like progress. You’re aching for him as much as he is for you. He’s sure of that now. It’s time that he made you feel that ache. Feel his absence. Then you’ll realize the foolishness of your coy game.

Clenching his jaw defiantly, Homelander lifts up into the sky.

He’ll be benevolent when you come to your senses.

The next day, Homelander keeps himself scarce, preoccupied. Ashley is perkier than usual, thrilled–if not suspicious–with his easy participation in whatever inane business she brings to him. It helps distract him from the endless feeling of waiting that he’s enduring.

He sticks stubbornly to his schedule, fantasizing about the torment his avoidance has surely wrought. He’s tempted a time or two to break, but each time he remembers the mortified Oh! you uttered before he kissed you, he refocuses himself.

You’ll come.

Not before lunch, but that is the perfect opportunity for it. He makes himself more available then, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair. 

No sign of you.

He gives you the benefit of the doubt. A meal to embolden you.

Then you’ll come.

He waits.

Lunch long since over.

He waits.

The day is winding down.

He’s fucking tired of waiting.

Where the hell are you? He’s given you the entirety of the day to seek him out, ample opportunity to come thank him for his gift, to address the aching thing ruminating between you. You’d be a fucking liar to say you don’t feel it, too. By midday, he’s seething with impatience and hurt. There’s no chance he’s going to let you stand him up.

It’s precisely the wrong time for Ashley to rear her head back up. “Okay! That’s that, now regarding the amnesty for–”

“Ashley!” He snaps, a harsh and throaty sound. “Would you shut the fuck up?”

She stops in her tracks, staring wide-eyed. Of course it was too good to be true.

Homelander all but leaps to his feet, pushing out of his chair so hard that it flips backwards and into the wall in a heavy clatter. She clutches her vPad to her chest and quickly back steps out of his way, watching in frightened bewilderment as he storms from the room, making a beeline towards your office.

He doesn’t bother knocking this time. Still, his restraint is undeniable when he pushes your door open. He barely catches himself from pushing the damn thing clean off the hinges.

Your head snaps up from your computer, eyes wide. He hears your heart jump and he savors the alarm that shoots through you. Payback for the awful misery you forced him to endure in the hours since he last saw you. Still, the sight of you disarms him. For all his seething anger, there is something small in him that retreats it when your eyes are on him.

There’s a heaviness to your gaze that his strength can do nothing to alleviate. No incredible feat of his can wrench away what it is he wants from you. What he needs. It’s something you have to give him willingly, and that alone is enough to temper his rage. The familiar fear that you won’t.

He marches to the front of your desk and levels an accusatory finger on you.

“You like me,” he hisses, bending to brace his opposite hand on your desk.

You blink owlishly, lips parted. That clearly wasn’t what you expected him to say. He’s not sure it’s what he meant to say. “Homelander–”

“No,” he says, voice pitched low, a warning. “No, no. No games, no workarounds. You like me. You do. And I like you. So,” he abandons his point to make a vague encompassing gesture, but he doesn’t know what to say next. He didn’t think this far ahead. All day he had practiced the calm benevolence he would show when you approached him, chastised and yearning. He has nothing to back up this frenzied play for.

You stand. Homelander rises to his full height with you, jutting his chin out. He watches you with all the wariness of a wounded predator as you circle around your desk, your hand gliding along the wood like you would flank a horse so as not to spook it.

He can’t determine the intent behind your gaze. He angles his body towards you, facing you head on. You look like yourself again, in your element and free from the fawn fear of the alley. He can’t entirely decide which way he prefers you. When you were in his arms, he was your hero. In your office, his position feels more precarious.

The silence stretches on for hours–or seconds, it’s impossible to say–before he can no longer stand it. Sucking in a breath, he–

You kiss him.

Homelander goes shock still, hyper aware of your lips pressed feather light to his, your breasts against his chest, your hand on his forearm. He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but he senses when you begin to pull away. 

In a flash he cups your face in his hands and pulls you in deep, inhaling sharply, like  he’s only just remembered how to breathe. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you as if he can trap you in the cycle of it. You don’t resist, you don’t tense. Instead, you sigh an angel’s breath against his lips. Only then does he break to look at you.

“I don’t understand,” he says, bewildered, flushed.

“I do like you,” you say, eyes glassy.

His brows pinch. “But… That night–”

“Wasn’t right,” you interrupt. “I wanted to kiss you, but not like that. Not then. Not because you saved me, not because I was in shock, not because of…” you rock your head side to side. “Whatever other bullshit… You let me down that night.”

“Let you down?” Homelander echoes, taken aback. “By saving your life?” He asks, his temper a perpetual simmer ready to flare. He’s immediately tempered by your hands taking his wrists, squeezing. You hold his gaze and your expression is gentle, but there is a firmness in your stare that he finds intoxicating. Not an ounce of fear, even when his anger emerges.

Good. You shouldn’t be afraid of him. He saved you.

“I was shaken. Badly. My date was an entitled asshole, those men, they tried to…” You shake your head, holding his hands to your face. “I didn’t need you to be a man. I needed you to be a hero. I wasn’t ready.”

A light in Homelander’s eyes flicks on. You just weren’t ready. He’d been right after all. He fixates on that, choosing to forgive you for that, at least.

“Well, why didn’t… You could have said something,” he says, feeling like a deflated hot air balloon, all slack expansion and heat with no purpose.

“I would have,” you say, your cheeks soft and round in his hands, lips slightly puckered from his hold on your face. “But you ran away.”

“What? I–” He laughs incredulously. “I did not run away.”

“Flew away,” you say, pushing in to kiss him again. He screws his eyes shut. Fuck, fuck. Oh fuck. He’s been dreaming of this, aching for it. To feel you against him, wanting him as much as he wants you. “Pretty fast, too. Looked like you shot straight up to the moon,” you say, breath hot and sweet on his lips.

“I…” He swallows, hands slipping down to either side of your neck, thumbs tilting your chin up. “I’m sorry. I wanted you,” he says, trailing his parted lips along your jaw, kissing and breathing you in the way he’s craved to. He can feel your skin growing hot against his lips, hear the uptick of your pulse as your heart begins to race.

“Do you still want me?” You ask, voice lower now. It sends a delicious hot pang all the way through him.

“You have no fucking idea,” he murmurs, nipping at the lobe of your ear, desperate to test the give of you under his teeth, the feel of your soft and yielding flesh branded into his memory the moment his lips touched your skin.

A knock snaps his attention away from you, but it isn’t at the door. He looks down and sees that it’s you knocking on your desk. “So take me,” you say, voice laced with heat. His lips split into a wicked grin. He snatches the edge of your heavy wooden desk and effortlessly tips it backwards until everything slides off of it, clattering to the floor. He lifts you up, relishing your delighted little yelp, and places you down on the cleared surface like a doll, stepping in between your legs. 

He kisses you again. Let me in, demands the press of his tongue. You yield to him, but it’s far from a surrender. Your tongue meets his eagerly, tasting him as much as he does you. Tasting you. That’s what he wants. He wants to map every inch of you with his tongue.

Homelander slips his hand between your legs, pushing your skirt up out of the way. He presses his fingers to the heat between your thighs, rubbing through the thin fabric of your panties. You sigh that same seraphic sound against his lips, slipping your hands up into his hair, already taking a handful of it to tug gently.

He breaks the kiss and takes his fingers from you after the barest tease of pleasure. The impatient sound you make goes straight to his cock, as does your flustered expression. He brings his fingers to his lips and drags his tongue over the leather of them, sliding them past his lips to give a quick suck. It’s not enough, too slight a hint of you. He needs more. You watch him with rapt attention, giving his hair a demanding little tug.

“You can pull as hard as you like,” he tells you with a smile, tilting his head against the grasp you have on his hair. “Tells me I’m doing a good job.”

“I’ll tell you when you’re doing a good job,” you rasp, giving his hair a sharp pull and then a downward push. That sends a shiver down his spine.

Fuck yes.

Homelander sinks down onto his knees, lifting each of your legs up over his shoulders. You give a little gasp when he yanks your ass to the edge of the desk, giddy with the way he manhandles you. He swallows, mouth dry, thirsty for the wet, heady smell of your pussy. He maneuvers his head under your skirt until he’s close enough to drag his tongue up the soft cotton of your panties. Your breath hitches and your grip in his hair tightens while you egg him on with sharp little rolls of your hips.

He closes his eyes, giving a rumbling moan for the taste of you, even through the fabric. He laps until the fabric is soaked, clinging to your skin, and he can feel your clit swollen and stiff on his tongue through your panties. He closes his mouth over it, sucking you through your underwear while you writhe above him, keeping yourself quiet.

That won’t do.

He wants to hear you.

He wants the whole fucking Tower to hear you.

Hooking the crotch of your panties with his finger, it only takes one sharp little tug to tear them, exposing you to him.

“Homelander,” you moan. The sound of it lances a spear of heat through him, leaves his cock throbbing needily in the rigid confines of his cup. He groans into you, rocking his hips against the empty air. The only proper answer is to dive in, to close his lips around your clit and finally suck the rich nectar of your cunt without the filter of fabric between you. You taste even better than you smell, like salt and sex and sweet ripe fruit. It overwhelms his senses immediately, his eyelids flickering. 

The more he laps at you, the silkier your pussy becomes. Between circling your clit, he drives his tongue deep into you, drinking you down noisily and messily, a parched man gulping from an oasis. Your thick thighs are tight on either side of his head, your pulse pounding in his ears. He moans low and wicked for the taste and feel of you.

Your grip on his hair tightens sporadically, sharp little tugs that match the staccato cadence of your breaths. “F-fuck, your tongue feels-feels fucking unreal,” you moan, grinding down against it. The strength of it, the slight thrum of restrained power that courses through him, and the sheer relentlessness of his stamina is driving you wild against his mouth. “Fingers, use your fingers,” you tell him. He loves the rawness of your voice, the authority and desperation in your demand.

Removing one of his gloves, he moves his bare hand to the sweltering wetness of you, teasing his finger just below where his tongue is rubbing your clit. His index finger slips easily into the slick mess, and he savors the quiver of your velvet walls around it. He lets you ride his finger, stays all but still while you greedily bounce your hips, both hands fisted in his hair. You use him for your pleasure, and it makes him delirious with want.

Homelander's gaze flickers up. He peers through the layer of your skirt to catch a look at you, to watch you while you cannot watch him. You’re losing track of yourself, lips parted, eyes glazed with pleasure, shivering with each flick of his tongue and dive of his finger. Euphoria looks good on you. 

Christ, he has been patient. He would chastise himself for waiting so long to touch you, to taste you, to feel you, but he can’t bring himself to. The wait gifted him with this exquisite hunger, and he proved something important; you both yearn for the other. You crave him. He can see it in your hazy eyes, taste it in the spill of your sweet cunt.

You belong to him. He needs only to take you.

One finger becomes two, and then three. Your heels dig into his shoulders and fuck yourself down on them, moaning recklessly now, not caring who hears you. It’s music to his ears.

“Fuck, Homelander, I-I’m coming, I’m-don’t stop, don’t stop,” you beg prettily. You don’t need to, but he enjoys the song anyway. He laps at your clit in quick upward pulls of his tongue, lips creating a seal around it. His brows furrow tightly, his own neglected arousal pounding through his body like a wardrum, but he doesn’t touch himself, too focused on you.

Your whole body locks up tight when you come, breath caught in your lungs, your clit fluttering delicately. He presses his tongue to it, savoring the taste of your euphoria, how it floods your system and changes the flavor of you. Your pleasure grows his hunger into something monstrous, something demanding, but there is satiation at least in bringing you this, in showing you all the things he will be for you.

You’ll never want for anyone–or anything– else ever again.

Homelander doesn’t stop. You begged him not to. He finger-fucks you through the aftershocks, lapping up every drop of your pleasure, stroking you inside and out while your cunt squeezes his fingers. He doesn’t stop until he feels you pushing him away, your sweet songbird moans sounding more like whimpers, oversensitized. He withdraws his fingers, giving one last noisy slurp before emerging from beneath your skirt. His face is shiny and wet with your slick, his pupils blown black. He's panting, looking every bit like a beast lifting its bloodied head from the belly of its kill.

Crawling up your body, still predator hungry, he rests his knee on the desk between your legs. He cups either side of your face, fingertips digging possessively into the back of your neck. He meets your eyes, pinning you with the intensity of his gaze, wordlessly drilling into your mind that this moment, this feeling, this tingling warmth in your body is him.

I did this to you, his expression reads. You’re on my lips, he says by pressing them to yours, kissing your own taste into your mouth, his body throbbing, desperate for an ounce of that same relief. You’re mine.

To his amazement, your eyes mirror his own savage hunger. You kiss him hard, shamelessly licking into his mouth, huffing shallow breaths from your nose. “Lie down,” you tell him, voice as sweet and coarse as raw sugar. “I’m going to ride you.”

Homelander doesn’t need to be told twice. Exhilarated, he rolls over, flipping you with him and steadying you above him in a fluid motion. The desk isn’t as long as he is tall, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already half suspended in the air with his own excitement, helping you with overly eager hands that fumble alongside yours with his belt, which falls to the ground with a distinct thud. He gives a little jump at the voracity you rip his zipper down with, grinning.

Together, you shuck his pants down to his thighs. You grip him through his red briefs, a fractured moan falling from his lips.

“Cute underwear,” you coo. His cheeks flush to almost the same shade. You flatten your palm over his cock and he bites back a whimper, teeth sinking into his tongue. You give a light squeeze, fingers curling around his cock through the fabric, and he lets out a rough breath. “You feel close,” you tell him, stroking him in a loose fist, your hand warm, the fabric soft.

He nods fervently, the friction and your voice already teetering him towards the edge. He makes a sound of both anguish and relief when you release him, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. You tug his underwear down, his cock bouncing free, engorged and dripping precome.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, bracing one hand on his chest and sliding forward, your other hand moving between your bodies to steady his cock against the rapturously hot press of your soaked cunt. His hands fly to your hips, fingertips biting into the softness of your body. You allow him that, focused entirely on the act of taking him into you. The fat head of his cock it slips inside, evoking a sweet little gasp from you, and Homelander fights not to slam in the rest of the way.

Both of your hands fall to his chest, your eyes meeting his. He holds your gaze, mouth twitching around silent sharp breaths. He watches you sink slowly down the length of him, engulfing him in such sublime rapture it’s a wonder he doesn’t come right then and there for the feel of you alone. His grip on your hips flexes and he gives a sharp little thrust up, forgetting himself to the divine feel of your pussy.

“I said don’t move,” you remind him breathlessly. God, you’re beautiful like this. The fluorescent light behind your head haloes you, giving you the look of a debauched angel he plucked from the heavens to have and keep as his own. He expects you to move, to bounce yourself on his cock like you did his mouth and his fingers. He wants to watch your tits bounce, see your face clearly when you come on his cock, but the only part of you that moves is your hand.

His gaze drops and quickly darkens, watching intently as you stroke your clit. The initial contact alone makes you jerk, makes your pussy spasm and squeeze him so good he almost chokes on it. Your only response is to sigh, tipping your head back and spreading your legs a little wider, taking him deeper. He wants so badly to fuck you, to slam you down and rail you until your desk cracks in half.

“Mmmm, fuck,” you moan, rubbing yourself in circles, the lewd noise of it loud and irresistible to his ears. “Fuck, fuck–ah, god,” you start to pant, head falling forward, brows tightly pinched. You’re so sensitive after the assault of his mouth, the flavor of you still fresh on his tongue. The faster your fingers move, the closer he feels you get, the clench around his cock steadily tightening. He wants to thrash, but you keep him pinned in place with your look of expectation and pleasure. You’re getting off on him as much as you are your own fingers, on the swell and throb of his cock inside you, on the sheer power you hold over a god.

You’re loud when you come, nails clawing into the chest of his suit. Homelander’s eyes roll back, lips parted on a soundless cry of his own. The spasming heat of your release is too much and he loses himself to it, eyes flaring up with crimson light as he comes with you, every shudder of your climax stroking and milking him of his own, flooding you with his own wet mess.

His restraint breaks with the dam and he sits up abruptly, startling a noise from you, which he swallows with a hard kiss, cupping the back of your head. He holds you still and he fucks you, lifting from the desk entirely so that he alone supports your weight, driving you deeper onto his cock. Your legs tighten on either side of him, shaking. 

Out of his mind with pleasure, he tears your blouse open with his teeth, diving in close to lick, suck and bite at your chest. He buries his face between your breasts, holding you tightly as he fucks you both through your respective orgasms, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing obscenely in your office. 

Hitching your legs properly around his waist, he bounces you on his cock until the pleasure borders on pain and a secondary shock rolls through him like another orgasm, stealing his breath. Only then does he finally slow, mouthing languidly at your chest until he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He moans against you, grinding to an eventual halt. You comb your fingers through his hair and goosebumps erupt across his body, which shivers in the euphoric aftermath.

He loses track of how long he stays suspended like that, lost to the overwhelm of sensation. Your legs go slack while his angles slightly upward, his face pressed to your chest, your head resting atop his. He nuzzles at you, bleary eyed and slack with pleasure. He kisses a trail up to your clavicle, your throat, your jaw, smiling in the loose, easy way that only a good fuck can never make him.

“Wow,” he says after a while, voice thoroughly frayed.

You giggle, groggily lifting your head. He adjusts until you can relax against his chest, fold your forearms across it and settling your chin atop them, admiring him. He touches your face with his ungloved hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb, then the curve of your bottom lip. His smile widens when you kiss the pad of his thumb.

“Wow indeed,” you say, swinging your legs lightly. “Can’t say I’ve ever been fucked mid-air.”

“One of the many benefits of dating me,” he purrs, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. He kisses you again, drifting slowly back down, unhurried.

Your brows lift lazily. “Who says we’re dating?” You ask, but your smile keeps his hackles from rising.

“Me,” he says, eyes crinkled at the corners. He lands gently on the desk, helping you to it. “You and I are officially going steady.”

You give a thoughtful hum, carefully untangling your limbs from his. You slide off of the desk while he puts himself back together, your knees trembling faintly. “Fairly sure asking someone out requires a question mark. You know. The asking part. You didn’t even buy me dinner.” You attempt to button up your shirt, but it’s obviously a lost cause.

He exhales a quiet laugh, pulling you back into his arms. “Well, I certainly ate.”

“God,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, but they don’t stray from him for long. There’s a sparkle to your gaze that he wants to capture in his palm and never set loose.

“Will you go out with me?” He asks, lips brushing yours.

“Mmmmmmmm….” You hum once more, drawing it out, feigning a great deliberation. “There’s something you should know first.”

He quirks a brow. “What’s that?”

“My guilty pleasure,” you say, nose bumping his.

Intrigued, he inclines his head to prompt you to continue. Can’t be worse than mine.

“Superheroes,” you say conspiratorially. “Can’t get enough of them. Loved them my whole life. Especially this one in particular…”

He breaks into a frayed, charmed laugh. “Let me guess, name starts with an H?”

You suck in a breath through your teeth, lips curved downward in a mock grimace, and nod subtly. “ Total fangirl. Embarrassing, right?”

Homelander shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never felt guilty about pleasure. Where’s the harm in it?”

The harm inflicted on those thugs couldn’t count. They had it coming.

“Harm to my pride, my ego, my reputation,” you list, tapping his suit to punctuate each one. “I made a pretty big fuss about not liking you. I had myself convinced that my Homelander only existed in my fantasies, and you were just the guy who plays him.”

My Homelander. The words stir an unexpectedly sentimental surge of emotion that wells up from somewhere deep in his chest. He clears his throat lightly. “What’s the verdict now?”

You sweep him with an appraising gaze. “Still deliberating.”

He clicks his tongue, nodding. “I don’t suppose I could arrange a meeting with the jury?”

“They’re available for dinner tomorrow,” you say, the tilt of your lips sly. 

“It’s a date,” he murmurs, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You kiss him, pressing your smile to his. He doubts he’ll ever tire of the softness of your lips, or the easy way you melt against him. He wraps his arms around you, content to let this moment pass only because he knows there will be more to come. He’s determined to make every one of them better than the last.

All of the pleasure, none of the guilt.

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter three ⭐︎ So if you need to be mean, be mean to me

Warnings: angst angst angst! mean!Steve, bitchy!reader, slight allusions to unrequited love, mentions of Vecna and the upside down, argument, Steve being a dick to reader. and before anyone comes at me with the 'but your Steve is so ooc! he isn't mean anymore' this is a fic, this is enemies to lovers, you see the mean!Steve warnings, you know what you're getting yourself into.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve had buried his past self, King Steve was dead, but all it took was a little push for him to make a small appearance again, to rain nothing but chaos upon his already weak 'friendship' with you. You pushed him, and you did it a little too hard.

Word count: 5k+

Author's note: Big big biggest shoutout to my bestie @hellfire--cult for helping me and writing those evil evil lines, you're the best

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next chapter

♡

He regrets waking up that day.

He regrets saying yes to Robin and the kids to hang out.

He regrets picking up Max’s phone call. 

If he wouldn’t have done any of these things, he wouldn’t be where he is right now. 

Parked in front of your house so he can drive you both to Robin’s. 

It’s been a week since the day at his place, a week since you had stormed out of his house, a week since he had last seen you. It almost feels weird. He can’t even remember the last time he had gone without seeing you this long. If you’re not hanging out with the group, he sees you going into the coffee shop across from Family Video every afternoon. Sometimes you even run into each other at Bradley’s Big Buy, but since last Saturday, he hasn’t seen you anywhere – it’s almost as though you had disappeared. Maybe he would have worried if it wasn’t for Max and El gushing over your shopping trip to Indianapolis the other day, he panicked when they told him that, thinking that you were driving again when you still weren’t allowed to, but El had calmed him down, telling him that you used the train. 

With a sigh, he gets out of the car. He runs his fingers through his hair out of nervousness. He rings the doorbell and takes a step back, staring at the wooden door. 

How will you even react to seeing him here? 

You’re surely expecting Eddie, not him. 

The door opens after a moment, revealing you on the other side, looking as beautiful as always – unfortunately. You’re wearing a white top, the soft pink stripes matching the color of your glossy lips, your skin looking soft and glowy as the sun shines into your house, the fading bruises are almost all gone, finally. The scent of your perfume, something sweet and flowery invades his space, and he can’t help but inhale it, feeling warmth blooming in his chest. 

He takes you in, the way you look beneath the sun rays, the way your dainty necklace lies so prettily on your chest, the way your lashes touch your skin as you blink at him. 

The smile on your face instantly fades away when you lock eyes with him, the usual grumpy frown takes over instead, that pulls him back into reality. 

“The fuck are you doing here?” 

Yeah, you’re only pretty and cute when you keep your mouth shut. 

He clenches his jaw, trying not to show how annoyed he is already. 

“Picking you up.” 

You furrow your brows at him, “what? Where’s Eddie?” 

“He forgot about his Doctor’s appointment, he had to rush out. Max called me and told me to pick you up.” 

“Oh,” you nod and you stare at him for a long moment before a smile appears on your face, “she told you, huh?” 

Caught off guard by the smile on your face, he stays quiet, only nodding at your words. 

You chuckle to yourself, turning away from him to pick up your jacket and your keys. Surprising him by not fighting him, you step out of the house and close the door. You look him up and down, eying the keys in his hand. 

“Can I drive your car?” You ask, tilting your head, “I promise I’ll take better care of it than you ever could.”

He snorts at your words, looking at you with an expression that almost makes you laugh. 

“With that head injury? Yeah, not a fucking chance, Blondie.” 

Rolling your eyes, you brush past him, already making your way over to his car. 

“It’s been like what… a month? I’m all healed, I’m feeling peachy.” 

“A month and you still get dizzy and don’t even lie about it.”

Once again, you keep quiet instead of throwing a smartass remark back, it makes him furrow his brows at you. Instead of opening the door, he leans his elbow on the roof of his car, looking over at you curiously. 

You open the door and put one foot in before you halt when you notice him staring. 

“What?” 

“Did you fall on your head or something?” 

You shake your head at him, scrunching your face up. 

“You’re not fighting me, are you feeling okay?” He smirks. 

Scoffing at his words, you flip him off before you get into the car without a single word. 

He taps his fingers against the car, looking up at the blue sky with a smirk that turns into a content smile, he thought the bickering would start the moment you opened that door. Maybe today won’t be so bad. 

Though when he gets into his car and he glances at you, you’re already staring back at him with that certain look in your eyes, the one that tells him everything he needs to know. Your eyes are glimmering with that smugness, the one that’s always there when you’re about to tease him with something that you know will annoy him. 

“Is Nancy gonna be there?” 

“Huh?”

You blink at him innocently as you fasten your seatbelt. 

“Nancy, is she gonna be there? You know, since you only get the chance to be around her during these group hangouts,” you smirk. 

He squints his eyes at you, biting back the bitter words that he was about to throw at you. He turns away and starts the car. 

He backs out of your driveway and without a single word, he starts driving. 

“Must suck being in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same, huh?” 

He stares at the road ahead, blankly. He could swear there was a hint of hurt in your voice. He doesn’t look at you, despite feeling your eyes on him, he doesn’t look and only grips the steering wheel tighter.

“But what would I know,” you snort and he hears you leaning back in the seat, the leather squeaking a little as you try to get more comfortable. 

Yeah, what would you know? He thinks. 

You’re cold and you’re mean – he is certain that there’s not a single trace of love in your heart. How you care that deeply for Max will always remain a mystery to him. 

“Are you a grandpa or something or where is the music!?” 

“You make enough music for us.”

He turns to you for a brief second, to see you scrunching up your face at him, shaking your head in confusion. 

“What’s that supposed to mean, Lego head?” 

“Your yapping and whining is enough for me.”

“Oh, so you’re saying my yapping and whining is music to your ears?” You smirk. “Just say that you love hearing my voice.”

“Shut up,” he murmurs, glaring at you. He clenches his jaw and flicks the button to turn on the music. 

Material Girl by Madonna starts playing and he instantly feels his heart dropping, his cheeks start glowing red – at least, that’s what it feels like. He grows flustered underneath your stare the moment you start laughing. 

“Oh wow, I knew you were a girly girl, Harrington.”

He changes the song, calming down when some Duran Duran song starts playing instead, but you are still laughing, and he can only groan in annoyance, pointing his finger at you, “shut up, Blondie.”

Your face only grows more amused, and this is where the teasing begins and the drive to Robin’s house becomes a torture for him and he practically starts counting down the second till he can finally get out of the car that he usually loves being in. 

He bites his tongue, not saying a single word while you yap away the way you always do. 

What a fool he was for thinking that this day could have been good, you manage to ruin every day of his. 

He can only stay quiet for so long. 

“Do you ever shut up or do I have to make you!?” 

That seems to shut you up. At least, for a moment. When he glances at you with angry eyes, he notices the smug look on your face that still didn’t stray away from you, not even after his words. 

“And how would you do that?” You ask, mockingly. 

He stares at your lips for a moment, clenching his jaw and gripping the gear stick tightly. He looks away as he turns left, pulling up in Robin’s driveway, he parks the car. 

“I have an idea or two,” he mumbles and gets out before you can question him. He almost thinks that his words have stunned you, when you take a moment longer to get out of the car, but when you do and your eyes meet his, you smirk again. 

He starts walking backwards, taking in the sight of you as you walk towards him. Your jeans hug your hips and your legs so perfectly that he begins to hate them. He almost feels ashamed for wanting to see them from the back. His eyes move up to your top, without intending to stare at your cleavage but he does.. and fuck, he hates how attracted his body is to you. 

“So cocky and for what?” You chuckle as you brush past him, not noticing his staring. 

Steve’s cheeks are red, his eyes instantly fall down to your butt when he turns around to follow you onto the porch. You move your hips and he has to clench his jaw.

It’s really a shame that he can’t stand you. 

You ring the doorbell and patiently wait for Robin to open, you don’t spare him a glance, you don’t even turn around to tease him any further, he doesn’t mind it though, it gives him the chance to keep looking at you. Your skin looks soft and he sometimes catches himself wondering what it would feel like to touch you, it’s glowing and he can’t help but ask himself whether it’s because of the body cream that you put on or if it’s just this pretty on it’s own – not that he ever imagines you putting lotion on your body after a shower, definitely not. 

“Oh great, you didn’t kill each other!” Robin’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he quickly looks away from you, clearing his throat. 

Robin grabs your hand and pulls you into her house, only throwing a glance over her shoulder at him, “come on in Dingus, you know the way.” 

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he walks in, watching the way his best friend pays more attention to you than to him. Not only did you nestle your way into his friend group, you had also seemingly nestled your way into Robin’s heart. He watches the friendship between you slowly blossoming and he can’t help but feel jealous of that. 

He stays back in the hallway for a moment, preparing for a long evening with you. 

He hears Robin talking your ear off already, Max and Lucas are in the kitchen too. But no one else is around. Nancy and Jonathan are on a date, he knows that, Jonathan gushed about it to Argyle before he left the other day and Steve couldn’t help but eavesdrop when he heard them talking about Nancy. The other teens are off doing god knows what. So much for the weekly group hangouts. 

He hears your laughter and he can’t help but roll his eyes. It’s not the kind of laugh that he ever gets, no, whenever you laugh with or at him, it’s like you’re mocking him or making fun of him – not that he cares, he does the same to you. It’s your thing. 

But for some reason it bothers him to hear and see you laughing like this with the others. 

You get along with Robin, you get along with Eddie, you get along with the teens – hell, you even get along with Nancy even though you glared daggers at each other that day at skull rock.

With him, you’re either grumpy and rude or you’re just a snappy smug brat – which seems to be the case today. 

Steve walks into the kitchen, putting on a smile to greet Max and Lucas with. 

“Hey,” Max mumbles grumpily, only shooting him a brief and very forced smile before she goes back to her deep conversation with you. 

Another grump, he thinks to himself. It’s not a surprise that the snappy teen likes you so much, you’re both the same person. 

Lucas greets him with a handshake and a friendly smile, something that two of the three girls in this room should learn. 

“Are you coming to my game next friday?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Steve nods. 

“You can bring her,” Lucas wiggles his brows at him, gesturing to you with a wink, “as a date,” he whispers.

Steve scrunches his face up, as though he is disgusted by the thought of it – like he wasn’t just checking you out on the porch. 

“You’re joking, right?” He mumbles as he looks over Lucas’s shoulder, glancing at you. 

“No,” Lucas crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head, “you are awfully mean to her, which means that you must like her.” 

Steve’s eyes widen and he looks over at you again, in sheer panic, hoping that you didn’t just hear the ridiculous words that have left Lucas’s mouth. You’re too distracted by whatever story Max is telling you though, looking back and forth between her and Robin. 

He looks back at Lucas to see him staring smugly. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Isn’t that what you said to Dustin when he asked you for girls advice?” He snorts, shaking his head once again, “‘the key with girls is acting like you don’t care���” Lucas mocks quietly, chuckling after that. 

Steve sighs, putting his hand on his hip, “he told you that?” 

Lucas leans closer, “he sure did,” he smirks as he turns his head to glance at you before her turns back around, “I remembered it the other day, and it had me thinking–”

“Alright,” Steve interrupts him, he places his hands on his shoulders, “stop that, Sinclair.”

Lucas laughs, eying the flustered look on Steve’s face, who shoots him another glare before he steps away. He clears his throat, looking at the kitchen island where Robin had already prepared all the snacks. 

He grabs two bowls, glancing back at Lucas, “help me carry the snacks over to the living room, man. These ladies are too busy gossiping,” he says, expecting you to turn around and throw a comment back at him, but you don’t. 

Robin squints her eyes, nodding at him, “don’t give us the sass, Dingus.”

Lucas chuckles at her, he walks over to the kitchen island, reaching for the bowl of sour gummies and the M&M’s, “when is Steve ever not sassy?” 

At that, you finally turn to face them, a smirk tugging at your lips, you don’t have to say anything to show him that you agree with Lucas. 

He only rolls his eyes at you, no further words needed as he leaves the kitchen, stepping into the living room with Lucas trailing behind.  

“Wow, you didn’t even say anything to her.”

Steve has to roll his eyes again, the teasing in his voice isn’t very subtle. He opens his mouth to speak when the doorbell rings and Lucas rushes out of the room before he can even move or say anything. 

“Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” Lucas says after opening the front door. 

“Found him on the side of the road.” Steve hears Eddie’s voice. 

“Oh you two are such jokesters. You think I’d miss out on game night?” Dustin’s voice sounds through the hallway. “What are we even playing?” 

Robin replies enthusiastically as she walks into the living room with Dustin by her side and Eddie tagging along, greeting Steve with a grin. 

“Oh boy, the board’s definitely getting flipped today,” Dustin laughs.

Steve raises his brows, “you mean you will flip the board?” 

Dustin tilts his head as he looks at his older friend, his smile turning into a playful frown, “hello to you too, Steve.” 

“Henderson.” 

Dustin claims the loveseat before anyone else can, slumping down with a grin on his face, he reaches for one of the sour gummies in the bowl. 

“What’s wrong? Did your phone date not go so well with your girlfriend?” Steve teases. 

“At least I have a girlfriend,” Dustin winks at him. 

As you walk into the room, Lucas faces Steve again, with a teasing grin, “what do you mean, he’s got one too, she’s right there.” 

Dustin gives him a funny look before he turns around with furrowed eyebrows, confusion flashing in his eyes before they widen and he turns back to look at a very unimpressed Steve. 

“What!? You two are dating?” He shrieks loud enough for you to freeze in your spot. 

Steve closes his eyes, shaking his head at him. 

“Huh?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes at Dustin, “Henderson, I think that Sinclair might have a little too much imagination over there.” 

Lucas only shrugs, still grinning. 

“You’re playing matchmaker with the wrong people,” Robin laughs, looking between you and Steve. 

“Absolutely,” Eddie chuckles, sitting down on the couch next to her. 

“Can we just play the game now?” You ask as both you and Max sit down on the ground in front of the board game that Robin had already put out. 

“Ooh, we’re playing Ludo?” Dustin asks. 

Everyone nods, everyone except for Robin. 

“What?” She chuckles, cupping her cheek as she looks around, “that’s Wahoo.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head at her, “Wahoo?” 

“That’s what the game is called,” Robin says, pointing to the board. 

Steve watches the way you shake your head in confusion, slightly pouting as you stare at her. Fuck… you almost look cute. 

As Eddie reaches for the dice, he throws it up in the air, catching it between two fingers, “this game is called Sorry! my friends,” he smirks, cockily. “We only need four players so who goes first?” 

Lucas, who starts scarving down the snacks, waves a hand at Eddie, “I’ll sit this round out,” he says with a mouthful of chips. 

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth!” Max rolls her eyes at him. 

“Red, Dustin, Robin and Steve go first,” Eddie says. “The master has spoken, now let the games begin,” he says in his deep voice. 

Steve rolls his eyes at him, “this isn’t D&D dude, we don’t need a master.”

“Still.”

“Okay!” Robin claps her hands together, “let’s play!”

And as the game started, everyone laughed, everyone was having fun, everyone was joking around, it was all lighthearted. Dustin was throwing tantrums in his team with Robin, while Eddie snickered. Robin was a loser, and she accepted that she sucked at this game, competing against a bunch of stubborn teens. She was the first to sit out and stop playing. Max and Lucas preferred to stay out after the first few rounds, amused by watching the gameplay. 

And then, Steve and you were outright competing as if it were a championship. Neither of you even noticed that it was only you two left, everyone else stopped playing a while ago, watching this intense competition instead. 

While you took it all with ease, teasing him with a few jabs here and there whenever he was losing against you, Steve took it all a little more seriously. Because the moment he lost against you more than once, the anger in him started rising – not because of the game, but because of the looks you were giving him, those smug and cocky looks, the comments that weren’t even that bad – but everything, everything about you was pissing him off this day. 

Your attitude this morning, your comments, your jabs, your arrogance, you’ve been getting on his nerves from the moment you got into his car. 

And right now, he can feel his chest heaving, burning in anger and frustration. 

His jaw is clenched, his eyes are hurting from the intense glares that you start giving each other. 

Neither of you feel the eyes of the others on you two, the nervous glances, the warning ones because everyone knows what will follow after this. 

You both want to win against the other so desperately and currently, it’s a tie between the two of you. He won three rounds, you won three rounds – this apparently will be the last one, this one will decide who will win this very meaningless, stupid game. 

But Robin can’t take it any longer, she can’t keep watching the two of you getting angrier each passing second, knowing that this round will only lead to another, and both you and Steve could sit here all night, because you are both stubborn brats when it comes to each other – as it seems. 

“Okay!” Robin throws her hands up, snatching the dice from Steve’s hand that he was just about to throw, “can you two stop? It’s a tie, move on!” 

You and Steve look away from one another, raising your heads to look at Robin who glares at the two of you. 

“We’ll finish and then we’re done!” 

Steve groans at your words. 

“No!” Robin shakes her head, “because one will win and the other won’t, and then it’s a fucking mess, so stop playing! You fought interdimensional monsters together, for fucks sake!”

“Right, that doesn’t mean anything.” Steve rolls his eyes before he looks back at you, only to see your face fall. 

He almost feels guilty. You risked your life out there, not only for Max and Lucas but also for him. 

“That doesn’t mean anything!? Well aren’t you fucking grateful, Harrington.”

“Everyone fought, not just you, don’t think you’re all high and mighty,” he mumbles through the anger that he is still feeling.

A part of him is begging to just move on and keep his mouth shut, but he is frustrated, not just because of the game, but because of you, every small comment from you reminds him of how much he can’t stand you. 

“Hey, hey, hey, break it up,” Eddie says as he gets up from the couch, raising his hands up as he takes in the hurt but angry look in your eyes. 

You shake your head, “no, no, let him keep going! I want to hear what this bastard with his hero complex has to say to me.” 

Eddie can see the way Steve is fuming, the way the anger in his eyes gets stronger and stronger. He stands up, moving closer to you as you get up as well. 

“You fought with us once. Once! And you think that makes you equal to us!? You have no idea what we all went through, you have no idea the people we lost along the way, you know nothing!” He snaps at you, ignoring the way you draw back as your eyes fill with something he can’t read. 

Max straightens up in her seat, already reaching for her crutches as her eyes widen, seeing the way your lips twitch as blink up at Steve. 

“Steve, stop!” 

If he wasn’t so angry, he would have heard the fear in Max’s voice, something that normally would’ve made him draw back in an instant. 

You glance at her, shaking your head, yet again. “No, Max, it’s okay.” You turn back to face him, looking into his eyes coldly – that’s the only look he knows, that’s the one he cannot stand. “What does Steve Harrington know about loss!?” 

Steve feels his gut twisting, he clenches his jaw but doesn’t answer your question, he keeps staring at you. 

“What? Mom and Dad left you the whole house to yourself, and you consider that loss!?” You frown, lifting your arm, you gesture to the people in the room. “I see Robin alive, I see Eddie alive, I see all of the kids alive, so who exactly did you fucking lose, Harrington?” 

Behind the anger and the emptiness in your eyes, is sadness and pain, something he can’t see through the haze that he is in, right now. All he sees is something, someone he hates, someone who acts like she knows everything, someone who does nothing but bring chaos and anger into his heart and into a friends group that is so sacred to him. 

He never felt this angry before, not even when he found Nancy with Jonathan, not even when she cheated on him and left, not during a single fight with his dad, nothing had ever made him feel such rage. 

“You are so fucking horrible!” He snaps at you, not caring about anything, right this second. Everyone in the room disappears, Dustin, Max and Lucas are no longer there, and neither are Robin and Eddie, it’s just you and him now. “I hate the fucking day we ran into you at Skull Rock! You are the most despicable and cold hearted bitch I’ve ever met! I would be surprised if you ever loved somebody!” 

He can’t see the shock or the pain that nestles into your features. 

He doesn’t even hear the gasps from the others in the room. 

“Steve!” Max yells, reminding him of the fact that she is there, that everyone else is here too. 

The girl almost falls over when she jumps up. Lucas stands up as well, steadying her before she can fall. They both look at you, both of them see the hurt in your eyes, the way you helplessly stare back at the guy that you risked your life for. 

Robin and Eddie stare at him in disbelief, not knowing the Steve that they are looking at, right now. 

All that Steve can see is red though. 

“No, Mayfield, let me fucking finish because she needs to understand how terrible she is.” He practically spits in your face, not tearing his eyes away from yours, at all. “I-I mean, don’t you ever ask yourself why you don’t have anyone? Why no one bothers to stick around because I’d be really surprised if someone did – even more, I would be surprised if anyone ever loved you at all. You’re not someone easy to fucking love, Blondie. Trust me on that.” 

And the moment those words fall from his lips, the room falls silent, dead silent. His heart stops racing and his skin runs cold. Suddenly, he is brought back into the room, the haze fleeting away more and more and he can now see clear again. 

And as he looks at you, really looks at you, his heart drops to his stomach and every trace of anger is gone, replaced by a guilt he had never felt before. 

Your eyes are filled with tears as you stare at him with nothing but pain, not a single trace of coldness in them, not a single trace of anger or indifference or even hate for the man in front of you. All he can see is pain, pain, pain.. Your tears are welling up more and more, threatening to spill down your cheeks. Your throat bobbed up and down, like you are trying to gulp down the ball of nerves and sobs threaten to fall from your lips. 

For a split second, he can see through you and he sees something there never was before – something that tells him that you would let him do this, until he’d get enough of hurting you, that you would let him break you, little by little. But, he had enough. 

You look down as your bottom lip starts to tremble. 

As he sees that, Steve feels like the most horrible person on the planet. Worse than his dad, worse than the monsters he had fought, worse than Vecna. 

What had prompted him to throw such awful and vile words at you? 

The guilt that takes over almost feels unbearable and the moment he wants to take back those words, to apologize, you are already gone. 

Lucas calls out to you, but the slamming of the front door is all he gets back. 

Before Steve can even look around the room, his back is slammed against the nearest wall and he is met by the sight of an angry Eddie, his eyes darker than ever, nose flaring as he grips the collars of his polo, pressing him harshly against the wall. 

“I would fucking punch you in the face right now, Harrington. Don’t forget who was the first person to jump into the water to save your ass!” He yells at him, giving him one final push that knocks the breath out of him before Eddie lets go and leaves to go after you. 

Steve looks down, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath. 

“Steve… what the fuck?” Dustin mumbles, softly, staring at his older friend in disappointment. 

Robin looks around the room, before her eyes lock on Steve, she looks at him in confusion, not understanding where all of this came from. 

“Dingus.. what the hell was that? Why did you–”

“Everyone leave the room.” 

It’s Max’s voice that sounds through the room, awfully calm. So calm that it takes everyone aback. 

Lucas stares at his girlfriend, completely confused. 

All it takes is a single look from her though and he and Dustin scatter out of the room. Dustin pulls Robin along who protests at first but follows when she looks back at Max, who only shakes her head. 

It’s silent for a long minute, and Steve doesn’t know what to feel. 

“That was fucked up, Steve.” Max says. 

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, fighting the tears that threaten to build up. 

Not only did he hurt you, something he never thought was even possible. He also showed his friends a side of him he wanted to keep buried. A side that surely makes them feel less safe around him now. 

“I-I know, I don’t.. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” 

Max purses her lips, looking down at the ground to avoid eye contact. 

“She may not have been with us from the start, hell, I wasn’t either. It doesn’t mean that she didn’t experience it just the same. She may not have fought monsters, Steve. But the monsters have gotten to her without her knowing about them.” 

You fought monsters, you fought the bats off of him. 

He snaps his head up, staring at her with a frown on his face.  

“Max I–”

The redhead shakes her head, anger and disappointment still on her face. 

“I’m not the one you have to apologize to. I will not tell you her story, I’m not allowed to do that. But you are wrong, you are terribly wrong about everything you just said about her.” 

She reaches for her crutches, giving him one final look before she leaves the room. 

He stares at the ground with a gnawing feeling in his chest, hating himself more and more as the seconds go by. 

The look you gave him will haunt him for the rest of his life. 

How could he ruin everything in the span of a few minutes? 

How could he not see the hurt in your eyes after only the first words that he threw at you? 

How could he not see the vulnerable side of you? 

How was he so blinded by the act you had put on? 

He judged a book by its cover, just like King Steve had done in the past. There is no excuse. No fucking excuse for what he had done to you. 

♡

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @livosssblog

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : Thank you guys for dropping messages 🧡 I really really appreciate them and I love interacting w/ u guys 🥺. If you have questions or anything u want to say to me~ go ahead and don’t be shy.

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Warnings : Cursing , Grammatical Errors

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 11 | Next >

skysportsf1

liked by user1 and others

skysportsf1 P3 for Oscar! Catch up with the interview with our Fav Aussie in Papaya

user1 This interview was filled with so much tension (?) I can’t explain it.

user2 Osc looks like his both happy and at the same time angry??

user3 YES EXACTLY. Boy was seething and so uncomfortable when he was asked about Lando and Mclaren… then he was all smiles for the last question??

user4 “i’m paid to race, so I’ll race” OK SIR 🥶

user5 Oscar said fuck Lando’s race, I’m driving for myself

user6 Kimi Raikkonen is back y’all… hello Ice man

user7 Oscar has the WDC mentality 🔥

user8 A lot will happen?? what will happen huh Oscar Jack Piastri?? tell us.

user9 He is planning smth i swear.

user10 Ok Osc is pissed about Mclaren. That joke about losing his job was so dry, boi was angry fr.

user11 watch out for lap 1 turn 1 tomorrow. Oscar is taking the gap!!

f1wags.

liked by user1 and user2

f1wags Y/N was spotted leaving the Hilton (McLaren’s hotel).

user1 Noooooooooo Y/N pls dont leave! like where are you even going 😭

user2 First Y/N wasnt present in Quali and now she’s leaving the hotel??? what happened to her and Oscar??

user1 pls dont let them end before they even started

user2 I just got to know about them and I refuse to let it go!

user3 Did she leave with her luggage? maybe she went out for smth??

user4 She was spotted carrying her suitcase😭

user5 Lando Norris I swear to everything you love I’ll hunt you down

user6 Seriously, he couldn’t just let Y/N be happy huh? Bro had to cheat and make more problems 🤡

user7 Ik!! Dude stay on your lane. You end ella deserve each other so much

user8 who’s ella?

user9 Oh shes just Y/N’s ex friend that Lando cheated with 🤢. Lando and her really do complement each other so well 🤡

user10 WHY IS THERE A RUMOR THAT Y/N AND OSCAR ARE OVER?!!

user11 I mean if its true and they’re done… they couldnt even last 1 race week together. What kind of relationship is that 🙂

user12 @user11 a normal one?? imagine having so much stress and an ex trying to sabotage your love life.

*incoming call from Osc🧡

Pick up or Decline

Decline

*incoming call from Osc🧡

Pick up or Decline

Decline

*incoming call from Osc🧡

Pick up or Decline

Decline

Notification : you received a message from Osc🧡

*incoming call from Osc🧡

Pick up or Decline

Pick Up

“I’m literally on the way, Osc. stop worrying!”

“I know, I know! I just miss you so much my most beautiful and lovely girlfriend”

“And whose fault was that hmm?”

“Mine…”

“Uhuh, I’ll be over there in a few minutes be patient dum-dum”

“Did John give you the keys to my room?”

“He did. I still can’t believe you got a room next to Charles’s without the rest of McLaren knowing that one of their drivers is not in their hotel”

“Well that one of the pros of them only caring about Lando’s ass”

“Thank you McLaren favoritism. I still can’t fucking believe that they’re ordering you around for personal matters”

“Yeah, fucking unbelievable. I thought Alpine was the worst. What employer has the right to dictate their driver’s personal decisions? they’re fucking crazy.”

“But are you sure you want to disobey orders? We could always keep us lowkey…”

“Screw lowkey and screw team orders! I’m not keeping us a secret!”

“As long as you want it Osc, I’m ok with anything as long as i’m with you”

“I’m perfectly sure, Dear”

“Ok. Oh! I’m near the hotel.”

“I’ll fetch you in the lobby alright?”

“mhm. Bye ~ love you!”

“love you more”

call ended

Y/N. close friends 3m

story replies

oscarpiastri am i forgiven then my luv? 🥺

Y/N. Hell nah, im still making you work for it 😌

oscarpiastri We have our whole lives, take your time~ im not leaving baby. Till death do us part girl.

Y/N. Wtf, i’m your girlfriend for hours and ur thinking about marriage???

oscarpiastri Yes. ur meeting my parents next week 🥰😘

Y/N. I have no words Oscar Jack Piastri

oscarpiastri an I do would be great

Y/N. I cant with you HAHAHAHAHA i love you so much. thank you for not giving up on us

oscarpiastri I love you so much more and I’m not making the mistake of letting you go.

danielricciardo Girl you were just crying yesterday I-

Y/N. ok now i’m crying for a different reason

danielricciardo I dont want to hear your sex life with Osc. pls dont 😷

Y/N. DANNY WTF NOT THAT 😩. I meant I’m crying tears of joy… I’m not going to talk about my sex life with u tf

danielricciardo that’s what i meant stupid! ur like a sister to me. Get u and oscs germs away from me🤢

Y/N. Stfu dweeb 🤓.

danielricciardo thank fuck that u two straightened things out . You two owe me big time for being ur messenger 😤

Y/N. yeah yeah~ thanks danny 😘🧡

danielricciardo I’m not kidding, you OWE me 🤡

y/bf DAMN OK. I expected an update but not this . Holy damn Y/N! so you and osc are good then?

Y/N. We areeeeee… and its official~ 🙈

y/bf Oh thank goodness!! Im so glad y/nieee 😭. I was about to book a flight too, you bitch!

Y/N. Really?? ughh you really do love me.

Y/bf are you happy?

Y/N. Yes. I really am .. and I think Osc and I need a to label our relationship. sooo yeahh~ let more drama pour, at least now we know where we stand.

f1wags.

liked by user1 and others

f1wags. Y/N is in the paddock for the race 🧡

user1 Y/N FINALLY!! girl ur lack of attendance made us worry!! pls tell us u and osc are ok???

user2 The 2 days you’ve been gone in the paddock made everyone crazy! Theories of breakups and come backs are spread 😭

user3 Y/N strutting back in the paddock like nothing happened ~ Ok slay. I need that type of confidence

user4 Fr, Y/N waltzing in like she didn’t just drop a literal diss track on Lando

user5 As she should 💅

user6 THAT FIT THO 🥵🔥

user7 she ain’t dressing Lowkey Y’all . She’s here and she’s ready to serve!

user8 when Oscar said things are happening? things are HAPPENING and it starts with Y/N L/N.

user9 Ok Y/N! show them what’s up.

user10 McLaren can’t stop this girl.

Y/N. 45m

story replies

oscarpiastri Thank you Baby 🧡

Y/N. That overtake in turn 1 was so good Osc!! I got goosebumps

oscarpiastri ur only saying that cuz I got Lando down into P4 with my move

Y/N. NO you just were amazing! ngl i did enjoy throwing Lando out 👹

oscarpiastri I did promise a show 😉 and speaking of shows~ I need to go to our de breifing and watch them clown around.

Y/N. Okay! I’ll be with Alex at Ferrari. Call me when you need meeee. Bye luv.

* at McLaren motorhome, driver debriefing room.

-what the fuck was that at turn 1 Oscar?!-

-That’s what you call racing, I saw a gap and I took it-

-You cost me my race. That podium should be mine-

-Not my fault you bottled your first lap, now is it?-

-OK STOP. Oscar you should think about the team! Lando was on pole!-

-Funny how that works. You hired me to drive and I did. I got you your podium and points for your constructors-

-Follow team orders! that’s your fucking job-

-What you expect me to sit still and take it?-

-Yes, Oscar. That’s how this team works-

- Tsk and that goes for personal matters too?-

-Ah, so that’s what it is? This is about Y/N. Are you worried that she’ll see you as the loser you are?-

-Not at all, specially when I don’t get babied by the team. Tell me how does it feel like kissing up the boss’ ass? -

- FUCK YOU! -

-THAT’S ENOUGH. Oscar you should know when to stop! You’re still new here… learn your place and follow orders exactly as stated — and that goes with Y/N L/N keep your distance or face the consequences -

- Watch me -

*Incoming call from Osc🧡

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

“Hi Osc! are you done?”

“Dear, do you trust me?”

“What?…. about what?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes. I do”

“Ok. Baby we’re going public”

Extra A/N: hihihi did I scare you with the false breakup?? 🤭

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Eighteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/ spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT, period sex, brief mention of cannibalism/maggots[All possible tags listed, all may not apply] warning: suicidal ideation

Info: Anakinnnn your misogyny is showing, he’s insanely manipulative like so much more than normal[diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread.MDNI 18+

September 16th 4:00ish am

Anakin returned from the shower quickly, his dark hair being ruffled up with his towel as he walked into the bedroom where you waited for him, tucked in on your side of the bed with the tv still playing softly in the background.

“Ready to talk?” Anakin gave you a lopsided smile, crawling up on the bed and joining you under the covers. He leaned back against the headboard and pulled you close, up under his arm.

“Ready.” You nodded quietly, unsure of where this conversation was headed and if you even wanted to find out.

“You look a little green around the gills sweetheart, you okay?” He asked, petting your cheek with the back of his hand.

“I’m okay Ani, I’m just… anxious I guess.” You said softly, trying to reassure him with a small smile but only making him worry more by your reaction.

“Hey, don’t stress.” He said, kissing the top of your head, nuzzling into your hair. “It’s nothing scary.”

“Look, I know I should’ve told you this a long time ago.” He whispered, holding your hand and running his thumb over your knuckles. “I love you and I promise I’ll understand if you get upset after hearing this. You’ve every right to punch me in the face.”

“I’m not gonna punch you in the face.” You breathed a little laugh.

“That’s yet to be decided.” He sighed, squeezing you against his chest with his free arm. “So, you remember how my mom was all odd about stuff when you met her?”

“I wouldn’t say she was ‘odd’ about stuff.” You shook your head and opened your mouth to speak again, but you were interrupted.

“She was much more odd when she called me over for a side bar.” He chuckled, using his forefinger and thumb to tilt your face up by your chin. “She was pissed off that I hadn’t told you that I take a few daily meds.

“Anakin! What if something had happened and I didn’t know, you could-“

“I’m not a closet diabetic or anything, it’s nothing too serious, I won’t die without it.” He stopped you by rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Cute that you thought of that though.”

“It’s cute that I worried my boyfriend could’ve died?” You huffed.

“From my point of view yeah.” He smiled, his dimple making an appearance.

“Back to the seriousness though, princess.” He said softly. “I take a mood stabilizer, I ran out and I have to go see my doctor to get the prescription refilled. I’ll have to start seeing them every month again.” He sighed, almost wincing in preparation for your response.

“That’s it?” You asked with eyebrows in a low confused swoop. “That’s what you’re worried I’d punch you in the face for? Anakin that’s not even worth a flick to the forehead.” You snorted.

“You’re not mad?” He asked, surprised.

“I’m annoyed, irritated.” You admitted, pulling your lips into a sideways frown. “You could’ve just told me. I wouldn’t have judged you for it. That’s silly.”

“You’re not mad, like at all?” He repeated himself as though he expected this to be an argument.

“No I’m not mad.” You shook your head. “Disappointed that you didn’t think you could tell me… yes.”

“Oh sweetheart it’s not that I-“ he groaned, pressing his hands over his eyes. “I wish I would’ve told you to begin with. It’s just that I’ve had some negative reactions before and I guess I wanted to make sure you were in it for the long haul… you know?”

“I just didn’t expect that I’d be having to tell you because I’ve been a fucking asshole.” He said apologetically. “I think that’s why I’m so surprised. Baby, I’ve not been myself but I promise I’ll be right back to where I should be after my appointment okay?”

“Do you want me to come with you?” You asked, trying to offer him support.

“What? Why would you want to-“

“Because you’re my boyfriend and I care about you?” You said a bit more sharply than intended, your hand on his chest.

“I… well,” he swallowed as though he were more nervous now than he was to begin with. “It’s just that I’ll have to you know; talk about stuff with my doctor.”

“Mhm, yeah that’s what you do at a doctors appointment.” You nodded with a smirk.

“Smartass.” He huffed. “Anyway, I suppose you’re owed at least that aren’t you? After not having known about it.”

“Anakin that’s ridiculous you don’t ‘owe’ me anything because of this.” You laughed tiredly. “If you don’t want me to go I won’t, I just wanted to offer support.

“You’re an Angel you know that?” He grinned, pulling you into his chest and wiggling around until he was laying on his back with your head tucked under his chin. “You can come with me. If you don’t mind sitting in the waiting room.”

“Are you kidding? I love waiting rooms, seven year old magazines, weird little old lady asleep in the corner, secretary who plays solitaire instead of working…” You grinned.

“Man you’re making me wanna trade places.” He clicked his tongue with a chuckle.

“So, what’s your diagnosis?” You asked after a silent moment, changing the subject back to the serious side of the topic.

“What?” He stiffened, shifting to look over at you, his chin tucked against his shoulder.

“Well you’re on a mood stabilizer, what’s your diagnosis? It’s not a big deal, my sister’s husband has bipolar.” You shrugged, noticing the way his energy grew colder.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your b-“ he started, stopping to breathe through his nose. “Sorry.”

“I just hate labeling stuff like that you know? There’s such a stigma around mental health. It’s a chemical imbalance in my brain, not a fucking mind controlling parasite or something scary like that.” He grumbled, lips in a thin line while he clenched his teeth.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset or-“

“I’m not upset!” He snapped and let out a burst of air from his nostrils. “I’m not- not upset. I just don’t want this to be a thing you know?”

“A thing?” You questioned.

“Yeah. A thing, an issue, a problem.” He clarified, rolling his eyes. “It’s always been something that everyone blames shit on. I wake up grumpy ‘Anakin did you take your medicine?’. I complain about standing in a line at the fucking coffee shop ‘Ani, sweetie, are you doing okay?’. I don’t answer the phone on the first ring ‘Ani! I was so worried. Do you need me to come visit? Take care of things?’. It’s just all a matter of time before-“

“Oh no sir.” You stopped him, a scowl on your face. “Absolutely not. Don’t you dare tell me I’m gonna start nagging you like I’m your mother.”

“That’s not what-“

“No, that’s stupid okay? Listen I know it sucks to be questioned like that but she’s only doing it cause she cares about you.” You said, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Now that I know… I trust you’ll tell me if there’s anything going on I should know about.”

“You don’t answer to your mother anymore and if she or anyone else has questions they can talk to me.” You said sternly. Anakin stared at you, lips parted slightly. Even in the dark you could see his pupils dilate a little more.

“That was hot.” He said, smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “When did you get so bossy?”

“You are the company you keep.” You shrugged, a light smile on your face.

“Callin’ me bossy? Rude.” He chuckled.

“Maybe, maybe not.” You huffed out a little laugh.

”You know…” He whispered, breath warm as it fanned across your cheek, “I could be really bossy if you want.” His voice deep and rumbling in his chest, the vibrations resounding in your own, pressed against his.

”You did so good for me earlier, let me pay you back babydoll.” His husky words stoking the flame in your womb. He shifted, pressing his cock against your hip and grinding, one hand trailing down your back, over your ass and gripping the back of your thigh to pull over him, manhandling you until you perched over his throbbing member. You could feel the heat emanating from it even through your clothes, making your mouth water.

”Ani, it’s so late.” You whispered, nibbling the skin on your lower lip as you prepared to turn him down… again. “I can suck you off if you want.” You offered as an alternative.

“Are you fucking serious? ‘If i want’? You make it sound like a chore.” He groaned frustratedly, gently shoving you off his lap. “You know what? Never mind.”

”I’ll just do it my damn self, like I have been since you came back.” He snapped at you, getting up from the bed and slamming the bedroom door shut as he left the room.

He was much angrier about the denial than you expected, so angry that he was feeling spiteful. Stomping over to the couch he sat himself down and fumed for a moment before deciding a course of action. Looking down at his phone, the album of your many homemade pornos calling his name. He wanted to screen mirror it to the TV, curious if you’d recognize your own moans and sloshing pussy and come running.

He licked his top row of teeth, The devious thought now at the forefront of his mind and there was no stopping him. He grabbed the remote and screen mirrored his phone to the TV, something he’d done a shameful nuimber of times to these very videos without your knowledge. He turned up the sound enough that you could hear it, but the poor neighbors sharing his living room wall would be spared.

He selected one of his favorites and exited the album to prepare the rest of his plan before steeping into action. Anakin tugged at his boxers and spit in the palm of his hand, slicking up his painfully neglected dick, shivering at the feeling of the well deserved friction that you had denied him. Hitting play he watched as Ghost shoved you to your knees on your bedroom floor, wasting no time at all in shoving his cock down your pretty throat and brutalizing your delicate mouth.

He loved the view, being able to see himself doing such things to you. It was as close to an out of body experience he’d ever gotten. He firmly gripped his shaft, spreading his precum over his cockhead with his thumb. Groaning at the feeling of the calloused skin on such a soft, silky, sensitive part of himself. The beautiful noises you made, choking and gagging as you tried to breathe through your nose, it was like he was transported right back to that moment, seeing it in real time all over again.

This part was for him, just a warm up, just enough to get himself more needy than he already was. He wanted to look as pitiful as he felt when you came barreling out of the bedroom to confront him. He edged himself until he was sick of it, until he was so sensitive that his tip leaked, his balls tightened with every few strokes and he felt as though if he didn’t cum he might throw up.

He flicked over to the next video, another favorite, one he watched so often that if it were on DVD the damn thing wouldn’t play anymore. The one time Ghost stripped himself naked for you, let you feel the warmth of his skin against yours. It was dirty, sensual, dare he even say… romantic? He could feel the connection you shared through the screen each and every time he saw it. Imagining what was going on in that stupid little brain of yours when he hears the first gasp, your realization he was baring himself to you. He wondered if you were nervous, if the idea of it scared you, if it made it all the more real for you like it did for him. That barrier of fabric removed, nothing restricting your soft skin from touching his, he wondered if that’s the moment it set in for you that Ghost was more than a fantasy. He was flesh and blood just like you.

——————————————————————————

You sat in bed where Anakin had left you, unable to comprehend his reaction. You stared at the door, expecting him to come back in a moment after he’d cooled off. He’d apologize, you’d forgive him, everything would be fine. After all, you understood the awful mood swings now. This wasn’t entirely your fault. You were just that catalyst.

Though he didn’t come back. You checked your phone in hopes you’d see a message that maybe he was on the fireescape smoking and he’d be right back after his cigarette, ready to hold you as you fell asleep. That’s all you wanted, some comfort. On top of everything else that had happened this past week, you’d started your period. It was no wonder you’d been extra emotional, overly worried and over thinking every minuscule aspect of the goings on in your life. The hands of fate had decided you needed one more punch to the face in the form of blood and pain.

Poetic justice for the blood you’d spilt? Not likely, but it was in close enough in probability for it to have made you laugh the day before yesterday when you’d spotted in your favorite pair of panties.

You had almost calmed yourself from the stress of you current situation when you heard low grunting from the living room, paired with a lewd gagging noise. Porn. He was watching porn rather than taking you up on your offer of oral pleasure. Not only was it a slap to the face, it was a backhanded one at that, realizing it was too loud to be played on his phone. He was replacing you with a pornstar on the hi-def flatscreen in the living room, a perfect picture of a perfect girl that could never be you.

You had half a mind to go in there and ask him what the hell he was thinking, how could he be so cruel… but you stopped yourself. He was fully in his right to watch porn whenever he wanted. Who were you to tell him he couldn’t satisfy himself? That would be insane, it’d be a breach of privacy and a horrible misuse of trust. How awful would you be to tell him to stop when you’ve been fucking around behind his back for the entirety of your relationship?

So you sat and stewed, torturing yourself with images of him touching himself. His large hands, the ripple of muscle in his arm when he stroked his shaft, the noises he made, the way his pretty blue eyes would flutter shut as his head fell back, plump lips being bitten to keep quiet. It was all you could do not to burst into tears. Your couldn’t imagine someone else giving him that kind of pleasure. It made you sick. Even if it was only a woman on screen it felt like betrayal, even more so because he chose her over you.

“You’re a horrible, awful human being” You whispered to yourself, sucking in a breath as the crushing weight of all your transgressions impacted your fragile mind state.

The thought of him feeling this way was more than enough to break your heart. You had no right to cry, not after everything you’ve done. These weren’t your tears threatening to spill. These were Anakin’s. This awful stomach churning, head busting, throat closing pain; was Anakin’s, not yours. This is what he’d feel if he ever discovered what you’d been doing.

He would see the same images you did, only his torturous slideshow would be starring you. Your face scrunching up in pleasure, your mewls and whines as another man fills the sweet pussy he thought belonged only to him. He’d see the flushed face and embarrassed giggle you make when he stares so deeply into your eyes he feels his head swim… then it would be ruined by the thought of someone else doing the very same. Someone else making you cry out for more, someone else making you shake, someone else kissing away the salty tears he so loved to see stain your cheeks after he’d made a mess of you. Tainted, irreparably destroyed and desecrated in a way that could never be forgiven.

He wouldn’t be able to see anything else but your betrayal when he set his eyes on you.

Just as you were coming to terms with that fact, another hit you hard in the gut. Bile rising up in your throat and burning yout nostrils as you forced yourself to swallow it back down. What about Ghost? Is this how he has felt throughout it all? The room spun with the idea that you could’ve been causing him such agonizing pain for so long. He’d seen it all. He had been looking after you long before Anakin entered the picture. He had to watch from the shadows as you fell in love with someone else. He was subjected to the very things you’d just played through in your mind.

He had been watching another man touch the woman he loved. The woman he loved so much that he was willing to do anything and everything on earth to see you, keep you, hold you. The woman he treated like royalty in his own way, unconventional to most but… when he called you a goddess you felt like one. How else would you have been lucky enough to be loved by a man like him and to be loved by a man like Anakin at the same time? How horribly fitting.

A perfect example of the tragedies of old. Hubris of the gods always causing chaos for the weaker beings on the earth below. You’d been watching from a chaise in the clouds, peering down at the two heroes fighting for your affections. Only one having knowledge of the competition, a champion as they’re often called; a fighter who has the favor of a deity. A mortal with no knowledge of the battle they’re in… will most certainly befall a gruesome death at the hands of the devine’s champion.

You held your head in your hands, taking calming breaths. This is exactly the kind of thing you were reprimanding yourself for earlier. Overthinking. Over analyzing. Putting yourself and others in it, in a scrutinizing environment that would only lead to a downward spiral.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Nothing is going to happen. Everything always works out in the end.” You promised yourself.

You shook yourself from the self inflicted suffering, thinking maybe a drink of cool water and possibly a retch over the toilet might help stop the icepick hacking away at your brain, pressure building behind your eyes to from the world’s worst headache. As you stood, you slowly became aware of the change in sound coming from the living room. It had went quiet a few minutes ago, but now it seemed…

”Are you fuckin-“ Anakin was watching another video. You’d wrongfully assumed the break in sex noises meant that he was finished and would come back to bed, though it seemed he had plans to stay busy for the next little bit.

You huffed, reminding yourself that its fine, everything is fine. Just take a deep breath, put one foot in front of the other, and-

“What the hell was that?” You thought, ears tuning into something intimately familiar as your hand hovered over the door knob.

There is no way. No possible way that Anakin could’ve gotten his hands on that footage of his own accord… right? This was it, this was the end of it all, the beginning of the fall of the greatest era of your life. Ghost had done it, he’d sent him the videos. How stupid could you have been to believe he didn’t have cameras here too? Did you really believe he wasn’t going to monitor the other man in your life?

He’d heard the argument. He’d seen Anakin storm off, watched as he… touched himself. Then used your own actions against you; this wasn’t a coincidence that the very night you searched for Ghostface porn, research purposes or not, that an explicit video of you with not your boyfriend ends up on the tv where said boyfriend is jacking off.

Surely you’re imagining it right? You’ve just worked yourself up into a tizzy and now you’re hearing things because of your overwhelming guilt. Yes, that’s it. It’s all in your head. You’ve heard Ghost speak so many times that it’d be silly of you not to be able to conjure up an exact replica of his voice and exact words you’d heard from behind his mask before. You know what your own moans sound like, of course you do. Doesn’t everyone?

You grab the door knob and twist it open, pushing open with more force than necessary and bracing yourself for the possibility that Anakin may be on the other side of it ready to kick you out and never let you come back. But the sounds you heard on the other side of the door didn’t sound like you and Ghost. It didn’t sound like porn of any kind. It sounded like… Dale Gribble?

”Ani?” You asked quietly, poking your head around the corner, your eyes adjusting to the different lighting to reveal him curled up in the corner of the sofa, wrapped in a blanket.

“Huh?” He sniffled. He’d been crying?

You’d imagined it. He hadn’t done anything at all. He’s been sitting in here, alone, sobbing over his bong and an empty beer bottle while watching Comedy Central. The poor boy had tried to take his mind off the subject of his weirdly behaving girlfriend by watching King of the Hill. You’d never seen someone close to rock bottom before, but Anakin looked like he had just booked an express ticket for the earliest train.

”Sorry, I uh… what are you doing?” You asked cautiously approaching him, your gaze flickering to the TV suspiciously.

”I’m just… moping.” He cleared his throat, hiding his burning hot face in the crook of his arm. “I’m sorry doll, I feel stupid getting so upset over this. It’s not fair to you.”

“Anakin, are you okay?” You asked as you sat down next to him, your hand on his chest to feel his rapid heartbeat and heaving lungs.

“Sweetheart, is there something you’re not telling me?” Anakin asked and your heart bounced out of your chest.

”What? I don-“

”It’s just… I can’t help but feel a bit insecure.” His voice soft and hurt. “You won’t give me a straight answer as to why you won’t let me touch you. I miss you baby.”

”Ani it’s got nothing to do with you I promise.” You whispered, wanting him to lay his eyes on you, but he kept them downturned.

”But its… It’s been since before your trip, I just worry. Are you sure I didn’t do something?” He asked, finally looking over at you with big watery eyes, the salty tears spilling over into a stream down his hot cheeks.

“Anakin, let’s not rehash this again.” You pleaded, taking his trembling hand in yours. “Yes I was upset when I came back from my trip, that made me less inclined to want to be… intimate.”

“So, so what’s wrong n-now?” He sniffled, swiping the heel of his palm over his cheeks.

“I’m not upset Ani, I just… I’m on my period and I just don’t fe-“ He sat up slightly and cupped your cheek.

”Babydoll, Why didn’t you just say so?” Anakin asked in a pained tone, like he was deeply perturbed you kept that detail to yourself. “I’ve been beating myself up thinking I’d done something to upset you or-or make me less attractive to you.”

”Oh, no don’t say that, no. You’re so handsome, hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on.” You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I will never not be attracted to you.”

”I’ve just been so emotional and I’ve been cramping and everything hurts, I’m tired and period sex is so messy Ani.” You said as nicely as possible so you wouldn’t set him off again.

”Darlin’ you know I don’t mind a little blood,” he chuckled, sucking in a breath through his nose. “I’ve helped you with your cramps before, let me help now.” He said softly, rubbing your cheek bone with his thumb.

”Feel me sweetheart… it hurts me.” He whined, taking your hand to place it over his cock.

So hot, throbbing and covered in precum that you could feel the sticky wet patch where his cockhead rested against the fabric of his boxers. He felt so stiff that you knew immediately he hadn’t cum, maybe he hadn’t even attempted to take care of the issue hisself like you assumed.

“Anakin, I thought you… you know?” You asked quietly, eyebrows pinched in concern.

“I tried.” He sniffed, looking away with an air of embarrassment surrounding him. “Couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?” Your voice soft and warm, an attempt to soothe him.

“C-cause you were right there n’ all I could th-think about was y-you not wantin’ me.” He whimpered, his bottom lip in a pout as he frowned, taking in a choppy breath.

“Aw Ani, I’m sorry.” You whispered, reaching over to touch his face. “Let me see, let me help you.”

“It’s okay babydoll, I-I’ll just wait for it to go down.” He bit his lip, taking a throw pillow from the couch beside him to put over his lap, hiding his raging erection.

“No,” You shook your head, feeling awful for how you’d denied him for such silly reasons, you should’ve known better. “I want to. Please let me?”

“Y-you really do?” He asked with a pitifully hopeful tone that nearly knotted your stomach.

“Of course I do.” You said softly, nodding your head for his reassurance. “Just uh, I gotta go to the bathroom real quick to take out my tampon.” You said, almost bashfully.

“You’re gonna let me?” He asked with knitted eyebrows, his face twisted in a sense of surprise and maybe disbelief. “You’re gonna let me make love to you?”

“If that’s what you want.” You nodded, folding your lips behind your teeth before letting them roll back out.

“Please.” He nodded, nearly falling over as he scooped you up and took you to the bedroom. “Thank you baby, thank you.” He whispered repeatedly as if he couldn’t express his gratitude enough.

“Wait I gotta-“ You let out a little giggle at his eagerness despite being the cause of it.

“Don’t care. I’ll get it.” His voice came out low and raspy as he lay you down with your legs hanging over the end of the bed. You tried scooting yourself upright and he stopped you, a gentle hand placed on your stomach to keep you were he wanted.

“Ani, please, let me go to the bathroom.” You whined, unsure about how you’d handle being so vulnerable with him. It’s one thing to be intimate while on your period but an entirely different matter when it comes to another person, even one you trust, to remove your tampon.

“I’ll be careful.” He whispered, tugging off your shorts and panties in one go, reaching behind him to pull over his small bedroom trash can that he kept near the closet.

Gently, carefully he very slowly parted your folds, giving him full access to your most intimate place. He licked his thumb, running it back and forth over your clit with his other hand poised to take action.

“Ready? I promise I’ll be so careful.” His tone made it seem less of a question and more of a finality. He was going to remove it regardless of your answer. He confirmed that prediction by tugging carefully on the string at your opening.

“So fuckin’ sexy.” He whispered into the plushness of your inner thigh as he placed soft kisses there to soothe you while removing it carefully as promised.

With it tossed in the trash, Anakin jumped into one of his very favorite things to do; feast on your pussy. His tongue snaked it’s way from your weeping hole all the way up to your clit. Letting out a low, wanton moan he buried his tongue as deeply as possible into your cunt, slurping and teasing your entrance before plunging back inside, repeating the process over and over again until he had you squirming.

“Pussy’s so sweet.” He mumbled, humming contentedly like he was prepared to do that for the rest of all time and throughly enjoy every sinful second.

His hands found your hips, elbows bent to keep your legs open for him. His thumbs gently pressing down in massaging circles meant to help relieve your muscles from cramps. You can’t deny that it does help, you’ve almost forgotten the real reason you’d been fending off his advances, almost angry at Ghost- yourself for being the reason you had denied yourself this pain relief.

“Relax pretty girl, you’re so tense.” He whispered pulling back to look up at you, “gotta enjoy this while you can… I can wait much longer.” He smiled apologetically, he hated not being able to take his time, but you understood.

“It’s okay Ani,” you panted, lacing your fingers through his hair to draw him back to where you needed him most. “y-you can-“

“Really? Thanks sweetheart.” He chirped, hopping up from his kneeling position and pulling you toward him as he stood at the foot of his bed.

He didn’t wait for you to finish speaking, he didn’t listen to your nonverbal cue, he simply ripped off his shirt and boxers; revealing his horribly red and irritated cock. The tip covered in precum, shiny and dripping a fresh bead that glistened in the lamp light. He really wasn’t kidding when he said it hurt, you almost felt a sympathy pain for him at the sight of it.

“Oh Anakin, oh I’m so sorry.” You whispered, propping yourself up on your elbows to take off your shirt that he’d left on in his rush. “I didn’t realize…”

“Shh, shh.” He hushed you, cleaning the bloody slick from his chin, running his palm across his skin to smear it on his chest. “S’okay. S’fine.” He shook his head.

Running the heated tip through your dampness, nudging your clit before pushing inside slowly as he shivered. The simple act of being enveloped by your warm, welcoming walls had him biting down on his whitened knuckles to keep himself from bursting then and there.

“So good.” He whined, rutting into you with shallow thrusts, bringing the crook of your knees to rest over his shoulders. “So damn good, wet n’ sloppy for me. S-so pretty, such a pretty red.” He whimpered, pulling out completely to stroke himself just once, gathering up the bloody mixture to lick from his hand with a disgusting fervidity.

“Ani.” You chided, a slight grimace on your face. You didn’t necessarily find it gross, but it was definitely embarrassing.

“I love you, every part of you.” He said, his voice needy and squeaky. “Even this.”

“Don’t stop me from doing what I love.” He said, gripping your thighs against his chest, leaning forward slightly to speed up his pace.

Anakin’s breathing was shallow and choppy, like he was having trouble remembering to breathe, as if the only thing his brain was capable of was keeping up with how hard and fast he was pounding into you.

“Ah-s-slow please.” You hiccuped, being jostled up and down from the roughness, bracing yourself by gripping the edge of the bed.

“Can’t.” He shook his head frantically, his bottom lip quivering as he bit down to hide it from you.

“You okay Ani?” You asked with concern through halted speech.

“Mhm.” He nodded, his face growing pink as he squeezed his eyes shut. Anakin was trying so hard not to cry. Cry from the overwhelming need to cum, the overstimulation he’d forced on himself, and from how his thousandth declaration of love seemed to fail at chipping away your defenses once again.

He wasn’t trying to please you in this moment, this was completely for his benefit. The release he so desperately needed was just within his reach and nothing and no one could stop him from claiming it. He’d waited too long, been uncomfortably suffering since he stormed out of the bedroom and now that he was back, he didn’t think you’d mind being a little… used.

“S-sorry doll, sorry.” He hiccuped, hearing you mewl and feeling your nails dig into his shoulders as you took the beat he so lovingly doled out. “Can’t help it, m’sorry.”

He dropped your legs to hang at his sides, sliding both his arms beneath you to press you against himself in a tight squeeze, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, both gripped firmly in his strong hands, fully securing you in his arms.

“I wanna be close to you.” He whispered, nuzzling into your neck as his cock slid smoothly in and all the way out of your soaked pussy, just to repeat the movement again at an inhumane speed and depth. The tip not just kissing your cervix, but most certainly bruising it from the bullying motion. “Need to be close to you, s’not enough.”

“Can’t get any closer than this Ani.” You breathed out a light laugh after taking in a sharp gasp.

“Wish I could.” He sniffled, his hips stuttering as his stomach tightened and he was no longer able to hold his tears at bay.

“I love you.” He whispered, hot tears streaming down his cheeks and dropping in small puddles across your shoulder and collar bone. He tried to silence himself by kissing your neck, nipping lovingly but he was so shaky it was no use in trying to conceal his emotions so he let himself sob.

“I love you, I just want you to love me.” Anakin sobbed, loud and exhausted, his chest heaving against yours, sticky with sweat from his efforts. “I want you to love me, why don’t you love me?”

His pleas were pitiful, so raw and vulnerable. He was once again baring his soul to you and you had no idea how to respond. The first instinct is to say it back, say it and soothe him, help him reign in his tears. But you hesitate, knowing it wasn’t exactly right; even if it is true.

“Please.” Whimpering softly, audibly sniffing back snot after letting his heart bleed through his lips. “Please just love me, let yourself love me like I love you.”

“C-can’t.” He whined, hips snapping against yours as he reached between you to put pressure on your clit, the simple touch fogging your brain. “I can’t cum.” He hiccuped.

It was awful, seeing him so close, so wild and frenzied to climb to a summit he just couldn’t get to, the poor boy had been so frustrated for so long and now that he finally had you again it was practically torture to be within those satiny walls he would kill to live in.

“Anakin.” You said softly, shifting and wriggling in his tight embrace to gain use of one arm to gently push his chin up, making him look at you. He looked as piteous as he sounded, red faced and splotchy, luscious eyelashes heavy with salty tears.

“Anakin I do… I do love you I-“

“Goddamnit.” He choked out, his movements completely stilling save for the twitching of his cock and the rapid beat of his heart, he even stopped breathing. The halted air eeking out in a groaning squeak while he pumped you so full of cum that you could feel it overflow, leaking out without him even moving.

“I do love you Ani. I just wasn’t ready to say it and I was scared.” You said quietly, letting him collapse into a quietly weeping heap atop you, his hips rolling against you ever so slowly.

“Say it again.” He asked, so sorrowfully that you could deny it if you tried.

“I love you.” Your hand finding his head, holding him against your damp chest as you gently scratched his scalp. It was bittersweet to say it aloud. You’d kept it bottled up for months and it was a relief to finally admit it, but it also twisted that proverbial knife in your gut. You can’t truly love a man while another has a piece of your heart as well.

“Let me kiss my princess.” He whispered, leaning back to wipe at his mess of a face before coming back to meet your lips with his own. “I love you baby, I love you.” His voice soft and sweet, a light lilt that made your heart feel just a bit lighter.

Anakin started to thrust slow and deep, reaching every part of you with equal intensity. With one hand he pushed your right leg back against the bed, his other coming to run across your abdomen, caressing the skin until he reached the beautiful valley and hills of your breasts. He was taking his time now, but you knew it wouldn’t be long until you unraveled.

“I love you too.” You said, swallowing down the lump in your throat and giving him a soft, warm smile, blinking quickly to bat away the tears forming. You weren’t entirely sure why your eyes got watery but you knew for certain it wasn’t solely because of your confession.

Enveloping one of your nipples into his mouth twisting and pinching the other between his saliva covered fingers, Anakin stayed true to his promise that he’d make love to you. Everything he did now was focused entirely on you and your needs. He watched every twitch, every breath, every heart beat to stay intuitive to what you desired of him.

“Like that.” You nodded quickly as he angled his hips upward to put extra pressure on your sweet spot -only he could reach.-

“You like it sweetheart?” He rasped, looking down at you with lust blown pupils.

“Love it.” Mewling as you arched into his hand that snuck between your thighs.

“That’s what I wanna hear babydoll.” Anakin licked his bottom lip, carefully working you up to orgasm with his skillful touch and perfectly fitted cock.

“Gods… what a pretty pink.” He mumbled, looking down where your bodies met with a hunger that seemed insatiable.

Anakin didn’t want to stop his consistent and steady pace he’d set with his thumb. But, he just could not resist the temptation to taste the creamy pink blend of your slick, his cum and your sweet, sweet blood. Gathering up a dollop, he brought it to his mouth, sucking his finger clean with a ferocity you’d never expected. His knees buckled and his cock twitched; suddenly he was cumming again, powering through his unsteady thrusts to attempt to keep his pace for you.

“Fuckin’ hell doe-oll, doll, my babydoll.” He corrected himself, hoping you wouldn’t think anything of it.

You didn’t. You couldn’t think at all. You could hardly hear a single syllable from his plump lips, focusing all your attention and energy on reminding yourself to breathe as you clenched around his thickness. The sudden and unexpected sensation of him coating your gummy walls, simply from such a disgustingly delicious taste was enough to send you into an equally spontaneous orgasm. Your legs shook, a high-pitched whine escaped your chest and you squirmed beneath him while gripping the blanket beneath you so tightly you felt sure that you’d ripped a bit of the stitching.

“There’s my girl, my sweet girl.” He muttered, seeing your eyes fluttering back open as though you were regaining consciousness. In a way, you were.

“Mmhmm.” You nodded tiredly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he nuzzled against your throat, peppering kisses across your flushed skin. “Your girl.”

“I know.” He chuckled, tilting your head back to capture you in a gentle, sensually slow kiss. His tongue barely grazing your lip, just enough to leave you breathless before he pulled back and flashed you a smile you hadn’t seen for a few days. A real one.

Diary Entry: September 17th

I should be ashamed of myself, I’m aware. I just can’t be bothered to conjure up that emotion.

I’m taking this and fucking sprinting with it, I’ll hit Mach 10 before NASA does. You told me you loved me. Me. Anakin.

Yeah it might’ve been… coerced. Just a tiny little bit of course, you said it if your own accord. I simply pushed you in the right direction. Now. Don’t go thinking those tears were a sham. I swear they weren’t.

That embarrassing display was entirely real and justified in my opinion, though that doesn’t make it any easier to acknowledge that this was not the first time and won’t be the last time that I cry while balls deep in your heavenly body.

Insane isn’t it? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it every single opportunity that arises: it’s just further proof that you truly are a goddess. How else would it be possible to cause a grown man to fucking cry like that?

Date: September 16th 12:38

You stretched, yawning and groaning as your body adjusted to being awake. You’d slept late, as late as you possibly could because of how long you’d stayed up last night. You were still tired, not nearly as exhausted as expected but still sleepy enough that if you were to close your eyes for too long they’d stay shut for another few hours.

You sniffed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, rolling over to your phone and seeing Anakin had texted you not too long ago. He was out getting groceries for the two of you and he’d promised to bring home your favorite icecream, knowing you’d gnawed through the very last of it and you desperately needed more. After sending a quick message to let him know you were finally awake, you rolled over again and stretched out like I starfish, enjoying the cooler temperature of the sheets on Anakin’s side of the bed.

Even going so far as to scooch yourself over and snuggle up to his pillow to breathe in his scent. A cold, hard object touched your cheek and startled you, the item making a slightly metallic sound in the dark room. You grabbed your phone and held the screen over the pillow, nearly choking on air when you recognized the offending object. You grabbed it, turning it over in your hands with a most confused expression on your face.

Ghost. He’s brought your hair pin over here, placed it on Anakin’s pillow for you to find. But why? He never did things without a purpose, so what on earth could he have aimed to do by leaving you this? Bolting upright you went straight to the light switch and flicked it on, blinking and shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness as you frantically looked around the room in search of anything out of place.

Once you were certain the bedroom was safe, you searched the rest of Anakin’s apartment and found that all was well in each corner of his home. So it must mean Ghost has left something for you at your own home. Or maybe he’s just trying to fuck with you? He’s been so confusing and it’s been so awful… maybe he’s just hoping to upset you. Even so, you found yourself walking across the threshold of your apartment just moments later.

Ghost has been here. He’s been here while you were away at Anakin’s and you’re not entirely sure what the point of his visit was. The cat food bowl was full, your floor had been vacuumed and your bedroom door was open.

Half expecting to find him in there, you walked in and surveyed the room. Disappointment flooding you when you realized he wasn’t there like you’d hoped. Though remnants of him were. Spread neatly across the top of your dresser were all the little things that you’d kept in your jewelry box. Trinkets and notes, along with a few other things. The tiny cameras. He’d taken them all down and laid them in a row for you to see.

He wasn’t kidding when he’d said he didn’t need them anymore. He was finished watching you, instead of relief you felt a painful sense of loss, like you were missing something intangible but feeling it physically. Anakin’s ring. The bullet. They were both lying there at the end of the dresser, the bullet laid inside the metal centipede. Odd. Odd enough to note it for further reflection if needed, but not odd enough to capture your full attention.

No. Your sights were set on a cardboard box lying atop your bed. You rushed to rip the lid off, seeing something unexpected inside. Underwear. A whole handful of panties, your panties. Pairs you’d long since assumed had been eaten by the shitty laundromat washers. Beneath them were a set of identical sheets to the ones on your bed at that very moment, you even lifted the edge of the comforter to confirm it.

The items only continued to grow stranger. Some things you didn’t even recognize until closer inspection, like reciepts, bookmarks, random odds and ends of things you’d lost or thrown out… things you didn’t understand why he would’ve wanted to keep. That was until you stumbled across one slip of paper tucked away inside the large ziploc bag of other crinkled papers. A phone number.

The yoga instructor. His phone number, all this time you’d believed you’d simply lost it. The truth dawned on you slowly as you spread out all those little scraps of your life, realizing some of them were yours and some were his. Theater tickets, restaurant coasters, stupid little things that held no meaning for you until now. He’d followed you far and wide, that much you already knew. You just didn’t realize how closely he was following.

He’d attended movies with you, he could’ve sat directly behind you and watched you instead of the screen and you wouldn’t have ever known. Your favorite coffee place, there were some of your receipts along with a slew of what must be his, considering you never ordered smoothies from there. Time stamped minutes before or after your reciepts were. You’d drank coffee, stood in line… never noticing him.

You wracked each corner of your mind in hopes of finding a familiar face sticking out in the recesses. Willing yourself to dig deep and fish out a common denominator. Was there a man who could possibly fit his physique amongst the crowds in your memories? Try as you might, there weren’t any faces coming up on your register that seemed suspicious or even slightly familiar.

Pictures. Close to a hundred pictures of you from all moments of life. Shopping at the grocery store, getting into your car, browsing the shelves of the library, chatting with your friends, or simply of you inside your home from outside your livingroom window. Even more unsettling were the photos without you in them. Photos of Luke’s apartment, your sister’s house, The Bluebird diner, your car.

Then at the very bottom was your copy of The Silmarillion, the one you’d been so horribly disappointed to lose. Not that it made you feel any better to have it back, not now. Not after everything. You opened it up and saw a sticky note inside with Ghost’s handwriting adorning it.

‘Sent with all my love, Ghost.’

That’s it? That’s all he had to say after dropping this bombshell off on you? You were so simply exasperated by the entire situation that you shoved everything back down into the box, then making a big sweep of your arm across your dresser to knock all the other pieces of Ghost into the box and shove it angrily under your bed. What is it exactly that he was trying to do?

Diary Entry: September 21st

I’m assuming you were unhappy with Ghost’s display. Was it not clear that I was trying to physically show you everything I’ve done for you? Was it not obvious that I love you more than life itself?

Or are you just terrified by that very fact I was trying to get across? Now that you’ve told me you love me, are you leaving Ghost? I suppose I should be respectful of the fact you’ve begun to ignore me. It seems you’ve made up your mind.

I thought you’d be happy with the lengthened leash I’d put you on. No more cameras to watch your every move, I have your phone to listen in when I feel the need to, that’s enough for me now that I’m graced with your beautiful face as often as I’d like to be. I get to see you through my own eyes, no longer forced only to see you through filtered lenses of my mask. Why bother with looking through the lens of a camera anymore either? It’s no where near as satisfying as being able to reach out and touch the flesh I’d yearned to feel for so long.

Diary Entry: September 22nd

There’s not many things I’m scared of, but this appointment is rightfully terrifying. I simply can’t imagine how you’d react if you happened to overhear any of the sensitive information I’ll be forced to share. I know that patient confidentiality and HIPPA are extremely important and very much required, but what if the walls are not thick enough? Will they have a white noise machine outside the door?

September 25th

You had been standing on the platform outside Luke’s apartment for almost ten minutes when his neighbor stepped outside onto the concrete platform, sitting himself down in a faded green lawn chair with a cigarillo pinched between his teeth. He regarded you with a slow nod and an uncomfortable head to toe scan, are middle aged men so completely unaware of themselves that they don’t grasp that they’re being creepy? Or do they just not care?

You gave him the obligatory ‘smile so you don’t ask me to’ half-assed toothless smile.

‘Ur creep neighbors out here again.’ You shot off the text to Luke, the fourth message you’d sent him in between loud knocking and shouting.

Luke was never late. He was always the earliest person to any gathering, he was always the most prepared, so unlike you. You’d gotten here three minutes past the time you’d promised to be at his door. You fully expected him to be waiting, tapping his foot with that disapproving frown he loves to grace you with.

“He’s not home.” A gritty, decades-long smoker’s voice crawled into your ear from behind.

“D-do you know when he left?” You asked awkwardly.

“Yeah.” He nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarillo that made him sputter and hack up smoker’s sludge that he spat over the railing. You hoped no one was unlucky enough to be walking past at that time in the parking lot below.

“Do you think you could tell me?” You huffed impatiently.

“Got yer knickers in a twist?” He snorted at your brusque tone.

“Y’know what. Nevermind.” You scoffed, turning away and making a quick exit for the concrete steps and onto the sidewalk below.

With a cautionary glance over your shoulder, you picked up the pace to reach your car. There’s no chance that man could catch up to you, but you wouldn’t put it past him to try his hand at it. You heard a sharp, song-like whistle from behind you and felt your stomach churn.

A familiar, clean voice rang out through the parking lot, shouting out your name. Snapping your head around, your body took a second to follow. It was Luke, finally. Finally he was here and although you were relieved to see him, it also enraged you.

“Where the hell were you? You need to answer your fucking phone!” You shouted, quick walking over to him to shove his shoulder.

“Jesus I’m sorry!” He squeaked, shaking his head in bewilderment at your frantic speech. “I was at the overpass and I saw-“

“Your disgusting neighbor was… he was being disgusting.” You whisper shouted, following Luke up the steps and hoping the guy was back inside.

“Mhm, yes that is usually what he does.” Luke nodded in agreement although sarcastically.

“Where were you?” You repeated yourself as Luke unlocked the door.

“Well I was trying to tell you.” He scoffed. “But you talked over me. You know I hate it when you do that it-“

“I’m sorry! Just-“ you paused, raising your eyebrows as Luke scowled at you. “Right. Interrupting.” You cleared your throat and kicked off your shoes while he locked the door behind you both.

“As I was saying, I was on the overpass and I saw the tiniest little kitten up there.” He said, holding one hand over the other to replicate the size of the kitten. “I felt bad so I got out and scooped him up.”

“You parked your car and got out on the overpass?” You said in a shocked tone. It was always horribly busy and crowded, entirely too terrifying for you to have done that… maybe you might be persuaded by a situation like this.

“I didn’t want the little guy to get squashed.” Luke retorted.

“I don’t want you to get squashed.” You laughed, surprised.

“I’m fine and so is my new buddy.” Luke said proudly.

“You’re keeping him? Oh my god Luke did you leave him in the car?” You gasped, looking down at his empty hands before turning to walk to the door.

“No! No you idiot.” He huffed, smacking your shoulder. “I’m not that oblivious. I dropped him off at the vet’s office. You remember Jalen?” He asked.

“Sure, why?” You asked, pulling a face. Jalen was Luke’s shortest and worst crush from his player stint.

“He works there at the clinic now!” He explained, going to the sink to wash his hands, then trudging off to his room to change clothes. “I told him I was in a rush so he emailed me the registration papers and went ahead and put the kitten in one of those wall cages.”

“Wall cages?” You asked, standing in his doorway, facing the opposite direction so he could have a bit of privacy.

“Yeah, you know, the little kennel things.” He said quickly. “Anyway, I figured I’d fill it out once I got home so give me a minute or two and then we’ll chat m’kay?”

“Does Han know you’re bringing home a baby?” You asked teasingly.

“Yes of course. He’s practically my husband of course he knows.” He scoffed, tapping your shoulder to make you move. He plopped himself down on the couch and patted the spot next to him for you to do the same.

Luke mumbled to himself as he filled out the online registration, it was quick considering he had zero prior information about the little kitty. “Hey, would it be stupid to put ‘pitiful and abandoned’ in the Reason For Visit section?”

“Was he pitiful?” You asked.

“Yes.” Luke nodded, pursing his lips. “Before you ask, yes he was also abandoned. You’re so right. Perfect. Mm, also crusty goopy eyes.”

“Yeah, I’d probably put crusty, goopy eyes first.” You said, crossing your feet at the ankles and resting them on the coffee table.

“Too late.” He shrugged, hitting send and almost immediately getting a confirmation email from Jalen.

“Did you mention that you are in a very committed relationship?” You asked, finding the quick response a tad odd.

“No. Why would I do that? It was quicker and my new friend got into the safety of the little cage before the ugly old scrungly pug that came in right before us did.” He snorted. “I have pretty privilege, Han will understand.”

“You’re awful.” You laughed, covering your mouth as you snorted loudly. “What if you made that scrungly pug late for his very important appointment?”

“Appointment for what? Cremation?” Luke clicked his tongue, hiding a smirk and holding in a giggle at his own joke.

“Shut up.” You snickered, taking a deep breath as you dropped your hands into your lap. “Anyway. I needed to t-“

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m naming it?” He cut you off, looking offended.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and clasping your hands. “Luke. What are you naming your kitten?” You chirped.

“Art the second.” He said with a small smile.

“Nuh-uh.” You grinned, remembering the old scruffy cat he’d begged his parents to let him keep.

The poor old elderly tomcat had wound up on their front porch during a rainstorm and he was almost mistaken for a lump of wet newspaper. Once he got dry, he looked ten pounds heavier from all the fuzz and knots. He lived out the rest of his years being pampered better than the Queen of England.

“I miss Art.” You sighed, smiling fondly at the memory. He was a grumpy old boy but he was the first cat you’d met that you actually meshed well with. You’d joked that you wanted split custody in the event y+ou and Luke ever had a falling out.

“I miss Art too.” He nodded, laying down on the couch and shuffling until he’d laid his head on your thigh. “But Art the Second will live a long happy life. The life Art the First should’ve had.”

“Don’t get sappy please. You know how I feel about that stupid cat.” You huffed, letting out the air with puffed cheeks. It was the first pet death you and Luke had experienced, you thought you may never recover. Obviously it was still a touchy subject.

“Fine, I’ll cry about it later.” He sighed, waving it off before tucking his hands beneath his arms. “Alright, what did you desperately need to talk to me about?” He asked.

“Okay, please promise you won’t yell at me.” You whispered, petting his hair comfortingly while you pulled out your phone and turned it off. This conversation absolutely could not be monitored by Ghost. Your new paranoia making you survey the area to see if he’d somehow placed cameras in Luke’s house as well.

“Wow, I love it when you start a conversation so ominously. I can’t wait to yell at you.” Luke quipped, snorting softly as you glared down at him.

”I’m serious!” You huffed exhaustedly, already tired just from thinking of how too begin your story without revealing too much. “So you remember when uh, someone followed me home from-“

”Please don’t.” Luke sighed, reaching up to squeeze your upper arm. “Babe, I thought you moved past that.”

”Would you shut up and just listen to me?” You grumbled a bit louder than intended, though it seemed to startle Luke into obeying. “Someone did follow me home. I promise. I swear I’m not crazy.” You said almost pleadingly.

”It’s not… not as bad as it sounds okay? Just hear me out.” You looked down and saw Luke was obviously conflicted. Part of him wanted to stop you right there and call Anakin to come get you and the other really wanted to trust you on this.

”I’m listening.” He agreed begrudgingly, nodding for you to continue your tale.

“I lied.” You whispered, hoping, praying, that this lie would come to as naturally as all the others you’d told since then. “I lied and I’ve been lying ever since.”

”So there wasn’t someone following you?” Luke asked confusedly, his eyebrows furrowed and lips parted.

”There was but I… I knew him.” You said, looking away but reminding yourself that Luke of all people would know if you were lying simply by watching your mannerisms. “I lied cause I knew him and things were going- are going so well with Anakin.”

”I told Anakin I loved him.” You said in a softer but no less anxious.

”What? Oh my god that’s great news! Oh god I owe Lauren so much money.” Luke’s words started off strong but ended in a bit of an astonished dissatisfaction.

”Please would you stop betting on my love life?!” You scoffed smacking his shoulder before grabbing it and holding him in place. “I’m serious okay? But you shouldn’t be so happy. Not until you hear everything.” You sighed, rubbing your face.

”I need you to hep me Lukey. Please?” You asked, leaning forward to implore him. “I’ve messed up so bad.”

”You’ve been cheating on Anakin? Haven’t you?” He asked, standing up abruptly to putting one hand on his hip and the other in a fist on his forehead. “ What the hell is wrong with you?” He asked quietly.

”A lot.” You whispered, ‘if only you knew.’ You thought.

”S-so what do you need my help with, huh? Covering for you?” Luke asked in exhaustion, looking at you with an expression you’d never seen before. You’d seen him angry, you’d seen him disappointed, but this was much different.

”No, no not at all.” You whispered, swallowing and looking away from his glaring eyes. “No, I’d never ask you to do something like that I was-“

”Good. Because I like Anakin. He’s good to you, he makes you happy. He loves you. This is the only boyfriend you’ve ever had that I have thought highly of and I will not lie to him.” Luke said sternly, his tone so sharp and serious that it caused you to jump in surprise, readjusting your seated position.

”So you need my help telling him about your adulterous behavior then?” He continued, his lips pursed as he looked down his nose at you.

”No. I need you to tell me how to get rid of the other guy. Just… delicately, he’s very uh, touchy?” You said in an unsure manner, unable to convert the meaning you wanted to without using much stronger, more terrifying descriptor.

“Oh really?” Luke huffed. “He’s touchy? What about Anakin, huh?”

”I-I know Luke! I know that!” You stood up and started pacing nervously.

“You think he won’t fucking kill this guy over you? Cause he will. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Luke said in a low tone, walking over to you with a purpose. “Drop this other guy. Obviously he’s so unimportant that I have never even heard of him until you needed my help for damage control!”

“Luke, no it’s…” You whispered, shaking out your hands anxiously. Luke had never ever yelled at you like this and he was surprisingly intimidating. “It’s complicated and I… I’m so sorry.”

”You’re sorry? You’re saying sorry to me?” Luke laughed in contempt. “I’m not the one you should be saying sorry to.”

”Lukey I’m trying okay? I’m trying to fix this.” You said, nearly in tears. You hadn’t expected this kind of reaction at all. It was not at all as easy to take this side of the conversation as it was to dole it out during Luke’s fuckboy days.

”I love you. I care about you, I want the best for you and the very first time you’re close to making the right decisions… you’ve fucked it up.” Luke scoffed, shaking his head.

”I came to you because you are my best friend and I trust you.” You yelled back. “I’ve been there for you when you were in my position-“

”Don’t remind me okay?” Luke said, his voice falling flat. “I understand, of course I do. But I found Han and I am never going back to that because he is my person. Isn’t Anakin meant to be your person?”

”Yes.” You nodded sadly, feeling a sense of shame that ran so deeply within your soul that it was nearly suffocating.

”So do what you’re supposed to do.” Luke said sharply, pointing you toward the door. “Don’t come back until you have proof you’ve driven this asshat off the bridge.”

September 28th

Anakin nervously paced the waiting room for what felt like the hundredth time since you’d arrived; he’d sit, stand, stretch, walk, repeat. You wondered if he was like this at every appointment or if it was because you were present at such a sensitive one, even if you were only going to wait outside.

”Ani, please come sit.” You sighed, patting the stiff and uncomfortable chair beside yours.

”I’m sorry, I’m just nervous.” He said, refusing to sit but at least returning to your side to stand in front of you, holding both your hands and rocking from the ball of his feet to his heel.

”It’s alright, just take a breath. You already know your doctor, so it shouldn’t be much different from all the other times, right?” You said, trying to reassure him.

”I know, I know.” He nodded, finally deciding to plop himself down beside you, sinking low in his chair to slump and lean his head back against the wall with his hands folded on his stomach.

“Skywalker?” A feminine voice rang out through the waiting room, a younger woman had appeared in the doorway that lead back to the various offices of the therapists and psychiatrists.

”You’re not my doctor.” Anakin said, standing up and shooting you a panicked look.

”No, I’m here to do your intake.” She gave a polite smile and waved him forward. “You’ll be back with Dr. Richardson for your next appointment. It’s policy to go through an intake when a client has taken a hiatus from treatment.”

”You’re a psychiatrist?” Anakin looked her over suspiciously, giving you another worried uptick of his eyebrows after he’d assessed her. “I don’t- I don’t want a lady doctor.” He said quietly to you.

“It’s just for one appointment Ani, it’ll be alright.” You said as you gave him a light squeeze to his hand. “I’m sure she’s great.”

”No, you don’t understand I-“ Anakin was cut off by the woman calling for him again, looking at him with a bit of confusion as she tried to determine why he was acting so oddly.

”Is there a problem?” She asked when Anakin finally complied and began following her down the hallway, leaving you with once last look over his shoulder as the door shut behind him.

”Isn’t there anyone else to do my intake?” He asked, fiddling with the chunky rings on his fingers.

”No, it’s just me.” She responded, pushing open her office door and letting Anakin walk through first. “I’m Dr. Amidala, but you can call me Padmé If you prefer.”

Anakin scoffed, taking in the scenery of her office. She was very clearly the type of woman who thought highly of herself, exactly why Anakin did not trust her in the slightest to provide him with proper care for his condition, perhaps not even just to take the notes she’d be taking to hand over to Dr. Richardson. She had a picture of herself in front of her college framed in a shadow box along with her diploma, the room was decorated in ugly neutral colors, the occasional splash of green from a potted plant, and an essential oil diffuser that Anakin knew would leave him with a headache by the end of the session.

”How long have you been practicing?” Anakin asked, sitting down in the large squishy leather chair designated for clients while she took her place behind her desk and computer.

“Two years.” She responded, presumably pulling up Anakin’s previous medical history, which Anakin believed to be a bit unprofessional. She should’ve already read up on him before the appointment.

”Great.” He sighed, new psychiatrists always seemed so intimidated by him and his diagnosis and it was already uncomfortable enough for him considering this pretentious lady wasn’t his doctor.

“Feeling anxious?” SHe asked him, looking away from her computer screen for a moment. “I understand that, it can be int-“

”I’m not intimidated by you. I’m irritated because no one thought to mention this little change in policy.” Anakin cut her off and it seemed to startle the woman slightly, due to the abrasive nature of his tone.

”Right, well I appreciate your honesty.” She said, raising an eyebrow. “Let me tell you a bit about myself, perhaps it’ll make you a bit more comfortable.” She offered.

”I’m only seeing you once, right?” Anakin asked, crossing his arms and sinking down into his seat.

”Yes that’s correct.” She nodded, typing on her keyboard as she spoke.

”Then I don’t need to know anything about you.” Anakin said plainly, receiving a curious ‘hmm’ in response.

”Well lets jump right into the meat of it then,” She sai, spinning in her chair and taking the keyboard with her to type while being able to glance up at Anakin when she needed to. “Why did you decide to stop attending your appointments with Dr. Richardson?”

”Because I didn’t feel like I needed to keep going. I don’t need therapy, I just need my medicine.” He sighed.

”Well, that brings me to my next question then.” She stated, opening her mouth to speak again.

”I didn’t pick up my meds because I was out of town at the time and I had forgotten to call ahead.” He interrupted as he anticipated her next inquiry. “CVS put my meds back up because I didn’t get there to pick it up in time and then I kind of just decided maybe I’d be fine without it, but I’m not.”

”What makes you think that?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed.

”I’ve been quick to irritation and anger, having arguments with my girlfriends over stupid shit. Not her fault though, mine.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. “I just need my pills and I’ll be back to my normal self.” He added.

”WHy did you wait so long before calling for an appointment when you know it’s legally mandated for you to keep up with these treatments?” She asked, typing rapidly.

”My girl didn’t know I took any meds, she didn’t know I saw a shrink.” He said, quickly speaking again before Padmé had the opportunity to pose a follow up question. “She didn’t know because it’s not something she should be concerned about, my diagnosis has never affected our relationship up till now so it didn’t seem like I needed to mention it until I was ready to.”

”Your girlfriend, is she in the waiting room?” She asked, getting a simple nod in response. “Why didn’t she come back with us?”

“Because it’s private information and not anything she needs to hear.” He snapped, obviously feeling defensive of where this lady doctor was going with this line of questioning. “She’s sensitive and I don’t believe my past is appropriate for us to discuss.”

“Is that why you were hesitant to speak with-“

”With you? Yes, I don’t think women should be in this field of work.” He said firmly, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. “Other patients with my kind of history can be volatile. It’s not safe.”

”You say ‘your kind of history’ and ‘other patients’. What do you mean by that?” She asked, quickly typing as Anakin spoke over her.

”My kind of history as in criminal history.” He said, rolling his eyes. “Did you not read my file? There’s a reason this shit is court mandated. I might be reformed but that doesn’t mean that everyone who keeps up with their treatments are.”

”I see, so you are ‘reformed’? In your opinion?” SHe asked skeptically.

”You really didn’t read up on me did you?” He scoffed. “I am reformed. I’m a productive member of society, I have a stable job, I have a stable relationship with a woman I love, I have a friend group, I have my own place, I’m in control of my finances. I’m doing better than most regular people.”

“Not to mention I haven’t had a single run in with police or law enforcement of any kind since before my time at the state school.” He added proudly.

”No run-ins? Does that mean you’ve still been committing petty crimes, just not-“

”No absolutely not. Don’t twist my words.” He snipped at her, cutting her off before she could finish the offending question.

”I’d appreciate if you’d allow me to finish speaking from now on.” She said politely even though she was off-put by his behavior and agrees I’ve speech.

”I’d appreciate if you’d not judge me based on other’s behavior. Like I said, I’ve been reformed. I just need my prescription.” He sighed, trying to reign in his attitude. He’d noticed the way she was furiously typing and it worried him.

”Then lets finish this quickly, yes?” She said plainly. “I assume you’re well versed in the mandatory questions.”

”Yes.” Anakin nodded, clasping his hands in his lap. “My sleep schedule remains unchanged, I’m a bartender so I get to bed late but I get plenty of sleep. Little to no anxiety when I’m regularly taking my pills, no suicidal thoughts so long as I’m taking my meds either.” He continued listing off his memorized answers to the same damn monotonous questions he’d come to expect and when he finished, he stood as though ready to leave her office.

”I’m sorry, just a few more things Anakin.” She said, not looking up from her typing. “It’s concerning to me that’s you’ve failed to share your past to it’s full extent with your partner. Don’t you think it could cause future problems if you continue to hid this from her?”

”I don’t think that’s any of your business. If I decide to tell her anything, it’ll be on my own time, not because some bi-“ He took a deep breath and stopped himself before saying something he couldn’t retract. “I will share it with her when I’m ready. She will handle it well I’m sure, considering she’s taken this with grace so far.”

”How long have you been in this stable relationship and is this your first serious commitment?” SHe asked, still typing before she switched over to her mouse and scrolled. “I’m not seeing any mention of former partners.”

”Unoffically we’ve been together almost a year.” He said with a slight hint of a smile, “But officially its just been close to six months or something.” He said before adding: “Yes she is my first real girlfriend, I’m fully committed. I plan on marrying her.”

“Well congrats then.” She said with a small smile, happy to see that at least one thing seemed to consistently bring him joy. Even if it was slightly concerning. “I assume you live together?”

”No, but basically. I’m her neighbor. We live in the same apartment complex, I’m right across the hall from her. That’s how we met.” He nodded, his mood lifting considerably and she made a point to note that.

”Have you put any thought into why this is your first committed relationship?” She asked.

”I was waiting for the right person and I found her.” He said simply with a firm nod and smile.

“If in the event this relationship doesn’t pan out the way you believe it will, what would you do?” She asked, fingers poised to type.

”That’s not going to happen.” Anakin said sharply, gripping the arms of his chair tightly. “This isn’t a therapy appointment, you’re meant to focus on my life currently and my medicine management. You’re not my doctor and you’re certainly not entitled to ask these types of questions.”

”I understand, perhaps I should’ve explained. I’m asking simply because it’s important to see how you react to inavasive questions while you’re unmedicated. Dr. Richardson mentioned you seem very defensive and-“

”And what? You couldn’t have asked me that question directly?” Anakin asked, annoyedly.

”Well in most other cases I would, but it’s been noted that you are a chronic liar.” She stated plainly, turning her computer screen toward him and highlighting the note previously made by Dr. Richardson.

”I want a copy of my full medical history.” Anakin said with clear irritation at the fact he’d been called out so efficiently. “Notes, previous prescriptions, all of it.”

”You’ll have to sign a release of information form.” She said, pulling out a stapled packet from a filling cabinet and handing it over to him with a pen and clipboard. He quickly signed and slapped the clipboard back onto her desk before she handed him another one. “I assume you meant full history as in your records from your time in the state school as well, That requires a serperate form if you’d like for us to collect those files for you as well.”

”Fine, whatever.” He huffed, scribbling in the designated spots that had been pre-highlighted. He tossed the pen down when he was finished and was relieved to see the doctor stand and collect the freshly signed paperwork.

”Follow me please, I’ll drop these off with the receptionist.” She said, ushering him through the door and back down the hallway to the waiting room. She stopped, handing over the paperwork and watching as it was faxed and filed as it should be. “Your patient file for your treatment here will be ready by the end of the day, I’ll send in the script for your meds immediately, the pharmacy should call within a few hours. Dr. Richardson will contact you with the information for your next appointment.”

She skirted around Anakin and approached you with her hand out, standing up, you met her halfway and shook her hand, introducing yourself.

”I always like to get in a few questions with the family if I’m able, would you be willing to come back to my office with me?” SHe asked, her voice friendly and sweet.

”Oh I don’t mind it’s just-“ You started but Anakin stepped in, putting a gentle hand on the small of your back.

”You don’t have to, it’s not mandatory right?” He asked.

”No of course not, it’s just beneficial to get opinions from all involved.” She smiled reassuringly. “It’s common practice in the mental health field.”

”I’m not comfortable with her going back to your office alone, if you’ve got questions for her, I want to be there.” Anakin said firmly, looking down at you in hopes you’d agree with him.

”I usually like to take family back alone for privacy reasons.” She said apologetically.

”Well, if Anakin’s uncomfortable and its not mandatory then I-I’d rather not, if that’s alright.” You said, giving Anakin a small smile to show you were on his side. It was his appointment after all.

”Of course, it’s no problem.” She smiled, bidding you both goodbye before she turned on her heel and click-clacked her way back to her office.

”What was that all about?” You whispered as Anakin opened the door and led you out into the parking lot.

”Hell if I know. I didn’t like the bitch and I’m glad I’ll never have to see her again. Fuckin’ ridiculous.” He huffed, helping you into your side of his car and shutting the door for you. “I sent in a records request for all my notes n’ shit. I didn’t like the way she was looking at me when she was talking and typing. Dr. Richardson never typed that much during our appointments.” He muttered, starting up the car and backing out.

”You wanna get some lunch? Before we go shopping?” You asked, trying to take his mind off what was clearly a stressful appointment for him.

“Absolutely princess, I’m fucking starved.” He said, reaching over to squeeze the back of your neck gently while he kept his other hand on the wheel.

Diary Entry: September 28th

I’ve been livid and trying my very best to suppress it. That fucking bitch and what she wrote about me was ridiculous. I don’t give a flying fuck if she thinks any of it is true.

Dr. Richardson is a truthworthy guy. I’ve seen him for years and I’m pissed off he’s went and ruined my day by letting this idiot do my intake. Why the hell would I need to do an intake anyway considering I’ve been a patient of his since I graduated? What new information could he have possibly needed? Stupid. It’s fucking stupid.

After we left she continued with her notes, even knowing I would be reading them very, very soon because you bet your ass I went and picked that shit up the moment I got the call it was waiting for me. The audacity she had was staggering. Calling me controlling and aggressive? I’m sorry? In what way was I controlling? Where’d she get the gall to say that about me? I don’t control you.

She’s just not used to a man telling her what to do and how things are gonna be. She’s not like you. She’s exactly the type of woman that needs someone to knock her down a few notches.

I just can’t imagine how she’s kept her job this long, or how she even fucking graduated. I even looked up her college and through the class list for her major and it’s honestly shocking someone so stupid could keep a high enough GPA to graduate. She had to have been fucking several of her professors.

No wonder she was so unprofessional, she doesn’t even have a fucking profession. She’s got a useless piece of paper and a shit attitude that she thinks makes her better than me. This is exactly why I hate seeing women as a doctor. All of them. Mental health or the fucking dentist, I don’t care.

I mean, I’d prefer you not work at all. But at least you have a job meant for ladies. You’re a waitress, that’s perfect for you. Your sweetness, the pretty smile, the cute caretaker instincts you’ve got.

This girl though? Someone ought to shove her behind the desk to replace the receptionist. She’s in no way capable of doing her job accurately. She was too busy thinking about shit that didn’t even matter. I just needed my fucking medicine. I didn’t need her to tell me I’m a chronic liar. How dare she? So what if it’s true? Or at least used to be. I don’t technically lie very much anymore I just omit the truth. No harm done.

If I wasn’t so opposed to killing women I might just find her house and snap her neck. But that would be unfair, I’m stronger, bigger. She’d have no chance. At least with men I’m sometimes, rarely, occasionally: equally matched. If they’re not as fit as me it’s not my problem, it’s theirs for not being able to perform a basic masculine task.

So I’ll just visualize it over and over again until I get tired of hearing that imaginary crunch and squeak.

October 4th

After the intital miffed attitude from his upset at the doctors office, he had slowly calmed after getting some much needed food in his belly. Almost like a cranky toddler, sometimes he just needed a yummy snack and a smooch to get him back on track or at least back to his ‘normal’ unregulated behavior. Though you skipped your trip to the mall for your shopping trip, rescheduling for later in the week after he had time to readjust. Halloween was a month away after all, costumes could wait.

His records were printed much quicker than you expected, especially after seeing the size of the stack. You knew he saw a therapist as a child so you assumed it was his complete history, including regular doctors as well, not just mental health files. It had to have been almost two inches thick and held together by three large binder clips. Atop the stack was a blank sheet of paper, save for his name, presumably for privacy reasons. Unfortunately for you that meant you couldn’t even catch a glimpse of it before he shoved it into the dash of his car and locked it away.

It seems the doctor was good for getting his prescription filled in an expedited manner, considering it only took two hours when you expected it would be late afternoon before the pharmacy called. You couldn’t help but wonder about what had happened behind those doors, what he’d said, what she had said; to make him so agitated. You assumed whatever was said had caused her to put a rush on his prescription refill.

The very moment he was handed the bag through the drive through window he shoved it into his door pocket to avoid you seeing the medicine’s names and doses. It made you feel like he might not trust you fully, considering how oddly he was acting about it. What kind of pill did he take that he’d assume you didn’t need to know about? It was all very frustrating though you tried your best to support him through the ordeal in the hopes that he’d share more when he was back on his medication.

He hadn’t yet, despite the quick turnaround. It’s been a week and his mood has finally stabilized and he’s back to his doting, loving, caring and helpful self. You didn’t realize how much he’d truly changed during the short period of time he was unmedicated, but after witnessing his improvement it was quite clear. You though often over those days about the conversation you’d had with his mother all that time ago. The look she’d given you, thinking it was so strange of her to have acted that way when thinking back on Anakin’s childhood… but now you began to understand he must’ve been more than a handful during his younger years. Piling on the stress of growing up, school, friends, it must’ve been nerve wracking to raise him.

His teasing comments and sly looks had returned with fervor, his touchy, wandering hands felt you as often as they could, his lips met yours during every lull in conversation, every quiet moment and tender embrace. Your boyfriend had returned to you and you wanted to make sure he never, ever went away again. Not for your benefit, but for his. Yes of course you’d prefer him to be this way, but seeing him suffer like he had been was just awful. Pulling on your heartstrings in the worst way, even as he was getting used to the medication again. He’d complain of headaches and being tired, needing extra comfort and love that you happily handed over without a qualm at all.

Now you sat in a heap on his lap, his hands in your hair and his lips gracing your bare shoulder with soft occasional kisses, resting his cheek there in between them. He’d been glued to you for hours now, like he had been touch starved or perhaps finally realizing just how distant the two of you had been recently. It was a wonderful feeling to be back in the swing of things, back to your normal, happy time together.

“What do you wanna watch next?” He asked quietly, twisting a lock of your hair between his forefinger and thumb, brushing the end across your cheek to grab your attention. “Movie’s almost over.”

“How do you know?” You asked, turning to look at him and scoot more comfortably to nestle yourself between his legs that were propped up on the footrest of the couch, a pillow behind your back to cushion you against the armrest.

“I’ve watched this movie a billion times.” He grinned, sighing as he moved to rub his arm and pull up his short short sleeve to point out a tattoo that you’d seen so many times but never really thought much about. “It’s from the movie.” He chuckled, watching you trace the words ‘Run Rabbit’ in his ink. “You didn’t notice?”

“No I guess I didn’t really connect the dots.” You admitted with a small, bashful smile at your lack of awareness. “You really like this movie that much?” You laughed.

“Hell yeah I do. Love Rob Zombie, I wish he’d make some more movies honestly.” He said with a nod, pointing to the screen and hushing you playfully. “Watch.” He grinned.

You did just that, turning your attention to the screen as Baby repeatedly stabbed one of the poor girls in the movie, over and over again until she finally sputtered and fell silent. As if it couldn’t get gross enough, Baby licked the knife clean.

“Oh nasty.” You laughed, making a gagging noise even as you remembered doing the very same for Ghost, it wasn’t gross then, certainly not gross now… it made you- no. He’s not speaking to you. You don’t miss him.

“You know, that’s his wife in real life.” Anakin said matter of factly as he gestured to the character.

“Who’s wife? Rob Zombie?” You asked to clarify.

“Yep, Baby’s his wife.” Anakin nodded, reaching over to grab the neck of his beer bottle and chug the remain few gulps before sitting it back down with a clunk. “I suppose you could say she’s his muse.” He added, for a moment you thought you saw his lip curve up.

“That’s… kind of sweet I guess.” You said with a slight laugh, grabbing a few chips but returning them to the bag as you caught a glimpse of a half eaten body on screen.

“Squeamish?” He teased, nipping your neck and poking you in the ribs to make you giggle.

“I’m sorry, I can’t munch on my salty snack while watching a man being devoured.” You snorted.

“Well I can, hand ‘em over.” He laughed, making grabby-hands toward the chip bag just out of his reach. He crunched them loudly on purpose just to try and annoy you, but it honestly wasn’t so bad considering the horrid stench you imagined would be suffocating the girl on screen as she waded through maggot infested sludge.

“You never answered my question sweetheart.” He reminded you, feeding you a chip.

“I don’t care, you pick.” You said with a shrug, chewing with your hand covering your mouth.

“Paranormal, slasher, thriller, monsters… what? At least give me that.” He chuckled wiping his hands off on a paper towel he’d stashed on the side table.

“Slasher.” You said without much thought, taking the chip bag back and rolling it up to set it aside.

“Let’s go with a classic.” He hummed, grabbing the remote as the credits rolled. “Been a while since I’ve seen Scream.”

Part Nineteen

Tag-List:

@tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwars @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @demieyesore @hemmoxloser @ahano @astarionsgirl @popcosmi @purriteen @honestlyatotalloser

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

YOU MATCH THE 141 ON TINDER 💓

The Prequel to the "It's a Match!" series.

[ The Teaser! ] || [ Chapter 1 ]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 600~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

You’ve always found the concept of rebounds hilariously dumb. Every time that trope came up on a romcom or sitcom you were watching, you found yourself rolling your eyes at it.

Then again, everything about how Hollywood portrays break-ups is ridiculous. Sobbing on the couch while eating a pint of ice cream? Putting on your ‘revenge dress’ and showing your ex what they’re missing? All BS… but you guess both of those have a time and a place… But rebounds? 

How can someone think the remedy to a broken heart or a bad break-up is… getting involved with someone else? How can that be healthy at all? You’re at your lowest and most vulnerable and you decide to let someone else in to do more damage? Ridiculous.

That’s why you scoffed and rolled your eyes when your friend Leah suggested it during film night at your flat. “C’mon, you need to get laid!” She said as she bit down on her slice of pizza.

“Oh, please-” You grumbled, slinking down on the couch. “I’m alright by myself, thanks.”

“Pfft, c’mon!” Mia, your other friend, quipped while sitting on a pillow on the floor. “You seriously need to get out of the house and find someone else!”

"No, serious, you do." Leah agreed and nodded. "What happened with that tosser Ethan should not have you isolating youself like this."

“No, thank you. I’m quite alright by myself. Don’t need that extra stress.” You retorted as you reached for another slice of pizza from the coffee table.

“What extra stress?” Leah asked. “There's nothing stressful about it! It’s sex.” She said simply, Mia quickly nodding in agreement.

“The extra stress of going out and talking to people and getting to know them…” You list it off while halfway through chewing your bite of food.

“Oh, sod off! We’re not talking about a date!” Mia quickly said as she pushed your knee lightly with her bottle of Coke.

“Yeah, it’s a shag. You don’t have to meet or talk to a bloke! You just create an account on Tinder or Bumble or something.” Leah added.

You shoot them a look of disbelief. “Oh, I’m not doing that! Are you mental? Those apps are a cesspool! There’s nothing but creeps and losers on there…” You complained.

“See, that’s the mentality of someone who wants a boyfriend out of those apps!” Mia scolded you and nudged your knee again. “If you use it with that intention of course you’ll think every bloke there is a creep. But you’re not going to use it to look for a date! You’ll use it for the same as them: a shag.” She added.

“C’mon! Hand over your phone, let’s create a profile for you!” Leah insisted and stole your phone from your hoodie’s pocket before you even had time to argue, unlocking it and getting to work downloading Tinder.

“I don’t know…” You said, uncertain, as you nibbled on your pizza slice again. “I feel like I’ll get picky and reject all of them once their profile pops on my screen.” You add.

“Then don’t.” Mia said with a shrug while she pushed up onto her knees to peek at your phone screen in Leah’s hand.

“Yeah! Just Swipe Right on all of them! You’re bound to find one that’s worth it that way.” Leah added as she began creating an account for you.

“I don’t know-” You tried saying again, not just uncertain but downright disliking the idea.

“We promise it’ll be fun!” Mia interrupted you. “Just do what we tell you! Swipe right on everyone!” Mia added. “What’s the worst that’s going to happen?”

“Worst-case scenario, you don’t like any of them enough to meet for a shag. So what? Will make no difference on your life as it currently is.” Leah added and leaned herself lightly against you, nudging you with her shoulder.

Thinking for a moment, you end up sighing and smiling. “Fine!” You said, amused. “I guess if nothing else, it’ll give me a confidence boost to have ‘em all dming me.” You joked.

“That’s the spirit!” Mia cheered and wrapped her arms around you. “Now, let’s find some pictures of you looking fit to add to your profile.” She said, causing you all to giggle.

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

[bangytell]

jk | m

Summary: Your brother's best friend has been your ultimate crush since forever, and soon you'll find out that he has been too.

Genre: friends to lovers, smut

Rated: mature

Pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: non idol au! pet names (i looove using pet names), protected sex, kinda sex in public, boobs worshiping, mentions of jealousy and a very much lovestruck Jungkook.

a/n: I just miss him so much already, in that haircut in those lives, just bring that Jungkook back to me, any ways, come to be delusional with me. I couldn't bring my mind into a title, doesn't alway have to. Also I don't have a song in mind, don't hate me please i put much effort into this.

You’re constantly aroused by the thought of your friend pinning your body, but you can’t tell a soul about your strongest desires. 

He’s your gym buddy, the shoulder you have cried on and a good friend, and it has to keep that way since he, unfortunately for you, has a girlfriend.

He’s teaching you the exercises you could do while he maintains the workout he’s currently doing, and with a hand in your lower back you feel hot in your stomach.

He’s talking to you while you imagine having him, in every possible way. 

“Understood [name]?” you nod “Do it one time for me” 

Oh i’ll do it for you many times

You do the movement as told, he grins and puts his thumb up for you, at least he used to give you praises, but you’ll take what you can get.

“I’ll be with your brother, finish the series for me and then get to cardio and you’re done” you smile and nod, getting your headphones up your head again.

You finish with ease as you see your brother and his best friend exercise at the same peace and look with detail as Jungkook body flexes and stretches each movement.

As you’re running and thinking about tomorrow's routine, you feel a hand on your shoulder, is your brother, Jimin. You pull your headphones, he speaks.

“We’re going to our dorm, are you good on your own?” Was he really asking that?

“You brought me here, what do you mean if 'm good on my own?” he chuckles

“Jungkook’s girl jus’ told us to go to this party” that girl… 

“If you dump me here i’ll snitch” he gasps

“You wouldn’t” you furrow your eyebrows 

“Try me” he grins and sees Jungkook approaching 

“Oh yeah, tell Jungkook what you jus’ told me” that filthy rat of a brother you had 

You slow the peace to the machine, as he comes closer 

“[name] Jimin already told you?” you look confused and he grins “Let me guess, you told him you’ll snitch on him”

“You know her so well dude” Jimin chuckles and now you look angry, really angry 

“You’re dumping me here to go after that…” you shush you words, in respect for Jungkook

“C’mon [name] is a holiday party, maybe your brother can finally get a girl” you scoff

“As if, please don’t do this to me… again” your temple looks like a lost puppy and it touches Jungkook soul

“You’re right, c’mon i’ll take you home” you smile 

“I knew you were better than Jimin” your time was over at the machine, you went after your backpack and followed Jungkook to his car 

“See you at the party, loser” Jimin drives off as you sit on Jungkook’s car 

“Thank you for the drive” he sighs and smiles “I don’ mean to bother”

“Don’t worry, I jus’ hope Miko won’t get mad at me” 

Oh, right. 

“She won’t just use that beautiful bunny smile of yours and she’ll forget all about it” he smiles at you as the dim light from the road lights your sight.

When you arrive at your entrance, he seems distant as if an idea has filled his thoughts.

“Kook?” he smiles “All good?” he nods but doesn’t seem like it 

“You can talk to me” he nods again, and opens his mouth as if the words were stuck at his throat 

“Good night gorgeous, see you tomorrow” that’s all he manages himself to say, you reply with a good night and leave his car, he drives off and your heart pains in its cage. 

After falling asleep with ease, your phone rings at your night stand, with a blurry vision you answer.

“Yes?” someone’s sobbing on the other line and you sit up straight, your vision returns and you notice that Jungkook’s name pops up “Kookie, what’s wrong?” he sobs a little 

“[name] can you come for me?” drive at night? it surely didn’t seem like the better idea at the moment “please, i’m at my dorm but…”

“Okay, i’ll be there, give me twenty minutes” he hums in agreement, you hung up 

Put your pajamas back on and leave a note at the fridge for your parents. 

Took the car keys and drove as fast as you could. Once outside you call him.

“ ‘m here” he hangs up and you see him, the beanie and mask hide his puffy eyes.

Inside the car you greet him “What’s wrong sweety?” he denies and pulls your arm for a hug, he sobs and pulls you closer.

“Sorry for calling so late” you caress his back and feel him relax at your touch 

“No worries” he scoffs and pulls away to look in your eyes “What happened?”

He denies and you begin to drive back home, the drive was full of Jungkook soft sobs and muffled music from your radio. 

Once there you get down, and take the note from the fridge and place another. 

Jungkook is at Jimin’s room, please don’t peek

He chuckles “You know how they are” he nods as you guide him through the halls 

Once at Jimin's door he takes his mask off. 

“Can you stay while I fall asleep” you nod, he seems delicate, as if by a simple touch would break him.

“No problem” you both enter the room, he takes his shoes and the beanie off, you leave your sneakers on the floor and lie beside him. 

“She cheated on me” he settles in your arms after being able to tell you about his state you stroke his hair and his back as he cries on your shoulder and shivers 

“ ‘m sorry Kookie” he denies and sobs 

“Is not your fault or anything” you nod “ ‘m a fool, a stupid and dumb” you keep caressing his back and answer to him 

“Why should you be? She’s the fool, the dumb and the stupid for playin’ with such an amazing catch” he chuckles 

“ ‘m no catch” you gasp 

“What? You’re good at everything you do, your amazing personality and that dazzling look you have? Anyone is the luckiest to have you as a couple” he chuckles and pulls away to look at you

“You’re sayin’ that as a friend” you deny 

“ ‘m sayin it as a woman” he nods and rests his head at your chest again

“Thank you for being here” you stroke his hair and lean to give a soft peck at his temple 

“Anythin’ for you, jus’ don’t tell Jimin I was here with you” he giggles and you feel as he drifts off to sleep. 

The next morning Jungkook wakes up to the muffled voices coming from outside and the smell of pancakes. There was a little note at the side table where his phone rested. 

There’s Jimin's old clothes in the closet, take a shower and come to have breakfast as soon as you can! 

Your pretty handwriting made him smile, he took a very needed shower, and after using a shirt that fitted and some shorts he opened the door.

Only you and your mom remained at the dining room, the sight of your stuffed cheeks laughing at something and to Jungkook your eyes had a starlight 

“Kook!” your mom stood and hugged him, his eyes were still puffy but he seemed a lot better. “Haven't seen you in a while, fancy seeing you here, without my son” he blushes and his ears become to gain that same crimson color “But, no worries you're welcome anytime” you sighed in relief and your mother helped Jungkook sit while she puts some pancakes and syrup. 

“I have to run, but please Kook, make yourself at home” 

You admired him as he filled his mouth with food. Jimin's shirt on him was a bit small but stood out his muscular body, his damp hair falled to his temple and got a bit in the way of his eyes, he was engrossed in his tasks not paying attention to your attentive gaze. 

“Don't worn me out” he speaks, gazing at you as you chuckle and flustered at his words 

“I wasn't…” you scoff and drink your glass of juice he smiles and continues to eat.

You leave to get ready for the class you have in a few minutes, and as you walk down the stairs you hear Jungkook screaming.

“Now it's my fault? You don't care where I am” he sounds… angry

“So what if she's here? That's the dumbest excuse” could he mean… you? 

You were the only one left at the house so… 

“I shouldn’t have answered your call Miko, have a nice day” he remains silent and you enter the dining room. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” he nods, hiding his face with his hands “Jimin texted me, asking for you” he gaze you

“What did you told him?” he sounds… exhausted 

“That you're okay” he nods

“He knows ‘m here” you nod and he sighs 

“I didn't tell him I was coming, or that I called you. Or anything that happened actually” he sighs

“I figured, so i jus’ told him that I knew you were okay” 

“Thank you, I'll let him know about what happened, can you give me a ride to the dorm?” you nod and he gets up leaving through the halls

You clean the kitchen and soon he appears with his old outfit. 

“ ‘m ready” you nod and grab your keys on the way out. 

The ride to his dorm is silent, no radio this time and it feels like his feelings and thoughts are eating him alive. 

“Come by home any day you want, okay?” he nods as he opens the door

“Sure, gorgeous” you rest your forehead at your steering wheel as he walks away from you. 

Being just the friend was kinda exhausting when it came to seeing him hurt. 

And what did that call he had before meant? 

By no surprise you ended up at the gym by yourself, your brother and his best friend didn't have trouble telling if they were coming, after your body got tired, you rushed home.

After a shower, you got a call from your friend, Ava. 

“Hey pookie how's your life these days?” you snort

“Remember Jungkook?” she hums 

“How can I forget, he's all you mention” you scoff and she giggles

“His now ex girlfriend cheated on him” she gasps

“No waaay” you sigh 

“Way, and he called, sobbing asking me if I could drive him to my house, Jimin was still at the party I presume” your friend gasps

“Woah, woah, he wanted to be with you?” you blush

“ ‘m his friend, ‘m sure he jus’ wanted a home” she giggles at your words 

“ y're so oblivious” you snort

“He sleeped at Jimin's room, and I stayed until he falled asleep since he pleaded me” she gasps in surprise 

“He whaaat?” you snort 

You hear your front door, and more than one voice as they make their way to the living room. Since they're far away you can't make heads or tails on who's outside 

“Sorry, were you saying something? she snorts 

“Jus’ tell Jungkook how you feel” you shake your head in deny 

“I can't to that now Ava, he jus’ been cheated” she chuckles 

“Is always bad timing with you, you’re a woman now, aren't ya’? you huff 

Suddenly short knocks on your door startled you. 

“Yes?” Ava is still on the phone when Jungkook answer with a soft “It's me”

“Gotta go Ava, call you later” with no time to answer you hung up and left your phone in the bed, standing up to open your door.

He looks much better than tonight, he doesn’t have puffy eyes and his all black outfit makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Sorry I haven't called or anything” you shake your head in denial and he sighs “I kinda been sleeping all day” you nod, and he finds your silence odd “Can we talk?” you nod and close the door as he enters your room.  

You both sit in bed, he's eyeing your room when his gaze meets yours and stays there. 

“Are you mad at me?” you shake your head in deny once again, and you don't know what makes you being flustered “Talk to me [name]” 

“Is there something you need to hear from me?” he sighs and holds your hand, caresses with his thumb and your cheeks blush 

“I jus’ don't want you to provide me the silent treatment” he seems delicate with his words, and with the way he holds and strokes your hand

“Why did you call me?” he knew that was the question that remained your thoughts, he sighed and tried to give you the answer you need 

“ I didn't know where else to go, and I felt… alone” you huff

“So… I can only get your call when you're alone?” he shakes his head in deny and your eyes become watery 

Because to you, the way he's been acting makes your heart ache in disbelief, seeing he only needs and wants your presence when it threatens to be by himself. 

You know Jungkook since you were both little, and sure he's two years older, but that never stopped your hopeless heart. Every time he got hurt you would caress him, provide words of encouragement and your unilateral love was becoming hurtful by the year. Surely you had couples before, and intimacy but your heart and mind would always think of him, on the way he makes you feel and how you know him and the way he knows and remembers so much of you. Being with anyone else wouldn't fulfill you. 

“Is not like that gorgeous, you're my friend and I…-” you pull your hand and look at him with hurt eyes

“Maybe 'm tired of being jus’ your friend” he looks confused as you stand “Don’t tell me you haven't noticed my feelings” he looks confused as you step closer and pull him to put your lips into his. 

He answers your kiss and opens his mouth a little more to deepen the kiss. You pull away and give him a hopeful gaze. 

“ ‘m sorry” you know you shouldn't have kissed him, and he's just sitting looking at your flustered body, trembling and moving with anxiety.

He holds you by the hand and pulls you to his body to hug you by the waist, he's sitting at the edge of your bed and you're stroking his hair as his arms hug you closer.

You hear knocks on your door, and your mom's voice brings you back from reality. You let go from his embrace and open the door a little just to see your mother. 

“Dinner is ready, and bring Jungkook with you” you nod and close the door. 

“Let's go downstairs before she returns and kick my door down” he chuckles and stands up, before you open the door again he holds you by the cheek and gives you a soft peck.

Your emotions and thoughts are a literal storm inside of you, you kissed him and he responded to the kiss, not only that but he gave you a kiss back. 

Are you dreaming? 

Dinner goes smoothly, Jimin is telling a story and as you try to pay attention you notice from the corner of your eye that Jungkook’s gaze pierces you. 

After dinner you hear Jimin saying that it is a great idea to sleepover in his room, your mom says it's fine. 

You stay in the living room with the television on, watching Pride and Prejudice. It was that dance scene and as they danced your attention drifted off to the body sitting next to you. 

“Do you like this movie?” you ask, as he looks at the screen, he chuckles 

“I've seen it, when you were like fifteen remember?” you nod, the memory returning to you, of your younger self when Jimin had sneaked out for a party and didn't tell Jungkook about it, so he unconsciously made Jimin grounded. That night you were watching the same movie. 

“You remember” he smiles and nods

You finish the movie and he turns at you. 

“Why is that is called Pride and Prejudice” you giggle but answer to his question anyway 

“They both were very proud and had prejudice over each other's action” he opens his mouth in a “o” as your brother walks to the living room.

“Dude, you can't sleep again?” he nods and you're prying as to why he seems to not be able to sleep when he has slept with you before “What are you looking [name]?” 

“We watched Pride and Prejudice” he puts a boring expression 

“You and your boring movies, Jungkook just sit here with you because he had nothing else to do” he arch an eyebrow and looks in your brothers way

“It was really entertaining actually, you should try and watch a movie with your sister sometime” Jimin huffs and you mouth a thank you to Jungkook

Surely Jimin preferred to do anything else than to share more than three words with you which mostly included “Dinner's ready” “Mom's calling you” “Can I borrow 20 bucks” that day you were surprised.

Jimin went back to his room and as you look for something different, Jungkook’s caught your eye. 

He's scrolling to his social media, looking as handsome as he can be, and you gulp at the exquisite sight of him. 

“ ‘m sleepy now Koo” he nods

“Go to bed gorgeous” you smile and walk to your room after taking a last glimpse at his features.

After cuddling inside your quilt and blankets you hear your phone buzz. 

[So you have feelings for me huh?] –Koo

[Ha ha if you're acting like this forget about my confession] —[name]

[I could never forget about you, or when you kissed me, is actually all there is left in my mind] —Koo

[You’re talking gibberish :D] –[name]

[You drive me insane] —Koo

You smile at your phone and turn flustered to his words. 

[I don't think you're emotionally available at the moment] —[name] 

He reads the text and doesn't answer

You weren't telling lies, he’s been recently cheated on. He can't be thinking about anything else. 

Suddenly, two soft knocks and your name being whispered by Jungkook. You open, with an open mouth, to throw a tantrum, but all is silenced when Jungkook's wet and saccharine lips are onto yours, hungry for your kisses.

You pull apart in confusion, he surely gets your blood boiling whether is the hot in your stomach wishing he'll fuck you dumb, or the way he makes you angry. 

“Jungkook what?...” he reaches to you once more but you place your hand on his chest “Please, tell me what has gotten into you?”

He looks at you like a stray puppy, and finds a seat on your bed. He sighs deeply.

“I jus’ wanna kiss you” and with a sigh, a pout on his lips and his hands covering his face

“Jungkook, your emotions are hurt and blinded by the betrayal, I don’ wanna take advantage of that” he shakes his head in denial 

“You don’t understand [name], you don’t” you kneel in front of his body and hold his hands on yours

“Help me understand then” he sighs, once more

“I didn’t realize my feelings for you until it was late, until you were dating that hideous dude” you chuckle “Then Miko got me mesmerized, or I thought she had” his gaze is on yours as he strokes your face “I fooled myself by thinking that I could… stop myself from thinking, caring and being hopelessly and deeply devoted to you” your breath stucks on your throat “Miko did me a favor by cheating on me, you were there for me… you” you place a finger on his lips

“I understand, but I can’t be your second best, I can’t feel like a side plate” he nods and pulls you for a hug, with a few tears on your face he wipes them with his fingers and gives you a soft peck.

After that, both of you spend more and more time together, he’ll bluntly flirt with you, making you feel giddy and flustered, even in front of your brother and he smiled with a “I knew you too would eventually step out of obliviousness” you both giggle and then he said “Jus’ don’t make out in front of me” 

It was Jimin’s birthday, he had a party at your house, with a few of your girlfriends from school, and almost every classmate from both jimin's year and yours was there. Jimin will always go big. 

You had your lilac dress, pouring yourself some more liqueur while the crowd and the music rumbled inside the house. Suddenly you feel a cold finger touching your elbow and you turn to find your old friend, Taehyung (who's also a friend of your brother) greeting you with his boxy smile, you give him a long hug and that's when Jungkook's attention falls into you once more.

He wasn't one to be able to call you his but the boiling blood inside him couldn't stop his mind, he was so jealous of how that boy was talking so close to you, and the way his hands went to your waist when you hugged him, he was starting to lose his temple, as his friends tried to call his name out to make him fall out of that slumber he walked your way without being fully aware of his actions, he placed a hand by your lower waist and greeted his way into your conversation.

You can't  believe Jungkook is jealous of you as he pulls you closer to his warmth, Taehyung chuckles and shakes his hand in a goodbye as he winks at you and gets lost within the crowd.

“Jeon Jungkook, don’t tell me you got jealous” you chuckle and his hands turn you so you'll face him

Soon enough your hands are around his neck as he pulls you desperately into his kiss, you both giggle and his hand goes to one of your ass cheeks and lifts you a little your stomach begins to flutter and to feel warm, he's kissing you like in desperation, as if you're gonna disappear through his hands.

You can't remember how or when in between kisses but your body is on top of Jungkook's grinding onto his jeans, and he's losing his mind eyeing your drees lifting way past your knee, the way your breasts go up and down with every movement makes you a great sight. 

“You look like a goddess right now” he holds you by your ass as you continue to grind on him, and his bulge just feels as you grind and slide in between your pussy so effortlessly. “You can only look like this for me” you nod and he grins and holds you closer to kiss you. “Use your words, doll” 

“I only do this for you Jungkook” he grins and looks your way as he tries to pull your dress out of the way

“Good girl” he smiles as he discards your dress and soon enough your bra, he cups your breasts and puts one into his mouth as he caresses them with his tongue, you begin to let out saccharine moans and try to put a hand over your mouth, he shakes his head in deny. “Don't worry my love, the music is too high for anyone to notice” your hands go to his abdomen and you love the way it feels within your fingers, you help him out of his t-shirt and leave a trial of kisses until you're off of him and begin to unbuckle his belt, soon enough he pulls his pants off and his cock bounces back once its released from his boxer, your hand cups it and without warning you put it into your mouth, his head loll back as you busy in task, he puts a hand on your head and as he hears the sound you make while making his cock full of drool and feeling good he still feels like this ain't enough. 

“Come on love, let me fuck you” those words make you stop, he kisses you and gets up to take off the rest of his clothes, he helps you get into bed and you're waiting in all fours as he takes a condom out of his wallet. He admires your body and strokes your ass cheek as the condom slips into his warm and aching cock.

He begins to slide into you, feeling the way your pussy clench and squeeze his cock.

“Ngh… you're so tight” he pulls away and slides back in just a little to have you squirming and pleading for more “You're s-... so desperate to take me in huh?” you moan, almost scream as he thrust balls deep into you.

His thrust are hitting just the right spot, making you moan his name like a prayer, his eyes full of lust eye your sweating body and grabs you by your arm to pull your back to his chest, your pleading for him not to stop, and he feels feral by the way your pleading and moaning, he loves that he's the only able to do this with you, and wants to do it every single day.

As he bullies into you his hands go to your breasts, then to your clitoris and begin to rub gently as your body shivers in pleasure

“This is how i wanna make you feel [name], I want to fuck you dumb, make you forget your name and only remember mine” he's still holding you closer to him, feeling even more of his cock inside you and he gaze your body. “C'mon [name] be my girl huh?” you nod and keep moaning, no single thought can connect to your head “Use your words love” his hand rubbing your clitoris and the other holding you in place just make you a dumb mess, you can't make it in your head to say a word. 

“You'll answer me eventually” he chuckles as he feels his orgasm form and so do you, his name leave your mouth and just a few more thrust make you orgasm, your body trembles and shivers as he thrust his orgasm into you and the condom, he moans your name and you're in the same position as both of your chests go up and down, he helps you out of his cock and you feel it like a loss.

He stands up as you get comfortable in bed, he tosses the condom to your trash can, and comes to cuddle you into bed.

“Are you okay?” you giggle and nod 

“Yes Koo, I am excellent” he chuckles “You really got jealous?” you lock gaze with him 

“Yes…” you chuckle and hug him inside your blankets his body feels warm and he loves your breasts close to him

“But only because i can't say you're my girl” oh, you haven't answered 

“I don't think between sex was the better moment to ask” he chuckles and sighs as he speaks again

“Would you let me be the guy you date? I'd be honored” you smile and pulls him into a soft peck

“Yes Koo, I'll be extra happy to be your girl” 

Two knocks on the door startled you, the music from up your room isn't all loud and you ask “Who is it?” 

“You better bring both your asses downstairs and sing me happy birthday or I'll kill you Jeon” you laugh and say that you're on your way

“I don't believe he'd actually kill you” he pulls his pants to its place and smile at you

“Wait until he hears about what just happened” you gasp 

“Don't you dare” you both laugh and go downstairs holding hands as everyone sings happy birthday to your brother. 

after>>

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©️bangytell please do not copy or steal my work, any translation can’t be done this is the only way to read it.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 012 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. minimal angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. explicit smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. physical violence. sex tapes. reader has a gun and almost uses it.

notes. i wanted the kiyoomi and suna girlies (/gn) to win so here it is! feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 12.9k

series masterlist 

[ TWELVE ] for you, i would cross the line. i would waste my time, i would lose my mind. they say “she’s gone too far this time.”

You prided yourself in being logical.

There was little to no room for measly emotions when it came to royal affairs. Granted, you had no proper training, but you were raised as a noble, and the rules were clear. Set aside your emotions, always look towards the most plausible solution, and cry about it later – where no one could see. Those were your mother’s words. You held onto them for as long as you remembered, with the exception of making only one grand mistake: proceeding with the marriage after catching your fiancé cheating on you.

But now? Now, you were about to make your next worst decision – letting Kiyoomi walk away.

It wasn’t love, of course. It couldn’t be. The odds simply weren’t in your favor, but couldn’t a Princess hope? You met him first, had him as your last dance on your debut ball. He was the first Prince who ever held your hand, the first Prince to dance with you, and the first – possibly last – who reminded what love could feel like. What love should feel like. It was explosive and angry like fire licking up at your skin, begging, pleading at you to chase after him. Every nerve in your body protested as you watched him take one more step away from you. It’s a mistake, one I’ll regret – Don’t let him go. It screamed at you, its cries desperate to be heard. You didn’t want to be here in the Palace. You didn’t want to return to your shared quarters with Rintaro.

You wanted to go back to Itachiyama – his farmhouse, the castle ruins, riding aimlessly with Astra and Lucy, picking fruits from his garden, and spending hours in his library. You hadn’t even held your end of the promise yet to learn everything about him.

What did Kiyoomi love? What did he look like in his slumber? Does he talk in sleep? Does he steal the blankets? What about his favorite song?

You moved before you could think.

Closing the distance in hurried strides, you grasped the Prince’s elbow. He stiffened under your touch, his eyes unreadable through the dimly-lit hallways. “Your Highness. Wait,” you panted, “Listen… back at Itachiyama–”

“Do you want me?”

Your grip on him faltered. Briefly, you took a step back, but the Prince was having none of it. He easily closed whatever distance you attempted to put between you two, his face hard and eyes burning with passion. With yearning. You never thought a man could look so determined yet hopeless as he did, the picture-perfect image of ardor. His brows pinched together, his lower lip trembling as he sighed. “Do you want me?”

You shook your head.

If only it could be as simple as that.

“It’s wrong, my Prince. We couldn’t… We wouldn’t work out. I only meant to say that I do adore you, and I do not want whatever complicated feelings we have to ruin our friendship,” Lies. Every word uttered from your lips were nothing but measly lies. Kiyoomi could tell too – the hesitation written all over your face said otherwise. “I hope you understand. You and I – we’re impossible.”

You couldn’t tell which one you needed more: for him to deny your worries, or for him to agree that you were right. You figured both would be just as painful.

Kiyoomi’s nostrils flared as you looked away from him, feet shuffling in the other direction already. “Stop. Do not take another step. Don’t you dare,” with a low growl, you were suddenly pulled back against his warm chest. You gasped at the hardness of his body, the warmth of his skin, the tenderness of his touch. His lips were everywhere but the one place you needed it to be – lingering at the curve of your neck, his breaths fanning over your exposed collarbones. It was like he had set you on fire with one touch alone, his firm grip around your waist both eerily intimidating and lustrous. And he must’ve laughed – you weren’t sure anymore. All you knew was that you were completely under Kiyoomi’s mercy, and quite frankly, he could have his way with you as he pleased.

“If you do not choose me…” murmuring, your breath hitched as his lips briefly grazed your skin, making your pulse jump. “You will regret it. You will be unhappy with him.”

I’m already unhappy with him, you wanted to say, but the words died in your mouth.

You’d lost all forms of coherence under Kiyoomi’s spell. Especially in this compromising position, this scandalous way his hand now slowly trailed its way from your abdomen and up to the swells on your chest – Gods, what would any witnesses say? This wasn’t how a Prince held a woman that wasn’t his.

“Your Highness,” you tried to fighting from his grasp, only to fall momentarily back against him when finally, finally, his lips were now leaving marks on your neck. It took all of your willpower to not give in right there, to not sink your fingers in his delicious curls. You had to say no. “I-I think we’ve both had a long night. We should retire to our quarters.”

“I will allow it if it’s my quarters you’ll be sharing.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck – your gaze darted around the empty hallway, paranoid.

The lights had been dimmed hours ago, the staff retiring to their rooms, but it was so quiet your breathy moans could echo. Anyone could walk in and see you like this, pleading but not quite begging for the Prince to not stop holding you.

And it was wrong, so deliciously wrong.

“Please,” you closed your eyes, unable to stop yourself from craning your neck to give him access. Above you, Kiyoomi chuckled, the rumbling of his chest deliciously low.

“You should stop lying to yourself, Princess. You do not want him. Whatever attachment you still have for my brother, it is nothing but a pitiful excuse of familiarity. You keep him around because there is no other choice, but you cannot keep lying to yourself. You cannot keep lying to me that you do not feel as I do when I see the way you look at me,” grasping your chin with his much larger hand, Kiyoomi forced you to look into his eyes. Pools of inky depths stared back at you with part frustration, part lust – his skin already flushed with sweat. You couldn’t look away even if the world ended. There was only you and Kiyoomi, with his hand resting on top of your breasts and gently caressing, so light you might’ve thought he wasn’t there.

And you, breathless and reckless, clung to him like he was your last lifeline.

Kiyoomi dipped down. His nose brushed against yours, your breaths mingled before he breathed you in greedily. “I was never a man who had many desires, but you are the greatest of them all. You run through my mind even in my sleep, and you are the first thing I search for when I wake. So do not tell me you do not want me when I know it’s my name you cry out in your sleep.”

Your knees felt impossibly weak.

“What do you want me to do? I’m married. You’re married. Are you forgetting divorce is impossible?” you snapped back, shoving him until his back hit the wall. The painting above him clattered, yet the Prince seemed uncaring, his arms crossed against his chest as you breathed hard. This was preposterous – this could not go any longer. “This would never work. The people would never understand.”

“I do not care what they think.”

“I care what they think! My husband is already cheating on me, and his own people detest him for it. What more if they find out I have taken you as my lover?”

“Then tell me to go,” he whispered, tilting his head back as he stared at you almost defiantly, mockingly. Like he knew you wouldn’t have the courage to actually say it. “Tell me, and I will walk away.”

When Kiyoomi is met with silence, he scoffed. A smirk graced his handsome face before he’s grabbing you by the arm and twisting you, the positions reversed until your back hit the wall. There’s a slight ache pounding at the back of your head, but nothing – absolutely nothing – could tear your attention away from his lips crashing into yours. The kiss is nothing short of avidity. Kiyoomi devoured you like a man starved, molding the shape of his lips into yours while his large hand encompassed the entirety of your face. Thumbs running over your cheek, his imposing frame completely dominated you. Your bodies were now pressed into each other that it became difficult to tell where you began and the Prince ended.

All you knew was Kiyoomi kissed you like he spent most of his nights dreaming about it, sighing and groaning all at once before his tongue fought for dominance.

Pushing his tongue inside your willing lips, he tasted all of you. He spoke the words he struggled to say, the firm grasp on your hip keeping you in place beneath him a clear sign he didn’t want you anywhere but here. But you weren’t leaving. You’d be a fool to walk away now that you finally had a taste of him, and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

You wanted more, needed more.

Kissing him back harder, your palms flattened on his chest before you balled his shirt into your fists, uncaring if he’d walk back home flustered and wild. You simply needed him there; you wanted to breathe him in, to have nothing but him as your entire world.

“Stay,” you pleaded in between kisses, letting the Prince maneuver you until your bum landed flat on a table. Uncaring, the Prince swept aside all knick-knacks placed above it when his lips found yours again. And oh, a greedy man he was. Even after kissing you until you were breathless, he still hadn’t had his fill. His tongue danced with yours in this gentle melody only you two could sing, your bodies moving in sync like a choreographed dance. Your hand would wound up to tangle itself in his dark locks, his hands would scramble to undo his breeches, and willingly – wantonly – you would welcome him with all your being. It’s a dance between lovers, a forbidden tune you sang wholeheartedly, accompanied by your high-pitched moans once the Prince had himself buried in you – “Oh. Oh.”

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You, my Prince, it’s you,”

Biting down on your lip to muffle the noises you made, you heard the crescendo of the music. Rising and rising with overwhelming intensity at each note hit, each perfect thrust and drive into you. He hadn’t felt like anyone else. He was thicker and spread you open, impaled on his stiffness while you sat there helplessly to take it all. You felt empowered and weak at the same time, with your legs locking behind his chest as tears rolled down your face from the pleasure of it all, but Kiyoomi showed no signs of stopping.

Heavens, he might not even stop tonight, not when you sucked him in tight and made his breath stutter, his thrusts staggered.

“Kiyoomi,” you cried out, unable to keep quiet any longer. He simply held you carefully, a great contrast to his hips pistoning in and out of you – no, he held you like you were a porcelain doll he feared would break, someone he had to protect and cherish. And his eyes – droopy yet adoring – gazed upon you like you were worth more than any crown. “Oh, you are so…”

His forehead landed on top of yours, his lips minutely brushing against yours for a quick kiss. It’s rushed, frantic, yet intimate in ways you’d never experienced before. For once, sharing bodies with someone didn’t feel like just like sex.

For once, you finally made love with someone.

“Choose me, Princess,” he gritted his teeth, “It was always meant to be me.”

You awoke with a gasp.

Sitting up, your heart pounded in your chest, your skin clammy and drenched with sweat. A scan of your surroundings told you that you were in your room, the empty side of your bed a sign Rintaro kept to his word and left you alone. Closing your eyes, your head dropped down to your palms.

So it had been a dream, after all.

You really allowed Kiyoomi to walk away from you. And one mistake leading into another, you let Rintaro do the same.

Regret churned at your stomach. You could see it perfectly now – the drooping of the Prince’s shoulders, his gaze cast downwards when you bid him farewell. There were still traces of the happiness you felt in Itachiyama lingering on him just as he finally left, ones you were compelled to reach out to before it was too late. But it couldn’t be – you refused to give into your desires when it meant committing a sin. Rintaro didn’t deserve your loyalty, but he was still your husband, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’d been exactly like him.

In fact, you might be becoming like him with each passing day, and although you would never say it out loud, you understood him better now.

To find someone who could’ve been yours, someone who would’ve made you so happy against all odds, and to not have them at all – it felt like a cruel joke was being played by the Universe.

Is this what Rintaro felt like? Did he feel as if the world was being unusually cruel to him? Did he wonder what he could’ve done to deserve all this? Because those thoughts ran into your head long enough that you gave up on sleep, and rolled out of bed with a heavy heart and – shamefully – aching with need. Snatching your robe from the closet, you tiptoed out of the room. Rintaro was fast asleep in the sofa, his arm shielding his eyes from the lit candles. When he didn’t budge from his spot at you poking around him, you let out a sigh of relief and left the room. Clicking the door shut, you spun around, coming face to face with a wide eyed maid.

“Heavens!” you placed a hand on your chest, and then chuckled as the maid stepped back and bowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone would still be around.”

The maid frantically shook her head. She scratched the back of her head as her gaze darted around, seemingly determined to not look you in the eye. “No, Your Highness, it was my fault for startling you. I was reassigned to you just now, you see, and… Uhm, I’m Airi. Prince Shinsuke sent me here.”

Airi… You’d heard that name before.

“Oh! Airi. Yes, of course, I remember you,” you nodded, tying the robe around your waist tighter. “Why are you up this late?” At your question, Airi’s cheeks flushed a deep red before turning away.  You smiled to yourself, chuckling under your breath as you gently squeezed her arm. “I understand. You needn’t say anymore.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to accompany me for a walk?” you gestured to the empty hall. Airi nodded, a little too enthusiastic in picking up her skirts. You figured neither of you wanted to stay here any longer where anyone could easily see you.

Turning to the other direction, you headed for the gardens at the outer wing. It was the closest to your shared room with Rintaro, and coincidentally, an infamous shortcut to Belleview’s surrounding gardens. There had been rumors that Belleview was added in the palace grounds as an afterthought years ago – how a sudden need arose to have a separate place for a married couple. It was bizarre, in your opinion, how this long, seemingly endless path would certainly end up right at Kiyoomi’s doorstep if you were patient enough to brave the half hour walk.

Could you?

Would you?

Absentmindedly, you gnawed at your nails. Your Mother would chastise you for the unladylike gesture if she were here, but it was only you and Airi. She wasn’t going to judge, although you didn’t miss the way she glanced at you so often. Curiosity, maybe, but a question imposed her eyes. Deciding to break the silence, you smiled at the dark-haired maid.

“You’re very pretty. I can see why the Prince fell for you.”

Airi stuttered in her steps. “Oh! Thank you, you’re too kind for that, but I doubt it’s because of the way I look. The Prince and I have known each other since we were kids, that’s all. My mother was a maid too before she died. She was the one who helped raise His Highness,” she babbled, grimacing when she realized your patient smile held little to conceal your amusement. “Uhm… If I may be so bold, my Princess, I think you look rather great for someone who has been cheated on.”

Your brows rose. That you hadn’t expected.

“I do?”

“Yes. You look unbothered by it, or at least, you seem to be doing a great job at it,” she offered a polite smile, “Being a royal must come naturally to you as a noblewoman.”

Unable to help it, you chuckled. Oh, how wrong she was.

“Not at all. I haven’t always been this way,” you told her, watching as your surroundings changed from the marble pillars and into the night sky, where the fresh, cold breeze bit at your skin. You were thankful for it – the cold atmosphere was a great contrast to the blooming, colorful flowers.

It somehow reminded you of Kiyoomi’s gardens, and how you probably wouldn’t see it anymore.

The smile on your face disappeared. The ring on your finger grew heavier, and unbeknownst to you, you started spinning it with your thumb. It was curious, truly, how a week was all it took before you completely lost yourself. You couldn’t remember who you were even like before Itachiyama, before Kiyoomi. Or could it be that the past you had never been fulfilled to begin with? What if you were merely a work in progress, and the you in this moment was the real one?

If that was true, then that could only mean two things you would never want to admit out loud.

One: that you weren’t as in love with your husband as you thought if you couldn’t get Kiyoomi out of your mind, or Two: that the traditional saying and belief was right – your last dance would be your fated lover.

And it would make sense, too. Of course, you were happy with Rintaro. Were. You fell in love with him simply because there was no other appropriate reaction. He was the Crown Prince, a man who called on you every single day and learned about your passions until night came. He charmed your parents, loved them as his own, and proudly presented you to his regal family. It was the kind of love little girls were taught to dream about. The kind of love everyone wanted. You couldn’t blame yourself for craving the Prince’s touch, for giving him all your firsts. It seemed only the right thing to do. He courted you, committed to you, loved you as much as he could – it was logical and methodical.

It was one plus one equals two.

But Kiyoomi? It didn’t feel natural, or a step by step process.

It felt all kinds of wrong because you shouldn’t, and all kinds of right because it’s him. It’s the way he smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking, or how his head is always turned in the other direction to act like he isn’t listening. He isn’t like Rintaro who never takes his gaze off of you – not because he can’t get enough of your beauty, but because he was watching. Rintaro was always watching, analyzing everything you did, crafting his actions and words perfectly to elicit the response he wanted from you.

His brother was the exact opposite.

Kiyoomi always stayed at the walls and blended in with the background. He never attracted any attention to himself, but would devote his entire focus on you simply because he’s entranced. Or you hoped he might. Surely it couldn’t be one-sided.

You felt it too – the frustration ebbing off of him each time you slipped away. You saw with your own eyes the way his face fell when news of your husband’s affair spread.

He didn’t hate his brother for sleeping with his mistress behind your back. He hated Rintaro for ruining a night that should’ve been yours. A night where his touch could linger on yours for a moment longer as you smiled for the cameras. A night where it’d be appropriate for him to look at you like you’re the star of the show – it’s camaraderie, you’d play off – and a night where he might’ve drove you back at the farmhouse and slowly, tenderly, begin with tugging your gloves off before he moved on to your dress.

Gods. You exhaled. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Kiyoomi, his plump lips that looked inviting, his dark eyes hungrily roaming over you and hoping, praying, that it’d been him instead. These were all wrong – so why were you walking towards Belleview?

“Your Highness?”

Airi’s voice snapped you out of your trance. Blinking, you smiled back at her in apology and continued. “Sorry, I must have been lost in my thoughts. As I was saying, though, I spent most of my life hiding behind my parents’ shadows because I struggled talking to people. And then the Crown Prince came and swept me off my feet, which changed everything. When he came into my life, I figured I had to become someone worthy enough to stay by his side, someone he could be proud to be with. It took a lot of years and effort before I could be confident enough to say I was good enough for him,” you mumbled, stopping in your tracks to look up into the dark horizon before you.

Huh. Why hadn’t you realized that before?

You’d been trying so hard to impress Rintaro all along. Isn’t that why you were so frustrated? You’d spent years molding yourself to become who he wanted, only to be slapped in the face that it was impossible because you could never be her.

You let out a dry laugh. “But apparently not. He already had someone else.”

“I’m really sorry you were dragged into this. From the stories Prince Shinsuke tells me, you’re a kind woman who deserved better.”

“I don’t know about that,” you said, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t mad upon reading the tabloids about his affair? If anything, I was just furious he couldn’t stay out of trouble and ruined my trip to Itachiyama.”

“Did you like it there?”

“I loved it. I wanted to stay.”

Admitting it out loud felt… liberating. You were beginning to feel more like yourself, even if it meant being less of a Princess and more of this unorthodox woman who simply wanted to be. It must be the side effect of spending time with Kiyoomi. You would soon care less about the rules imposed on you, and unapologetically be yourself.

“But the world sure has a cruel way of bringing you back to reality.”

“Your Highness?”

Both yours and Airi’s head snapped at the sound. Amongst the rustling of the bushes, a tall figure suddenly appeared – all mighty and regal even in his creased blouse and loosely tied breeches. His hair, dark and tousled like he’d run his fingers through it, did little to hide the surprise on his face.

“My Prince,” you breathed out, “What are you doing out here so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And you?”

You fought back a smile at his raspy voice. You could almost picture it – Kiyoomi tossing and turning all night in a bed separate from Iris. The sanguine voice in your head fibbed, too, wondering if the Prince thought about you as well. “It’s a restless night,” was all you let on, and gestured to the shock-still maid beside you. “Airi, do you mind giving us some privacy?”

Vehemently, she shook her head. “Not at all, Princess. Please, call for me if you need anything. I won’t be far.”

You waited as Airi disappeared from sight before you stepped closer to the Prince, compelled by an invisible force to be closer to him. “Kiyoomi–”

“Are you well?”

“Me? Why do you ask?”

He tipped his head to the side, causing a lone curl to fall in front of his eye. You fought back the urge to brush it away, beguiled by his long fingers sweeping it away “You’re in a very difficult position right now, whatnot with the article spreading,” he gestured back to the castle, “Has he spoken to you?”

You shook your head. “He’s kept to himself the past few days. I think this is a lot harder on him than it looks. As for me, well… I’ve had better days.”

True to your word, Rintaro almost secluded himself from the world. He shut off his phone, chucked it at another corner of the room, and never touched it again. It was painful seeing your husband that way when you know of his hobby of endless scrolling. But now, he couldn’t stomach the social media wishing him ill, seeing so blatantly with his own eyes his people’s deference to him. It hurt – more so for him than you – but still, a small part of you wished he’d say something. You were there, were you not?

You cut off your trip short because your husband needed you, and he barely uttered a word since you arrived. It got at your nerves. Nevertheless, you’d give him the time he needed. You planned to keep to your word that you would fix this all for him, regardless of what that might take.

You weren’t so cruel to let your husband be dragged into the pits of hell. Because quite frankly, that wasn’t the media’s right to begin with. If anyone would unleash hell upon Rintaro and Iris, it had to be you.

Kiyoomi scanned your face. “You don’t seem upset about all of this.”

You shrugged. “Their secret would’ve gone out one way or another. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I have far, bigger things to worry about, like you,” you leveled your gaze with his, watching as the Prince sucked in a breath.

Your last conversation with him the past night still played in your mind. It ate away at you to have to say goodbye when you didn’t want to, but he was here now. You woldn’t waste the opportunity to make things right.

Steeling yourself, you shut your eyes tight to gather courage. “Kiyoomi… Your Highness. I… I do not wish to stop talking to you. I know I sound absurd because I haven’t known you that long, but everything we shared in Itachiyama, I cherish it. I won’t forget a single memory I shared with you. So please allow me to take back what I said. I didn’t mean it when I said I would stop talking to you.”

“You should, though.” Opening your eyes, your heart dropped into your stomach when the Prince took a step back. “I don’t think we can be friends, Princess.”

Your hands grew cold and clammy.

“W-Why not? Have I done something to offend you? Tell me, and I will correct it–”

“We cannot be friends because I do not wish to be just your friend.”

Whatever distance he created between you disappeared. In the blink of an eye, Kiyoomi had closed the gap in one smooth stride, leaning down close enough his nose nearly brushed yours.

You inhaled sharply at the proximity. Kiyoomi’s heat blanketed you, making you realize you’d been shivering from the cold prior to his arrival. Now, he was here, and your senses were filled to the brim with him – his scent, his warmth, his frame looming over yours making you feel protected instead of small. You couldn’t help it; your fingers twitched to pull him by his collar and finally have his lips pressed to yours. It’d been eating away at you for several nights.

A peck couldn’t hurt.

But you made no move, greedily sharing in the same breaths instead. Because if it was all you could have, then it was all you could get.

“You’re right. It does sound absurd. We have barely spoken to one another, yet I’m already tired  of this stupid game my brother is playing – his foolish plans to become King, make my wife his concubine, all with the intention of keeping you around like a pet. It makes my blood boil,” Kiyoomi grinned, though it was more sinister than genuine. “He cannot have everything for himself. I will not let him.”

“My Prince. I–”

“–Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with you, nor do I have any intentions of stooping down to Rintaro’s level and stealing what isn’t mine,” cruel, you think, as the Prince effectively cut you off with a brush of his thumb to your lips. You were now putty at his hands; melting and knees weakened with nothing but his touch holding you up. “But I am tired of seeing you this distraught over a man who cannot see your worth. I have had enough. So whatever plans you may have to retaliate, tell me, and I will gladly be a pawn in your game. Make your move. You may command me as you please.”

It took a moment before his words dawned on you. When it did, your palms flattened on his chest, absorbing its warmth and feeling the flutter of his heart underneath your fingertips. He felt so alive, whole, and well – you couldn’t possibly drag him into your mess.

“I could never use you like that. You know this.”

“So you do have a plan in mind,” he noted with a smirk, fingers crawling up to circle your wrist. “My brother really underestimated you, hasn’t he? You’re already proving to be far more dangerous than any sword.”

You flushed warm at his compliment. Pretty, yes, Rintaro has called you that multiple times. Beautiful, gorgeous, even, but dangerous? It made you feel powerful, like the crown was already on your head, and the kingdom was all yours for the taking. But greed often started out as a small flicker of fire, and you stomped on it as quickly as it breathed into life. You were no thrill seeker – you would not dabble or tread in dangerous, unknown, forbidden paths. Such paths like Kiyoomi, but it was there. The temptation. The calling to just reach out to the hand he’s offered.

Its voice beckoned you. Come, it whispered oh-so-sweetly at your ear, he is your puppet.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation. “It isn’t a good plan at all, and the Queen has summoned us – all of us – to inform us of her decisions on how we will proceed with this scandal. There’s a good chance Her Majesty might get in the way, but I’m determined. I need this plan to work.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I plan on turning the tables around and pinning it on Iris. I know it’s dangerous – she’s your wife, and you might get caught in the crossfire–”

“Do as you please.”

“Are you serious?”

Kiyoomi nodded with resolve. “When I said I do not wish to be just your friend, I meant it. I want you to use me. I want to be your weapon,” nudging his nose with yours, he brought up your hand to his lips, kissing the glimmering diamond on your ring. A kiss of rebellion, a war cry, or a silent plea to be dominated – it said everything and too little all at once. “If there is anything I can do to help you escape this royal hell, I will do it.”

You closed your fist around his lips, and basked in the ghostly flutters it will leave upon your skin hours after he has gone. Then, you questioned it all: how could something so poignant evoke a raging will within you?

“It will be hard for you, Your Highness,” you warned him, “My plan is not a kind one.”

“I do not have very kind thoughts myself,” he chuckled, the sound dark and ominous. “But you should be careful, Princess. Iris is not who you think she is. If you are to proceed with your plan, you need to watch out for yourself, and Maiko especially.”

Maiko? What could Maiko’s involvement with Iris be?

“She won’t hurt Maiko, will she?”

“She wouldn’t dare, but I can’t guarantee she won’t try doing something to you,” with a wary gaze, Kiyoomi immediately masked it with that of indifference. Scanning the surroundings, and hearing nothing but the crickets of insects and the rustling of bushes from the wind, Kiyoomi wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you back. Iris is probably somewhere close.”

You were never one to feel much fear, but in that moment, a sense of numbing chill settled in your bones. Goosebumps arose on your skin. It was almost like you could feel it – her sharp gaze, her wicked and deceivingly innocent smile. You shivered despite yourself and huddled closer to the Prince, letting him guide you through the garden’s maze when his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Do you wish to know what would make Iris tick?”

“What?”

“It may be Rintaro who she wants,” his breathy voice caressed you, sending a different set of shivers down your spine. “But it is I whom she would kill to keep. Present yourself as a threat, make her believe you can steal me from her, and you will find her willingly offering Rintaro to you.”

You scoffed. “And if I don’t want him?”

“Then you shall always have me.”

Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi…

The Prince’s last words haunted you. Moreover, the way he looked with the moonlight illuminated upon him… he felt surreal. He came to you in your dreams more than once, caressing you in places he shouldn’t be touching, filling you in ways you never thought possible. A part of you wondered if it was merely your brain coping with the fact you’d mistakenly lain in bed with Rintaro. How you’ve felt disgusted with yourself ever since, and found it hard to look in the mirror. Perhaps it was simply a trick of the brain – replacing the man who left marks on you with the man that could’ve made you feel better. And you knew Prince Kiyoomi would – with those large, calloused hands, and luscious lips you spent countless hours gazing upon… would it be such a sin to wish they hadn’t been dreams only?

Picking up the nearby body wash, you scrubbed yourself clean of Rintaro. Your body still ached from last night’s events, but your heart clenched for an entirely different reason. Seriously. You couldn’t believe it. First, he’d let himself get caught in the action, and you let him sleep with you? You could’ve pushed him away. You could’ve said no.

It didn’t have to lead to whatever happened last night.

But then again, laughing to yourself, why did you chastise yourself so much? He was your husband. You were both married – sleeping with him wasn’t a mistake. Yet why did it feel like it? It felt as if… you kept on letting him take and take from you. How long until you’ve had enough? How much more could you give before there was nothing left of you?

You sighed, sinking deeper under the water. It’d been hours since your previous encounter with the older prince, and he hadn’t left your mind since. His offer for you to make use of him like he was a weapon, or worse, a tool, wasn’t an opportunity you could let pass by.

You could make use of him. He had more access to Iris than you ever could, and planting spies in Belleview Manor sounded terrible. She’d probably won over their loyalty judging by the way they kept their mouths shut that first night you arrived there to give her tea for her ‘headache.’ She had secrets, that you were sure of, but did Kiyoomi know them too? What was her connection with Maiko? Surely… Maiko wasn’t involved in whatever schemes they had in mind. The Princess was too sweet and innocent for that, but then again, so was Iris. The so called ‘dear friend’ of your boyfriend before he’d asked for your hand in marriage.

This was proving to be nearly impossible.

It was hard to tell who to trust within the Palace. Kita would be at your side, but you couldn’t possibly involve him in your plan. He might not even approve of it. It would be against the law, and it wasn’t the kindest thing one could think of. Kita would call it ‘the opposite of justice.’

“I hope the meeting went well, Princess?”

Popping your head from the water, you watched as Airi entered the room, folded towels in her arms. She’d prepared a bath for you long before you arrived, the water warm and filled with bubbles – just how you liked it. The room smelled faintly of roses, too, and you made a mental note to thank Airi for her efforts.

“It was great. His Highness and I discussed a lot,” he almost kissed me, too, but she didn’t need to know that, or the fact you wished he did. “Oh, and Airi.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

You pondered over it, you really did it. It was out of your character to abuse the power you had, yet you couldn’t stop the heat flaring in your veins. The pettiness that begged to be revealed. “Could you have someone call L’Essenxe Royale? Tell them I want them to discontinue their Vanilla Candy line because I’m allergic to it, and it would be a shame if I had to stop purchasing their perfumes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Airi nodded, stopping in her tracks after a beat. “I wasn’t informed you were allergic to vanilla. I’m sorry, I’ll do better in catering to your needs more.”

“I’m not allergic. I just don’t want to smell Iris ever again.”

Just before Airi could respond, the doors swung open. Suna sauntered in like he owned the place, the top three buttons of his white shirt undone and loose. His collarbones and the top of his chest shone with sweat, his skin flushed and his dark hair messily swept to the sides. He must’ve gone for his early training – and damned him for looking good.

You snorted inwardly. But Prince Kiyoomi probably looked better.

“There you are. I didn’t get to see you before I left.”

“Airi, please give us a moment,” you requested from where you sat, arms lazily resting on the sides of the tub. Airi scurried out of the room with reddened cheeks – no doubt picturing what events could transpire between a naked wife and her insatiable husband. And speaking of said husband, he’d leant against the pristine white walls, arms crossed against his chest as he let those dark, hooded eyes roam over your exposed skin.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I think the real pleasure here is this view.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is that what you told your mistress too when you fucked her in my bed?”

Suna paused. It was a bait; he was sure of it. Choosing not to bite at your provocation, he pushed his weight off the wall and gestured to the doors. “You redecorated the room,” he announced, “Without my permission.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission. I thought we made it clear – under your suggestion – that I was to sleep in that bed, and you take the couch outside. Technically, that would make it my room, no?”

“You made Airi burn the sheets.”

“Sue me.”

“You threw away Iris’ clothes.”

“They barely counted as clothes, Your Highness. They were just thongs.”

“If this is about last night–”

“Last night was a mistake. Never speak of it again,” you warned, and just the mere reminder that you’d let him have his way with you, and you were too weak to refuse, again, no longer made the relaxing bath enjoyable. All of Airi’s efforts poured down the drain because having Suna around had your muscles stiffening with tension again. Rising from the bath, you wiped off the bubbles and suds off your body before stepping out. “What did you truly come here for? You never bother me when I’m bathing.”

Suna’s hungry gaze followed your every movement. The perverted bastard wasn’t even trying to hide it – his poor attempts of adjusting his breeches a failure once you’d put on your robe. “Her Majesty has summoned us for breakfast. She has an important announcement to make. I suggest you make haste so she won’t be anymore upset with us.”

“With you, you mean,” you waved around your lip balm, “What? Don’t look so offended. I am not the one who caused a scandal here.”

“I’m tired of arguing with you.”

You couldn’t agree more. Smacking your lips together, you walked past him, making sure to sashay your hips as you did. But before you could leave the room, Suna’s hand shot out to wrap it around your wrist. Gently, he pulled you back into him until your breasts brushed with his chest, the dampness of your robe making his shirt stick even harder on his skin.

 “Wait,” he breathed out, not once taking his eyes off you as he blindly swiped for a towel. “Let me dry you off properly. It would be a shame if you made a mess on your newly decorated room.”

Your husband fell down on his knees before you could say a word.

You almost asked him what he was doing when his hands tugged at the ties of your robes, his tender touch pushing them past your shoulders until the robe pooled at your feet. You inhaled sharply. Suna was kneeling before you, caressing your leg and urging you to place at his thigh. You don’t know what compelled you to obey, but you did. Resting it on his leg, you felt too exposed – his nose was right at your stomach, his hands touching everywhere but that one place near your heat.

It was torture.

The entire act was done with slow, purposeful motions. Like an artist taking great care with his sculptures, he pressed hard on your hips to keep you in place when you shivered. His strength, his silent gestures that he wouldn’t let you slip and fall – it broke your heart.

Why couldn’t he love you?

Why couldn’t he touch you this way and mean it?

Why did he have to remove his ring?

The glint of the golden material caught your attention from the vanity. You picked it up where he left it last night, unconsciously hugging it to your chest until you fell asleep. Until now, you’d brought it with you, and stared at it hard enough it might’ve melted. It never did, just as he would never belong to you. And then – his finger swiped over your nipple, the cloth on his hands now damp and his breath staggering as he moved to kiss your bare stomach.

You pushed his head away.

Suna stumbled back, barely. He sat there with a dazed expression, the towel he used to dry you with now forgotten. His hands shook in his lap, his eyes blown wide with something you couldn’t quite name – longing, regret, frustration. Whatever it was, it matched yours.

“I’m dry enough,” you told him, snatching off his ring from the counter and flicking it his way. The two of you watched as it stumbled along the ground with a loud clink, clink, clink, before it rolled right at his feet. When you finally found the courage to speak, your voice was so quiet – you couldn’t hear yourself at all. “Wear it. I don’t care that it no longer means anything to you. I won’t have you causing anymore problems for me when your mother asks about it.”

When you and Suna sat next to each other at the dining hall, neither of you spoke a word.

In fact, not a single person present dared to. Her Majesty sat at the head of the table, the clink of her utensil the only thing audible as she furiously cut into her steak. She was furious, that much was obvious. Even Crown Prince Ushijima hadn’t touched his meal, and his young son, barely a boy of eight, had his lips shut the entire time.

Finally, she takes a bite, takes a huge drink of her wine, and slams the glass down. All of you jump at the sound.

“It is not every day we can all be gathered here, but as you are all aware, it is a trifling time for the Crown. We as the royal family need to be united now more than ever,” she announced, her back straight as she looked everyone in the eye. “Which is why I am here to inform everyone of some minor changes we will implement from now on, and some events we have planned for the next season. First of all, Princess–” she pointed her knife your way, “-I need you to hold your mother back. She’s getting on my nerves with all her incessant calling.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she lifted her chin, “Your Mother hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article was released. She demands I return her to you, but I think she forgets her place and yours. You are a Princess now; you are the Crown’s property. You are to stay here and see to your duties until you take your last breath.”

Forcing a smile, you willed yourself to calm down. “My mother was merely concerned, Your Majesty. I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you to tell her to stand down. I have already spoken with my advisors our next course of action and have all decided that we will deny Rintaro and Iris’ affair by all means. We are to pretend as if the article never existed. We need to show we are the Crown, the monarchs and rulers of this grand kingdom. We will not be swayed by measly gossip and defaming rumors.”

“But it wasn’t a rumor. The Crown Prince did sleep with the Princess.”

Her Majesty sighed, the sound dramatically drawn out. “Do you have any complaints, my dear? Because if you did, then you should have attended the meeting this morning.”

You gritted your teeth. “I wasn’t informed there was one.”

“That’s a shame – I thought Rintaro would tell you. It seems he likes to keep his secrets, then,” she jabbed, and your husband nervously sipped his wine as you glared at the sides of his head. “Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we planned a few events for this season. For this month, the four of you will be showing up to public events and you are to appear united in marriage. Laugh, kiss, hold hands – I do not care. Just make sure the cameras get it, and if anyone dares ask on any clarifications about the affair, simply tell them that it is very easy to fabricate photographs nowadays. You will deny everything. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” agreed Suna, and you scoffed. Snaking his hands under the table, he squeezed yours in assurance and whispered, “Don’t cause a scene in front of the Queen. We will talk later about this.”

“I was hoping we would.”

“Next, Iris and Y/N will be having weekend dates to show they are friends. We have already contacted an orphanage you will pay a visit to. Play with the kids, read storybooks with them, and get as many pictures as possible. Not only will it show that there’s camaraderie between you two, but hanging out with children will also imply that we can expect a next line of heirs soon.”

“A splendid idea!” Atsumu beamed, the first to dig into his meal. Rather, the Prince was halfway finished stuffing his mouth, happily rubbing his hands together at the thought. “This will all be good for the Crown, and to win the people’s trust back.”

“You really don’t know how to shut up, huh?” muttered Osamu.

“Your Majesty. Don’t you think this is going too far?” Tobio spoke up, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. Beside him, Prince Shinsuke was pleading for him to sit back down. The youngest Prince merely slapped his hands away, looking betrayed by his brother’s words. “Why is no one speaking up? Is this how the royal family really is? You would all lie to your people, deceive them we are all in one heart and mind when we are not. Is that the kind of rulers we aspire to be? Are we really the rulers they look up to?”

Prince Shinsuke pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand you’re upset, but the throne wouldn’t have lasted this long if none of us pulled some strings and kept up deceiving acts. Trust me, I also do not wish to take a part in this, but Her Majesty is right. The people are already growing restless that we have been without a King for years – having Crown Prince Rintaro’s reputation tarnished will not make this better. And as far as I know, there are still many protests against having an illegitimate child on the throne,” he reminded, causing Prince Ushijima to clear his throat awkwardly. Still, Shinsuke pushed on. “Rintaro is the King the Cabinet wants. We must follow the law. Ushijima can only be crowned King until we have ran out of options.”

Your jaw dropped.

“And what of me?”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, the future of the Kingdom is a heavier matter at hand than your broken heart,” Iris quipped, “Besides, if you knew about our relationship prior to the marriage, then you cannot blame anyone but yourself. You’re in this predicament because you were too cowardly to let go when given the chance.”

“That’s enough!” Tobio yelled. “You all need to stop talking about her like that. You’re all right – the Crown is more important. We need a stable ruler and for the people to not lose their trust in us. But the Princess is still a human. She was lied to, manipulated, and constantly looked down on. The least you can do right now is let her acknowledge her pain, seeing as it is clearly too much for each and every one of you to be decent human beings!”

Her Majesty paid him no mind. Waving her hand in the air dismissively, she sighed. “He is young. He will understand someday.”

At her nonchalance, Tobio’s nostrils flared. It was the last you saw of him before he kicked his chair back, storming out of the hall before everyone erupted into protests. Keiji slunk back into his seat, Shinsuke was immediately making efforts to appease the Queen by apologizing on everyone’s behalf, and Maiko was crying. And you? You glowered at the Queen before following after Tobio, the three other Princes right at your heels.

The doors slammed shut behind you.

You could hear the Princes running after you. Two pairs were rushing, but one pair of footfalls sounded more like stomping. Before you could turn down the hall where Tobio went, you were dragged by, Suna firmly gripping your elbow as he halted you in your tracks.

“Her Majesty was speaking,” he hissed, fingers digging harder to your skin. “Don’t be rude.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rintaro. I can’t believe you right now. Letting me be friends with your mistress? Really? And you didn’t even tell me there was a meeting this morning!”

His free hand ran through his hair. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would act like this. You would’ve embarrassed me in front of the advisors. Besides, you left before I could–”

“I embarrass you? Do you even hear yourself? You’re the embarrassing one for going behind my back and sleeping with your mistress–”

“She’s not my mistress!”

“Isn’t she? I wasn’t aware there was another word to describe a woman frolicking with a married man!”

His grip grew tighter as he spoke, and you squeaked out in pain. You tried to pry his fingers off of you, but Suna wasn’t having any of it. “You’re one to talk, leaving me here in this country to go around dancing with my brother–” Your husband’s face disappeared before you. In the blink of an eye, he was shoved nearly across the room and falling right at his ass.

Kiyoomi stood protectively over you, his chest rising and falling as he shook with anger.

“Stay away from my wife!”

Meanwhile, Tooru dodged between Suna and Kiyoomi, the former rising on his feet and reeling his arm back in a punch. Tooru effortlessly caught his brother’s arm, but holding him back was a different struggle of itself. “Rin, that’s enough!”

“Are you okay?”

You blinked back from the scene. Kiyoomi was now holding your arm where Suna grabbed you, checking for any injuries. Aside from a little aching, and a possible bruise that would show up tomorrow, you were unharmed. Still, the Prince wasn’t assured. His thick brows pinched together in concern, turning your arm over and over as he muttered to himself the violent things he wished to do to his brother. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not really, but I want to go after Tobio.”

Kiyoomi nodded in understanding. “Go. I’ll handle this.”

You shared a knowing look with him. I’m on your side, his eyes said, and that was enough to reassure you. Giving him a nod, you quickly turned on your heels and ran. You ran and ran until you were out of breath, your corset digging into you uncomfortably. The youngest Prince sure was a fast one – he’d already reached his own study in such a short time.

Peeking through the partially closed door, your heart broke at the sight.

Prince Tobio sat on his painter’s stool, an unfinished portrait of you – smiling in your wedding dress – lay before him. He was crying, sniffling to himself and wiping his tears with the collar of his blouse. Even the sounds of his cries were too painful to hear.

Shutting the door behind you, you took your place behind him, gently squeezing his shoulders to make him look up. When he did, his bloodshot eyes greeted you.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all of that,” you tell him softly, “I didn’t mean to ruin breakfast for you.”

Tobio shook his head. He pulled out a handkerchief before blowing on it, and you smiled despite yourself – he’d grown so much, yet he was still that sweet, naïve boy in your eyes. It felt like a lifetime ago when he had his debut, and now he was flourishing into such a great, young man. Your little brother, the sweetest Prince – you would do anything for him.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, sis. You’re the victim here.”

You laughed a little. Victim sounded too poor of a word choice. Turning to the canvas before you, you gestured to it. “What are you painting?”

“You,” he admitted with red cheeks, “I started on this when Rintaro announced he’d be marrying you so I could give it as a wedding gift. But Her Majesty wanted me to focus on my studies, so I didn’t have enough time to finish. I mean, it’s not even the same dress you wore on your wedding so it’s inaccurate–”

“-It looks beautiful.”

“It’s still unfinished,” his shoulders slumped in your flattery before he lightened up, already moving to pick up the brushes as he wiped his snot with his hanky. “Since you’re here, would you like me to paint you as you are now? I’ll get a new canvas.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to lose all your efforts on your previous painting.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured, and per his instruction, you sat stiffly to ‘pose’ for him. It’s a little awkward, and Tobio struggled to sketch you each time you fidgeted, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. Midway through his sketch, though, he placed his pencil down, his eyes brimming with tears again. “I still can’t believe Rintaro was capable of being so cruel. I’ll never forgive him for what he did,” he said, his lower lip quivering. “Are they really like this? Is everyone in the Palace truly so heartless? Will I… never find love of my own, too?”

“Oh, Tobio,” you reached your arms out, crushing him to your chest. The Prince’s tears dampened your dress, though you paid it no mind. He was too young for all this hurt – this war over the crown. He was too good for a cruel place like this. “It will get easier someday.”

Fisting your skirt, he buried his face to your neck, his whole body shivering under you. “I never wanted to be a Prince. I-I wanted to keep playing sports and go pro someday. There’s a whole world out there for me to see, and I’m so afraid I’ll never become the person I want to be. I’m afraid I might turn out like my brothers.”

You pulled back to make him look at you. Cupping his face with your hands, you shook your head firmly. “That’s not true, Tobio. You’re already a thousand times better than your brothers. Look, you’re sweet, kind, and passionate. Who says you don’t deserve to achieve your dreams? You can be who you want to be. You can see the world. I promise you that I’ll support you in anything you want to do. Anything.”

“Really?” grinning, he wiped his cheeks free from his tears. “Then… will you come to my game? There’s a match and the Coach just added me to the team. It… Well, it might be a good opportunity for you and everyone else to show you’re unaffected by the scandal, too.”

“Oh, forget the scandal. I only want to see you play,” you tell him, and the Prince’s innocent smile is so big and bright it soothed all the aches in your heart. You promised to yourself, then and there, that you would do what it takes to protect that smile. “Now, should we get to this painting?”

That talk with Tobio filled you with unwavering resolve.

The poor boy didn’t deserve to spend a minute longer in the Palace. It simply wasn’t a place for him. He needed to be out there, living his life to the fullest, and to be surrounded by good people who were healthy for him. Not his greedy, cheating brothers, and most especially not with the heartless Queen as his only mother figure.

You had to do something for him. You had to weaken the throne even further, exploit their weakness and make the monarchy crumble. If not for you, then you would do it for Tobio.

It was the reason you’d gained enough courage to dial the number weighing heavily in your pockets long before Itachiyama. That piece of paper Kiyoomi slipped into your coat just before you parted ways. You should’ve known it back then – Kiyoomi was somehow always one step ahead of you. It’s like he knew what you wanted to happen before you said out loud. What you needed before you told him what it was. And you’d done it – scheduled the meeting, hired a private chauffer, and rented out a restaurant in the middle of nowhere at the dead time of the night before you could change your mind.

Do it For Tobio. For Kiyoomi. For you.

He arrived not a minute later than the designated time. He stood tall and confident – seemingly unbothered by the mass of hate he’d accumulated. Sauntering in through the doors with a smirk, he let out a low whistle, impressed with the lack of people. You had promised him privacy, after all, and if you wanted to succeed in your plans, you couldn’t be shy in splurging a little bit of money.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, was it?”

“Your Highness,” he greeted with a bow, his smile growing wider as he pulled out his chair. He’s handsome, with a smile you wouldn’t deem trustworthy, and he held an aura to him that warned you to tread carefully. He was, after all, the man who singlehandedly exposed your husband’s affair. “I am flattered by your efforts, though I must admit. I did not expect you would reach out to me of all people. I assumed you wanted my head.”

You offer him a polite smile. “You have it all wrong. In fact, I’m thankful for the opportunity you’ve presented to me,” leaning forward, you slid a thin envelope his way. Inside it contained a document of your own words, one you trusted Kuroo would twist to sound more convincing. “I want you to publish another article.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened. He waited for a beat, a moment or two, for you to say you didn’t mean it. You could’ve been joking. But you hold his gaze, your smile just as firm, refusing to waver from his intense gaze. “With all due respect, Ma’am, I think I’m already in enough trouble for that last one.”

Fair enough. You didn’t think he’d be that easy to convince.

Reaching beside you, you pulled out a case and clicked open the locks for him. If Kuroo was surprised before, he was most definitely flabbergasted by now. Wads of cash piled against each other stared back at him – temping him to reach out and take it. Smiling to yourself, you gently nudged the case in his direction.

“This is half of what I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you twice as much once you’ve done your part,” you promised, “You don’t need to fear, Mr. Kuroo. I’ll guarantee your protection if you do this for me.”

Kuroo chuckled to himself. Shutting the case back shut, he was quick to slide it to his side – deal done and closed. “If a lovely Princess is asking so nicely, I can’t possibly turn it down, can I?” pulling out a small notebook from his coat, Kuroo uncaps his pen with a twist of his teeth. “So let’s get into it. What story do you want, Ma’am? Do you want the truth or… something more scandalous than your husband’s affair?”

“I want you to ruin Iris,” you declared, “Inside that envelope is a list of people the Princess frequently interacts with, as well as records from her history dating back from when she moved here with mother. I want you to look into everything and pick apart whatever could destroy her reputation. There are secrets that she keeps, and I want them out in the public.”

Kuroo doesn’t bother writing that down. “Her reputation is well ruined already, Ma’am. I doubt much could make it worse.”

Your brow shoots up. “Are you doubting my abilities or questioning my demands?”

“Neither,” he reassured with a mischievous grin, “I shall write something about her, then, but what about the Crown Prince? Do I still have the assurance of your protection if he comes after me for messing with his precious little thing?”

Oh, please. His ‘precious little thing’ doesn’t even want him.

Spinning your wedding finger with your thumb, you stared at it. “Tell me, Kuroo. You’re a journalist, one that wasn’t invited at that private party my husband was in. So why were you there that night? Most importantly, how did you get their photos?” you brought your gaze back up to him, “You’re not secretly planning for the downfall of the crown, are you?”

Kuroo scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness. But to answer your question, then no, I wasn’t invited. I wouldn’t even know a single thing about their affair if it wasn’t for one of you.”

“One of us?” you echoed, “Are you saying someone in the royal family hired you as well?”

“Indeed. Though I must say, I never expected working with just one of you could have me set for life. What more if I teamed up with you too?”

So your theories were right. That article didn’t appear out of nowhere – someone wanted it to happen. “It was Iris, wasn’t it? She asked you to publish that because she knew I was with her husband… but that wouldn’t make any sense. That article puts her in a bad light. It couldn’t be her, right?”

“You’ll be surprised, Ma’am, but it was not the Princess,” he clarified.

Kuroo’s face pinched in contemplation, and then suddenly, pulls out a different phone from his pockets. It’s a beat-up iPhone with its battery nearly dead, but with a few clicks here and there, the video played loud and clear. The camera is shaky, the angles all wrong. Whoever recorded it clearly seemed to be inebriated. Yet there it was – the unmistakable masculine voice groaning, the slapping of skin against each other, and a high-pitched womanly moan. The camera caught nothing but long, blond hair flowing on top of her bouncing breasts before the camera was flipped, finally showing the culprit –

“Atsumu?”

Atsumu gripped Yuki’s hips, shoving the phone between their bodies to show the pistoning of his cock in and out of her. There was no point denying it now. Both their faces were clear from the video, and if this got out…

Kuroo paused the video. “I’m not supposed to be showing you this, but the Prince hasn’t kept up to his end of the bargain, so I might as well ask for your help, too,” shutting the phone off, Kuroo rested his chin on his hands. “That night, he slept with an intoxicated actress and accidentally filmed themselves in the act. The Prince was drunk himself, made the mistake of posting that video online, and merely eighteen minutes later, any traces of their sex tape disappeared. Curious?”

The pieces of the puzzle finally fit.

“He called you to write about Iris and Rintaro to cover up his scandal.”

He snapped his fingers. “Bingo! And he succeeded, even if it was an impulsive decision on his side. Still, the Prince paid me handsomely because he was desperate, but he hasn’t offered me protection like he promised. I’m being hunted down by the Queen’s goons as we speak. Isn’t that why you offered to have me chauffeured here?”

You knew Kuroo prioritized his safety over money due to his current predicament. It was the reason why you risked sneaking out of the Palace and meeting him alone. His terms were clear – no witnesses, no guards, just you and him. You would keep to your word if it meant cornering Iris, but with Atsumu and that poor actress thrown into the mix… things just got more complicated.

Reaching out for Kuroo, you squeezed his hand. “You will be safe with me. I promise you this.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

You glanced at the iPhone between you two. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kuroo, but now that you know he’d do pretty much anything for money, you couldn’t risk it. It wasn’t just Atsumu’s reputation you were worried about – firstly, Rintaro would kill him if he found out it was all his doing. Second, that poor actress. She rose to fame in her career recently; this would ruin her image. If things took the wrong turn, who was to stop the Queen from forcing the two to get married if that tape was leaked? You couldn’t risk any cracks in your plan.

“Kuroo, may I have that phone?”

“It’s all yours if you throw in another five grand, Princess.”

“Consider it mine then.”

You and Kuroo left immediately after everything was settled. Just as promised, you would cover all his travel expenses. He would stay overseas to ensure his protection while he reached out to his connections to get all the information he needed, and once the article was ready, he’d publish it and disappear from the media. You covered that too – he was paid enough to live comfortably while in hiding. Now, you only needed to wait for everything to go according to plan.

First, the downfall of Iris. Next, her separation with Kiyoomi without having to let Rin ascend to the throne. And once she’s finally out of the picture, you’ll move on to your beloved husband. You’ll seduce him, have him fall completely to your whim, make him realize he could never have anyone like you again – and once he’s wrapped around your finger, you’ll plea for divorce.

A heart for a heart. A marriage for a marriage.

And if the odds play into your favor at the end of it all, there’s only one destination in mind: Kiyoomi’s farmhouse in Itachiyama.

You smiled to yourself – it would work out. You had a good feeling about it. Kiyoomi is supporting you and acting as your spy, Kita is backing you up on the grounds for divorce, and the nation has unwaveringly showed their support for you in these trying times. After all, you were just the poor, neglected wife. They expected you to spend your days crying and chasing after your deceitful husband, or to simply take it all – be silent and smile for the cameras.

Fuck what the Queen said. You won’t let her win.

Driving back to the Palace, you glanced at the time. It’s almost four in the morning, and soon, Her Majesty would be beginning her routine and expecting her daily calls from the Princes. Pressing harder on the gas, you sped up until a glint catches your eye. You glance at the rearview mirror, eyes widening at the fast approaching car from behind – a sleek, black car with the royal family’s crest on it. Shit. But – it couldn’t be the royal guards. You’d made sure no one would see you, and Airi had gotten your note to slip some sleeping pills into Rintaro’s tea so you could sneak out. Kiyoomi was informed of your plans, too, and he’d reassured he’d hold the fort down while you dealt with Kuroo.

Unless Iris had snooped through his phone and found everything out, then –

You wasted no time. You drove faster, reaching for the gun in your glove compartment as the roaring of the car behind you moved in closer and closer. Heart pounding in your chest, you speed-dialed Kiyoomi, praying to any God who was listening that he would pick up. It couldn’t be Iris, it shouldn’t be her. God forbid she does anything to provoke you into pulling the trigger.

Infidelity was one thing, but the murder of a royal family member was not something one could merely frown at. You didn’t want to be thrown into jail.

The call did not push through.

“Fuck!” you slammed your feet on the gas, watching as the car sped up even more until it was now next to you. You were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but the mammoth of trees and a never ending road with darkness clouding the path. Just then, the windows rolled down, and you waited with bated breath as the face finally came into view.

Dark hair was the first thing you saw. The windows rolled down, down, down, until you were staring deep into your husband’s eyes. Brow cocked, he smirked, raising the phone to show he’d been calling you – that’s why you couldn’t call Kiyoomi. Suna was interrupting the line. Shit, how was he even awake right now?

Moreover, how did he find you?

You scowled to yourself. There was no outrunning him now. Suna was a ridiculously good driver, and there was no way you would ever use a gun on him. Steeling yourself, you forced yourself to regulate your breathing – your efforts boon when Suna suddenly pressed on forward until he was a feet away from you, maneuvered his car with the hood facing your direction, and then just – stopped.

Bracing your hands on the wheel, you forced all your energy to release its power on the slamming of your brakes. The skidding of your car squeaked for what seemed like minutes until finally – finally – your came to a halt. You were breathing hard, the back of your head aching from the impact of it crashing to the headrest. Meanwhile, Suna opened his car doors in slow, languid movements, the ends of his leather black trench coat hitting the pavement. With nothing but the headlights of his car illuminating him, he looked more like an omen of death than a Prince – dressed in a white turtleneck, black pants, and a long coat that highlighted his tall figure. He looked ominous, like he carried sorrow and pain with him – pain that he was about to make you feel.

Because you knew – of course you knew; you knew him better than anyone – that the placid smile he wore was anything but.

He slammed the car doors shut. Leaning against the hood, Suna’s gloved hands reached for a lighter in his pocket as he lit his cigarette, the stick hanging from between his lips. As soon as it flickered, he pocketed the lighter back, using two of his fingers to make a ‘come hither’ gesture at you.

Clearly, you spoke too early. The odds were not in your favor.

You exited your vehicle, hands gripping the edges of the door as you gathered to courage to take one more step towards him. It wasn’t that you were afraid – he wouldn’t hurt you, not really. But too much could be taken away from you in such little time – Kuroo couldn’t have gone far, and Atsumu’s sex tape was still in the backseat. You didn’t trust Rintaro to not ruin your plans. And you wouldn’t let him, not now when you were so close to victory.

One step, two steps, three steps – your heels clicked against the road as you walked, making sure to keep your chin pointed north. Hips swaying to the side, you finally ended up before him – right between his spread legs – your husband leaning back at the hood of his car whilst he sized you up, his free hand resting behind him.

“Funny seeing you here,” he drawled out, his voice thick with barely-held back rage. “They told me you were sleeping, but last time I checked, driving while falling asleep was illegal.”

“Cheating is also illegal.”

“Your comebacks are getting old, my love.”

Your head snapped to his direction. He hadn’t called you that in forever, not since you’d returned from your honeymoon. To have him call you that now, with such a deeply rich, smooth voice and sounding like he’d just woken up, all breathy and rasp – could it be possible to fuck someone to death?

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” tipping his head to the side, Suna’s lips slowly formed into a smirk. He took a drag of his cigarette, keeping his eyes on yours as he wrapped those lips around the stick – delicately and tantalizingly slow – just like how he did when he worshipped you in bed. You breathed out hard and attempted to take a step back, but he was having none of it. Swiftly, he’d tugged on your shirt to pull you close to him, causing you to stumble and fall into his lap. Above you, your husband’s chest rumbled with amusement.

“Look at you. Always so weak for me.”

He leaned in close, his scent of smoke and expensive woodsy perfume enveloping you. It’s addicting, just as he is, and your knees grew weak. Your legs slid down just as Suna wraps a strong arm around your waist to hitch you back in place, your core resting above his thigh. There, he spreads you open with just his knees, his warm lips suddenly attaching themselves to your neck. You gasped out, hands falling to his shoulders in a measly attempt to pull him away – and oh.

Suna had different plans in mind.

“You,” he breathed in your ear, his gloved fingers popping the button of your blouse one by one. “cannot get rid of me that easily, Your Highness. You can slip in as many drugs you want in my drinks, you can kill me a hundred times and fuck me over again and again, but don’t you dare forget,” growling lowly in your ear, your husband took your chin in his hands and forced you to gaze deep into his eyes – pools of hazel swirling with need and wrath – “Not even death can do us part. I’ll keep on looking for you even if you try to hide at the ends of the earth.”