#and we all just. brushed him off. me included

[cherryxbooo]

You’re my heart, my home

Summary: When a girl joins Mason’s friend group and begins vying for his attention, his girlfriend feels sidelined in their relationship. After a painful fallout, Mason realizes his mistakes and tries to fight for his relationship.

Reader x Mason Mount

Genre: fluff/angst

Being with Mason for the last two years has been nothing short of a dream.

Sure, we had our ups and downs, but we always found our way back to each other.

He’s the clingy, romantic type, always finding a way to hold my hand, cuddle me, or just sit close.

I loved that about him, even when his friends teased him for being so attached.

Their jokes didn’t bother him, though. He’d just laugh it off and kiss me on the forehead, completely unapologetic.

Tonight, we were out at a party with his group of friends.

Everyone was in high spirits, including me.

It was one of those rare nights where I wasn’t buried in work, and Mason wasn’t tied up with training.

The atmosphere was lively, and I was having a blast mingling with the other girls while Mason hung out with the guys.

But then, I noticed her.

A girl I didn’t recognize was lingering around Mason’s group. She wasn’t one of the girlfriends, that much was obvious.

She was beautiful, sure, but there was something about the way she hovered near Mason that made my stomach twist.

I leaned over to Sarah, one of the girlfriends I’d become close with, and whispered, “Hey, do you know who that girl is?”

Sarah frowned, glancing in the direction I was looking.

“No clue. But if I were you, I’d keep an eye on her. Something about her screams trouble.”

I nodded, silently agreeing. The rest of the evening, I couldn’t help but notice how she kept talking to Mason or pulling him along somewhere.

He didn’t seem to mind, he was always polite to a fault, but it didn’t sit right with me.

Hours passed, and I hadn’t seen much of Mason. It was unusual; normally, he’d stick to me like glue at these kinds of events.

Finally, I saw him weaving through the crowd toward me, his familiar grin lighting up his face.

“There you are,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

“I’ve missed you.”

I smiled, leaning into his embrace.

“I thought you forgot about me.”

“Never,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

We stood there for a moment, just enjoying each other’s presence, before the girl appeared again.

She didn’t even acknowledge me at first, her focus entirely on Mason.

“Oh, Mason! There you are,” she said, her tone dripping with sweetness that made my skin crawl.

Mason, ever polite, introduced us. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

Her eyes flickered with something, was it disdain? Jealousy? Before she forced a smile.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I replied, though I didn’t mean it.

She didn’t waste time pulling Mason away again, leaving me standing there alone.

I tried to brush it off, but the knot in my stomach tightened.

Later that night,

The sound of laughter and the soft hum of music filled the air as the party began to wind down.

I had spent most of the night with the girlfriends of Mason’s friends, chatting and laughing about everything under the sun.

But as the hours ticked by, my mood shifted.

Mason had been absent for most of the evening, floating between his group of friends and, more noticeably, that girl.

I’d caught glimpses of her tugging on his arm, whispering something to him with a sly smile, and each time, my stomach twisted a little tighter.

By the time Mason finally found me, I was nursing the last sips of a drink I barely tasted.

His smile, that usual bright and boyish grin that I loved so much, faltered the moment he saw my expression.

“Hey, love,” he said softly, his hands sliding around my waist.

“You’ve been hiding from me all night.”

I scoffed, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

“Funny, I thought it was the other way around.”

His brow furrowed, confusion etched into his features. “What do you mean?”

I shook my head, not wanting to cause a scene here. “Let’s just go home.”

The car ride was silent at first, the only sound the low hum of the engine as the city lights streaked past the windows.

Mason reached over, his hand finding its usual spot on my thigh, but tonight, it didn’t bring the comfort it usually did.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, breaking the silence.

His voice was gentle but tinged with concern.

I hesitated, my fingers twisting the hem of my dress. Finally, I spoke, my voice quieter than I intended.

“That girl… She’s been clinging to you all night. It didn’t sit right with me.”

His eyes darted from the road to me, genuine surprise flashing across his face.

“Wait, what? I didn’t even notice. She was just… talking. That’s all.”

“That’s not all, Mason,” I said, my voice trembling.

“You didn’t see the way she was looking at you, or the way she kept finding excuses to pull you aside. And you didn’t see the way everyone else was noticing it, too.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he pulled into our driveway.

“Y/N, I swear, I didn’t mean to make you feel this way. She doesn’t mean anything to me, love. I’m sorry if I didn’t realize it sooner.”

His apology was earnest, his eyes searching mine as he reached for my hand.

And though the knot in my chest hadn’t completely unraveled, I nodded, letting him lead me inside.

Mason made it his mission to reassure me that night, wrapping me in his arms and whispering soft apologies until I finally let myself relax against him.

The days seemed to blend into one long, monotonous routine.

My office job had me tethered to my desk for hours on end, the fluorescent lights of my workspace burning into my skin.

The deadlines felt endless, the meetings never-ending.

By the time I dragged myself home each evening, exhaustion was my only companion.

Mason, too, was caught in the whirlwind of his demanding football schedule: training, travel, matches, and media obligations filling his calendar.

Our moments together became fleeting. In the mornings, he would kiss my forehead as I groggily clung to the last few minutes of sleep before facing my own hectic day.

At night, we exchanged tired "goodnights" before collapsing into bed, too drained to have a real conversation.

It was like we were ships passing in the night, brushing past each other but never truly docking.

One Friday evening, I found myself with an unfamiliar luxury: a free night.

No emails to check, no looming deadlines, just peace.

The thought of spending the evening with Mason filled me with excitement.

I hadn’t had a moment to truly connect with him in weeks, and I missed him desperately.

I decided to text him: "Hey, how about a cozy night in? Just us. I’ll cook dinner, and we can watch a movie or something. I miss you. ❤️"

The little "delivered" icon appeared, and I waited.

My mind wandered to the memories of our lazy nights together, how we’d cuddle under a blanket on the couch, my head on his chest while his fingers absentmindedly played with my hair.

I smiled at the thought, hoping tonight could be like that.

When Mason finally walked through the door, I felt a flicker of hope.

His smile was warm and familiar, and he pulled me into his arms without hesitation.

“Hey, love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple.

His cologne was comforting, wrapping around me like a favorite blanket.

I leaned into him, letting the weight of my day melt away.

“Hi,” I said softly, savoring the moment before pulling back.

“I was thinking we could have a night in tonight. Just us.”

My voice was light, but the anticipation was evident. “I miss spending time with you.”

For a moment, Mason’s smile faltered.

His hands stilled on my waist as his expression shifted, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

“I would love that,” he began, his tone apologetic,

“but… I already told the guys I’d meet them tonight.”

The spark of excitement in my chest dimmed, replaced by a sinking feeling.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, trying to keep my voice steady.

“And her?” I asked, not needing to say the name aloud.

Mason hesitated, guilt flashing across his face.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly, “she’ll probably be there.”

I nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

“Okay, have fun.”

His brow furrowed slightly as he studied me, but I stepped back before he could say more.

Mason leaned in to kiss my forehead, a gesture that once made me feel safe but now felt hollow.

“Love you,” he said softly before heading upstairs to change.

“Love you, too,” I replied automatically, though my voice lacked conviction.

As soon as he disappeared upstairs, the smile I had been holding crumbled.

I sank onto the couch, staring blankly at the flickering light of the television I hadn’t even realized I turned on.

My chest felt heavy, like a weight I couldn’t lift no matter how hard I tried.

Why couldn’t I shake this feeling? Was I overreacting? Was I being unreasonable?

But deep down, I knew the answer. This wasn’t just about tonight.

It was about the growing distance between us, about the way our once unshakable connection now felt like it was fraying at the edges.

And it was about her, the girl who seemed to have inserted herself into our lives, lingering like an unwelcome guest.

I replayed every interaction I had seen between Mason and her.

The way she laughed too hard at his jokes, the way her hand always seemed to find its way to his arm.

And worst of all, the way Mason didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t seem to mind.

When Mason came back downstairs, his smile was easy, oblivious to the storm raging in my chest.

“Don’t wait up, yeah?” he said, grabbing his keys.

I nodded, my voice failing me, and watched as he walked out the door.

The sound of it closing behind him echoed in the quiet of our home, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Over the following weeks, the pattern repeated like a cruel cycle I couldn’t escape.

Every time we had a rare opportunity to spend time together, Mason had other plans.

He would promise me he’d be home early or that we’d plan something soon, but it never happened.

And she was always there.

I tried to push my feelings aside, telling myself that Mason loved me and that I was being irrational.

But each time her name came up in conversation or I saw another picture of them together with his friends, the knot in my stomach tightened.

It all came to a head one evening when I found myself sitting alone at the dinner table.

I had made Mason’s favorite meal, hoping for once we could share an evening like we used to.

I even lit candles, trying to recreate the warmth that felt so distant now.

But as the hours ticked by and my phone buzzed with a text:

“Sorry, love. Running late. Don’t wait up.”

I realized I was fooling myself.

When Mason finally came home that night, he found me curled up on the couch, pretending to be asleep.

I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t bear the guilt in his eyes or the empty promises of “I’ll make it up to you.”

The next morning it was the same again, he kissed my forehead and whispered a soft “I love you” before leaving for training.

I whispered it back, but the words felt hollow in my mouth.

The weeks that followed were marked by a growing distance between us.

Mason seemed unaware of the storm brewing inside me, while I became an expert at pretending everything was fine.

But the truth was, I felt like I was losing him, and losing myself in the process.

Every time her name came up, it was like a knife twisting in my chest.

And every time Mason chose to spend time with his friends, and her instead of me, it felt like another crack in the foundation of our relationship.

I wanted to tell him how I felt, to lay everything out and make him understand.

But every time I tried, the words caught in my throat.

What if he didn’t see it the way I did? What if I was the only one who felt this way?

Late at night, as I lay in bed next to him, I would stare at the ceiling, wondering when things had started to change.

And if they could ever go back to the way they were.

It was Sunday, the day I had been looking forward to all week.

My only day off, my sanctuary from the endless grind of work and responsibilities.

I had envisioned a lazy morning spent tangled in the sheets with Mason, the sunlight filtering through the curtains as we sipped coffee in bed.

I wanted a day to pause and just be with him, to feel like we were still us amidst the chaos of our separate lives.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as I poured myself a mug.

I smiled to myself, thinking about how I’d surprise Mason with breakfast in bed.

He deserved a break too, after all.

When Mason wandered into the kitchen, his hair still ruffled from sleep, I felt a flicker of hope.

Maybe today would finally be the day we reconnected.

“Morning, love,” he said, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

“Morning,” I replied, warmth spreading through me at the small gesture.

But the moment was fleeting.

As he reached for a glass of water, his next words hit me like a gut punch.

“I’m heading out with the guys later. And yes before you ask, she’s coming too,”

he said casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

I froze, my coffee mug halfway to my lips. For a moment, I thought I must have misheard him.

“What?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

He glanced at me, confused by my reaction.

“I promised the lads I’d meet them for lunch. You know, a group thing.”

“And her?” I pressed, though I already knew the answer.

His hesitation spoke volumes. “Yeah, she’s part of the group now too,”

he admitted, shrugging as if it were no big deal.

The fragile peace I had been clinging to all week shattered.

My chest tightened, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thin.

“Are you serious, Mason?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“You know this is my only day off, and you’re choosing to spend it with her?”

His shoulders sagged, and he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Y/N, not this again.”

The words were a slap to the face. “Yes, this again!”

I snapped, slamming my mug onto the counter so hard I was surprised it didn’t crack.

“Do you even realize how this looks? How it feels to constantly come second to her?”

“Y/N, I don’t want to do this right now,” he said, his tone clipped, frustration evident in every word.

“Well, I do!” I shot back, my voice rising.

Mason ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I knew meant he was trying to keep his temper in check.

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion,” he said, his tone colder now.

I stared at him in disbelief. “Out of proportion? Mason, I have been patient."

"I have been understanding. But this… this is too much. You spend more time with her than you do with me!”

“That’s not true,” he said defensively, his voice rising to match mine.

“Yes, it is! And the worst part is, you don’t even see it. Or you don’t care.”

“I care, Y/N. Of course I care,” he said, his voice softening just enough to make me falter.

But then he shook his head, his frustration bubbling back to the surface.

“But I can’t have this argument every time I go out with my friends. It’s exhausting.”

The words stung, slicing through the fragile thread of hope I had been holding onto.

My heart clenched, tears welling up in my eyes.

“If it’s so exhausting, then why are you still here?” I asked, my voice breaking.

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air.

Mason stared at me, his expression unreadable, before he grabbed his keys off the counter.

“I’m not doing this right now,” he said flatly.

And just like that, he walked out the door, leaving me standing in the kitchen with tears streaming down my face.

The sound of his car starting and pulling away echoed in my ears, each second driving the pain deeper into my chest.

I sank into a chair at the kitchen table, my head in my hands.

The tears came fast and hard, shaking my body as I sobbed into my palms.

All the frustration, the hurt, and the anger I had been holding back for weeks spilled out in that moment.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

The constant tug-of-war for his attention, the way he dismissed my feelings like they were insignificant, it was too much.

I needed space. I needed to breathe.

With trembling hands, I grabbed my phone and called my best friend.

The line barely rang before she picked up, her cheerful voice a sharp contrast to my broken one.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” she asked immediately, her tone shifting to concern.

I tried to speak, but my words came out in choked sobs.

“He… he left. He walked out,” I managed to say between gasps for air.

“Okay, breathe,” she said firmly, her voice steady and reassuring.

“Start from the beginning. What happened?”

As I recounted the argument, her silence on the other end of the line felt like a lifeline, her presence grounding me even through the phone.

When I finished, she let out a long sigh.

“Pack a bag and come over,” she said without hesitation.

“You don’t need to be alone right now.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me, and wiped my tears with the sleeve of my sweater.

“Okay,” I whispered.

I packed an overnight bag with shaking hands, throwing in random items of clothing and my toothbrush.

As I zipped it up, I glanced around the bedroom Mason and I shared, the weight of the memories threatening to pull me under.

The bed where we used to stay up talking for hours now felt like a stranger’s, the space between us too vast to cross.

My best friend greeted me at the door with open arms, pulling me into a tight hug.

I broke down again, the dam I had been trying so hard to hold together finally bursting.

She didn’t say anything at first, just held me as I cried into her shoulder.

When I finally pulled back, she led me to the couch and handed me a mug of tea.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” she said gently. “But I’m here.”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

As I sat there, sipping the tea and feeling the warmth seep into my hands, I realized how much I needed this.

Someone who understood, who wouldn’t dismiss my feelings or tell me I was overreacting.

Over the next hour, I poured my heart out to her.

I told her about the weeks of feeling like I was being pushed aside, about the constant presence of her in our lives, and about the crushing loneliness that had taken root in my chest.

“Y/N, you deserve better than this,” she said firmly when I finished.

“He loves you, I’m sure of that, but he’s not treating you the way you deserve to be treated. He needs to wake up and realize what he’s risking.”

Her words hit me hard, but they also gave me a flicker of strength. Maybe she was right.

Maybe Mason needed to see what it felt like to lose me, to truly lose me, to understand how much he was hurting me.

For the first time in weeks, I felt a sense of clarity, even if it was wrapped in pain.

I wasn’t sure what would happen next, but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay.

Something had to change.

Meanwhile at the party,

The party buzzed with energy, laughter and chatter echoing through the air as people mingled in small groups.

Normally, Mason would have been at ease here, relaxed and in his element, but tonight, everything felt off.

His friends noticed it too. Ben nudged him with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

“You alright, mate? You’ve been staring at your drink like it owes you money.”

Mason forced a chuckle, but it was hollow. “Yeah, just tired, I guess.”

Ben raised an eyebrow but didn’t push.

“Well, if you need a break from all this, let me know. I’ve got your back.”

Mason nodded, appreciating the sentiment, but his mind wasn’t on the party or even on his friends.

The argument replayed in his head like a broken record, your words cutting deeper each time he thought of them.

“Do you even realize how this looks? How it feels to constantly come second to her?”

The memory twisted in his chest, a sharp pang of regret piercing through him.

He had brushed off your concerns so many times, dismissing them as overreactions.

Now, standing in the middle of the room surrounded by people, he felt the weight of those choices crushing down on him.

And then there she was. The girl.

She approached him with her usual confident stride, her smile wide and her eyes locked on his.

Mason tensed instinctively.

He had hoped to avoid her tonight, to stick with his friends and steer clear of any more trouble, but she seemed to have other plans.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,”

she said, her voice light and teasing as she leaned in closer than necessary.

“Yeah, just tired,” he said curtly, taking a deliberate step back.

She didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she didn’t care.

Instead, she placed a hand on his arm, her touch lingering just a second too long.

“Come on, Mason. Loosen up a bit. You’re the life of the party, remember?”

Mason forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m good, thanks.”

But she wasn’t deterred.

Throughout the night, she kept finding excuses to be near him, brushing past him to grab a drink, laughing a little too loudly at his jokes, and slipping into conversations uninvited.

His friends started giving him knowing looks, some playful, others more pointed, as if they could sense the awkward tension building around him.

Finally, she cornered him near the back patio, away from the crowd.

Her voice was soft, almost coaxing.

“Mason, I think you know how I feel about you.”

His stomach churned.

He stepped back, creating distance between them.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, though he already knew.

She smiled, tilting her head as if to feign innocence.

“Come on, Mason. We have chemistry. You can’t deny that.”

“I have a girlfriend and you know that,” he said firmly, his voice sharp.

“She doesn’t have to know,” she said, her tone light but laced with something darker.

Mason’s jaw tightened, anger surging through him.

He couldn’t believe the audacity of her words, the way she dismissed me so casually, as if I were some obstacle to be brushed aside.

“Are you serious right now?” he snapped, his voice rising.

“You’ve known about Y/N this entire time, and you think this is okay? Do you have any idea how wrong this is?”

Her smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of annoyance.

“Mason, you’re overreacting—”

“Overreacting?” he cut her off, his tone ice-cold.

“No. I’m done. Stay away from me, and stay away from her.”

Without waiting for a response, Mason turned and stormed back into the house.

His heart was pounding, adrenaline coursing through him as he grabbed his jacket and left the party without a word to anyone.

The drive home was silent, save for the low hum of the engine.

Mason gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white.

The encounter played on a loop in his mind, each word she had said making his skin crawl.

But more than that, your voice echoed in his head, soft and broken from the argument.

He had been so blind, so wrapped up in trying to keep the peace and avoid confrontation, that he hadn’t seen the damage he was doing.

Every time he dismissed your concerns, every time he prioritized someone else over you, he had chipped away at the foundation of your relationship.

By the time he pulled into the driveway, his chest ached with guilt.

The house was dark and quiet when he stepped inside, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the party.

The emptiness felt suffocating, a reminder of the space between the two of you that he had allowed to grow.

He pulled out his phone and dialed your number, his hands trembling slightly as he waited for the call to connect.

It rang and rang, each passing second a punch to the gut, until it went to voicemail.

“Babe, it’s me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I need to talk to you. Please, just call me back. I’m so sorry.”

When there was no response, he tried again. And again.

Desperation clawed at him with every unanswered call.

Finally, he scrolled to another contact and pressed call.

Your Best Friend.

Your best friend’s voice was sharp and cold when she answered.

“What do you want, Mason?”

“I need to talk to Y/N, I know she's with you.”

he said, his voice pleading.

“Please, I need to apologize. I messed up.”

“She needs space, Mason,” she said firmly.

“You’ve done enough damage already. Leave her alone.”

“But I love her,” he said, his voice breaking. “I can’t lose her.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, he thought she might relent.

But then she sighed, her tone softening only slightly.

“If you really love her, then give her time. She needs to heal, Mason.

The line went dead, and Mason was left standing alone in the dark living room, his phone dangling limply in his hand.

He sank onto the couch, his head in his hands, as the weight of everything he had done, and everything he had lost, crashed over him like a tidal wave.

For the first time in a long while, Mason Mount felt completely and utterly helpless.

The days without Mason dragged on endlessly, each hour feeling heavier than the last.

I spent most of my time at my best friend’s place, curled up on her couch with a blanket draped over my legs.

The television played softly in the background, but I barely registered the sound.

My mind was stuck in an endless loop of memories, of Mason’s laugh, the warmth of his arms around me, the way he used to look at me as though I were the only person in the world.

But those memories were tainted now, overshadowed by the sting of betrayal.

Every time I thought about how he had prioritized her, a fresh wave of anger and sadness washed over me.

I told myself that I was done, that I deserved better, but the ache in my chest refused to go away.

“You’re overthinking again,” my best friend said, walking into the living room with two mugs of tea.

She set one down in front of me, giving me a pointed look.

I sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around myself.

“How can I not? I feel like I can’t breathe. I want to hate him, but I can’t stop missing him.”

She sat down beside me, her arm draping around my shoulders.

“It’s okay to miss him, Y/N. You loved him. But that doesn’t mean you have to forgive him, at least not until he proves he deserves it.”

Her words were comforting, but they didn’t ease the knot in my stomach.

Nights were the worst.

I’d lie awake staring at the ceiling, every creak of the apartment reminding me of Mason, of the home we’d built together, of the life we’d shared.

While you were struggling to keep yourself afloat, Mason was falling apart.

His usually confident demeanor had crumbled, leaving him a shadow of the man his friends knew.

At training sessions, he was slow to react, his passes off-target, and his energy nonexistent.

“Again!” the coach barked during one drill, his voice sharp with frustration.

Mason barely heard him, his mind somewhere else entirely.

When he finally collapsed onto the sidelines after a particularly grueling run, he dropped his head into his hands, breathing heavily.

“Mason, a word,” the coach called, motioning him over.

Dragging himself to his feet, Mason trudged over, avoiding his teammate's concerned glances.

“What’s going on with you?” the coach asked, his tone softer now.

“You’re not yourself.”

Mason shook his head, unable to meet his coach’s gaze. “It’s… personal.”

The coach sighed, patting him on the shoulder.

“Sort it out, Mount. You’re too good to let this drag you down.”

After practice, Højlund cornered Mason in the locker room, his expression serious.

“Mate, this has to stop. You’re a wreck, and everyone can see it. What’s going on?”

Mason sank onto the bench, rubbing his face with both hands.

“I messed up, Rasmus ,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.

“I hurt Y/N, and now I might’ve lost her for good.”

Rasmus sat down beside him, frowning.

Rasmus has been one of Mason's closest friends on the team and that's how he got to know you.

He quickly grew a friendly connection with you.

“What did you do?”

Mason hesitated before spilling everything, the other girl, the countless times he’d brushed off Y/N’s feelings, the moment he realized just how much damage he’d done.

Rasmus listened intently, his frown deepening.

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ve been trying to call her,”

Mason said, his voice cracking. “She won’t answer. Her best friend won’t even let me near her.”

“And you’re just giving up?” Rasmus asked, his tone challenging.

Mason’s head snapped up.

“Of course not! I love her, Ras. More than anything. But I don’t even know where to start.”

Rasmus patted him on the shoulder.

“You start by showing her. Words won’t mean much right now, Mason. You’ve got to prove it.”

By the end of the week, Mason couldn’t take it anymore.

With a heavy heart and a bag slung over his shoulder, he showed up at your best friend’s doorstep.

He had come every single day, trying to see you, only to be met with the door slammed in his face by your best friend.

Still, he didn’t give up. Each time, he left flowers with heartfelt notes on the doorstep.

He knew it couldn’t undo the hurt he had caused, but to him, it was the least he could do.

The crisp evening air bit at his skin as he shifted nervously from foot to foot, rehearsing what he would say.

When the door finally opened, your best friend stood there, her arms crossed and her expression icy.

“What are you doing here, Mason?”

“I need to see her,” he said, his voice trembling.

“Please. Just five minutes. If she tells me to leave, I will, but I need to talk to her.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Mason thought she was going to slam the door in his face.

But then she sighed, stepping aside.

“She’s in the guest room. Down the hallway left.”

Mason nodded, swallowing hard.

“Thank you.”

As he made his way down the hall, every step felt heavier than the last.

His heart pounded in his chest, and his palms were slick with sweat.

When he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment before knocking softly.

Hearing the knock, I looked up, surprised.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw Mason standing in the doorway, his eyes glassy and filled with regret.

“Mason,” I said quietly, my voice a mix of shock and pain.

“Y/N,” he said, stepping inside hesitantly.

He closed the door behind him, leaning against it as if he needed the support.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice cracking.

“I’ve been an idiot, and I’ve hurt you in ways I can’t even begin to fathom.”

I didn’t respond, wrapping my arms tighter around my knees as I stared at him.

“I let someone take up space in my life that belongs to you,” he continued, his voice trembling.

“I see that now, and I hate myself for not seeing it sooner. I was so caught up in trying to be polite, in trying to avoid conflict, that I didn’t realize I was pushing you away.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I stayed silent, my gaze unwavering.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Mason said, taking a cautious step closer.

“But I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t. You’re my everything. I’ll spend every single day proving that to you if you’ll let me.”

His words cracked something inside me, and a tear slipped down my cheek.

“Mason, you really hurt me,” I said, my voice trembling.

“I felt like I didn’t matter to you anymore.”

“You matter more than anything,” he said urgently, dropping to his knees in front of me.

He took my hands in his, his eyes pleading.

“You’re my heart, my home. I’ll never make you feel like this again. I swear it.”

His desperation was palpable, his sincerity undeniable.

But the pain he’d caused me was still fresh.

“What happens the next time someone tries to come between us?” I asked softly, my voice laced with doubt.

“There won’t be a next time,” he vowed.

“I’ve already cut her out of my life. She’s blocked, deleted, gone. No one will ever come before you again.”

For a long moment, I didn’t respond, letting his words sink in.

Finally, I reached out, cupping his face in my hands.

His breath hitched at the gesture, hope flickering in his eyes.

“You have one chance, Mason,” I said firmly.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady.

When he pulled me into his arms, I felt the weight of his love, his regret, and his determination.

And for the first time in days, I let myself hope.

As we stepped out of the room, Mason still holding my hand like it was his lifeline, my best friend stood in the hallway with her arms crossed.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed but not entirely unsupportive.

“So?” she asked, her eyes darting between us.

“I’m going home,” I said softly, glancing up at Mason.

My best friend tilted her head, giving him a long, pointed look.

“You know, Mason, I’ve been Googling ways to hide a body this past week. Just in case.”

Mason’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “W-well, I’m glad it didn’t come to that.”

“Me too,” she said, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

“But the shovel’s still in the trunk. So, tread carefully.”

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. “Oh my God, stop.”

Mason chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Noted. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

As we walked out of the apartment, she called after us,

“Remember, Y/N, call me if he even looks at you wrong. I’ll be there in five minutes, shovel and all!”

I laughed at her antics but was grateful for her support and comfort.

Mason opened the car door for me, shaking his head with a grin.

“Your best friend is terrifying.”

“And don’t you forget it,” I teased, sliding into the seat.

Once he was in the driver’s seat, he reached over, lacing his fingers through mine.

“You think she’s serious about the shovel?”

I smirked.

“Dead serious.”

He groaned, laughing despite himself.

“Guess I’ll have to make sure she never needs to use it.”

As we drove away, a lightness settled over us that hadn’t been there in weeks.

It wasn’t perfect yet, but for the first time, I felt like we were on the right track, and I knew, deep down, we’d be okay.

The end

[serxinns]

Harsh words from a beloved friend

Forgotten reader au scenario

Btw this was inspired by this post right here, and the concept and AU are NOT mine. They belong to @lovelybrooke . If you want to know more about the AU and support the creator, please do. They need all the love for their hard work!

WARNING! Before you read this fic includes: violence towards the reader, bullying, infantilization towards the reader, xenophobia? (I think idk), yandere behaviors, manipulation, gaslighting, and other topics that I may have forgotten that are probably triggering as well read at your own risk

A/n: whew, it's done finally. I hope you like it, everyone! Please tell me if I did represent infantilization inappropriately or not accurately in the comments. Constructive criticism is allowed. Also, if anyone can tell me what the headboard represents, it means you get your request written next!

You were lying in your bed relieved at last after barely surviving another harsh day at UA ever since the teachers and your classmates found out about you and Shigaraki's relationship for things have been going crazy and downhill, Aizawa would always have a strange expression on his face as if he was ashamed of himself and pitying you, it felt strange and discomforting like he NOW realized his actions which ticked you off a little but you brushed it pretending to be nonchalant about it

Next was your former friend Izuku, ever since he heard the news he and his gang would make constant checks on you which was very unnecessary in your opinion, izuku would purposely get in the middle of you and Neito's conversation, asking about your concerns and try to get you to spill out how you currently feel in his intention to try to be a better friend again by comforting you in his imagination to your luck tho Neito would shoo him off before he could even continue and quickly drag you away which you thanked him for.

But Bakugo and his friends were the worst. If not worse hell. Every time you walk into the class, they start to give you piercing glares as if they intentionally want to make you tense up. Their words have been becoming harsher during training but you tried to ignore them until they started using physical threats under a ruse as "jokes" Honestly you were scared for your safety so you tried to avoid them as much as possible, begging either Neito or Shinso to assist you while dismissing their questions or concerns, not even thinking what could happen if you were to ever run into them alone

Whenever you are, you repeatedly check your surroundings, making sure nobody is following you, making sure the coast is clear enough to make a run for it in your dorms and locking it.

You were beginning to be more skittish and more anxious about your surroundings always getting started by every single touch on the shoulder or when your friends tried to get your attention, whenever they asked about your sudden behavior you quickly pushed it to the side or made excuses

One day you decided to eat lunch with Tamaki since Hitoshi and Neito were busy with training and stuff, the two of you didn't talk much when eating together but you were comfortable with his presence enough to make some small talk here or there then continued eating, as you were enjoying your lunch Tamaki spoke something out the blue "y/n..are you ok?" You stopped eating and looked up at him "Of course I am why wouldn't I be" Tamaki hesitated a bit but he continued "Y-you're acting all skittish all of a sudden whenever we talk you feel like someone or something is watching you please I'm your friend you can tell me anything-" "I'm fine Tamaki I promise you dont need to be asking me" Tamaki was taken aback at your quick response you noticed his guilty expression and took a deep breath

"I-I'm sorry I'm just stressed from all the tests and stuff you know hero stuff can be stressful" A chuckle left your mouth as you took another bite "Oh alright if you say so but if anything birhtering you dont be afraid to c-come to me alright" you sighed in relief happy that Tamaki believed you so the Two if you continued with your lunch hang out

But that was so far from the truth

Tamaki knows when something is wrong especially when it comes to the people he cares deeply about, for example, he knows when Mirio is faking a smile or when he senses Neijire feeling uncomfortable or how Kirishima tries to stay determined even tho he can hear the slight tremble and stutter in his voice, and this time he now sees it more Cleary as he sees you slowly taking a bite out your food sweating in fear and your fingers twitch a bit it's so clear that you're nervous about something so why not tell him?

He swore to this day he swore he'd find out about whoever is causing you this, and he would protect you from them; for now, he just needs to keep a close eye on you from a distance...

When the two of you finished lunch, Tamaki offered to walk you to the class which you accepted as two if you walked towards your class in a comfortable silent, as you made it to the door you waved farewell to Tamaki and made it to your seat

As the class carried on and everyone was writing down notes for the next test, you couldn't help but feel some glares in you. Of course, you knew who they were, but you felt a particular glare, a glare that made your spine curl up. You wanted to ignore the feeling, but it just wouldn't go away curious but scared you grabbed a mirror/glasses (just any object that fits with a mirror) faced towards you, and slowly rotated it to see a reflection of a couple of your classmates

It seemed fine everyone was either focused on their notes reading or doing whatever until it hit Kirishima... you jumped when his eyes were staring directly at the back of your head intensely his teeth almost showing as if he was gonna rip you apart after class, your heart rate was now increasing you tried to steady your breathing to cover up the fear and confusion, why was he looking at you like..wait of course you know why but why does it feel like he's gonna do something to me...

You looked around to see something or someone to save you from this situation until you remember you do not have anyone in this class to rely on and Neito and Shinso were extra busy, as the class bell rang everyone got up to their seats including Kirishima he began slowly walking towards you with a dangerous glint in his eyes you stood still shaking a bit in your seat trying your best to avoid contact he was inches away from your desk

As he was about to take another step, a sickly sweet voice came out of the blue and blocked your view between Kirishima and you. "Why don't we go to the library for tutoring? We haven't done it in a while, plus I'll help you improve!" You looked up that the black ponytail girl momo was it? The two of you would do tutoring together at the beginning when she began to "forget" them and just stop hosting and inviting you all together

You didn't like her sessions at all now that you remember she would always treat you like some sort of baby early on as if she was holding an animal picture book and pointing out all the animals and mimicking the noises you were so glad Kendo and teru eventually teached you

But it seemed like you didn't have a choice, but you would rather go with a ponytail than wanna know that guard dog would do; all you had to do was zone out of Momo's lessons and wait until it got dark to make an excuse to meet up with Kendo, perfect plan right?

The library would've been peacefully quiet if it weren't for Momo constantly getting your attention to look at some words that you already knew and then talk to you slowly so you could "understand" better you muster up a smile at best to reassure her that you were listening when in your mind you wanted to leave as fast as possible and meet with Kendo

As the clock finally gave you mercy and struck 5pm, you hurriedly made an excuse to end today's session. "Oh man, momo, I think the tutoring session is up. Gotta leave!" You quickly got up, pulled in the chairs, and were about to walk out. "So soon? We just got started! Plus, I can do 2 more hours-" "Oh I would love to but I'm meeting up with Kendo and I don't wanna be a bad friend and ditch her" You didn't see Momo's cheery expression fall as you were too busy packing up and heading out the library "I'll see ya later!" You bid her as the door slammed shut the library became quiet once again with only the ponytail girl's blood boiling trying to keep her cool with a tight lip smile as she waved

You pull out your phone quickly texting her that you are coming which she replies with a smiley face emoji you chuckle texting her some memes and pictures as the two of you are spamming each other's memes back and forth you don't notice how much trouble you'll be in

As you accidentally bump into someone, you quickly backed away for a split second and apologized. You took your eyes out of your phone for a second to see who you bumped into to give them a proper apology and saw..

Oh no...

Kirishima

"You.." you mentally cussed as you backed away from him cautiously. "Oh uh hey-" "Don't 'hey' me, you traitor, you, Mole!" His anger was building up as he stomped towards you and pushed you on the ground; you could barely comprehend what the hell he was talking about and why he pushed you. "What-" "You sympathizer, you traitor. I don't even know how a villain like you could still be in this school!" His words are full of venom" "I know we were a bit harsh to you, but outing us out to the most dangerous fucking villain?! What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"I didn't know he was a villain nor did I know his name!? It's not like I knew he played video games!" "Again with these weak excuses, it was so obvious he was Shigaraki!" "Maybe I would've known I had friends and not be bullied by some blonde brute and his lapdogs!" Kirishima turned to you now with a more angry expression as if he was offended without a moment he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and lifted you to his level

"You have no right to call us that when you're a simple Mole to a dangerous villain who is trying to kill us all!" He molded his free into a fist and reeled it back you bit his hand as hard as you could to make him let go but he bit his tongue and endured the pain even when his hand drew blood

As he was about to land a punch, a sudden tentacle came shooting out of nowhere toward Kirishima's free hand restraining it "Kirishima" The red hair froze at the familiarity of who that voice was, he slowly turned to see where the voice came from and only stopped mid way when he saw the indigo hair male, Tamaki his eyes glared at Kirishima in disappointment and betrayal, Kirishima quickly dropped you as you landed with a harsh thud, rude.

"T-Tamaki senpai!!, it's not what it is-" "insulting your classmate and was about to punch them? Yeah, seems how it exactly is." his words were cut off as he walked past him and toward you, gently helping you up and getting on your feet. "Are you okay? He didn't leave any bruises or marks on you, did he?" You shook your head, still in shock about Tamakis sudden behavior, as Kirishima's anger grew at the sight of the person he grew respect for that he looked up to! Is defending you?! He couldn't stand it

"Why are you defending them you don't know how much danger they put us through!" As Tamaki looked back at the boy with a serious expression," And, do you think bullying and degrading them is any better? This isn't something a hero should do, Kirishima. Have you ever thought about what they feel about it or if they intentionally wanted to?" Kirishima paused for a moment and didn't utter anything, only just avoiding his gaze. "I thought you were better than this, Kirishima; what happened to you being the "manliest hero in the hero alliance?" Was that all a ruse?" "N-no tamaki senpai it no-"

"I don't want you anywhere near me or them I don't respect someone who bullies others"

Those words shattered Kirishima as he looked in disbelief. His thoughts became a blur as he saw his mentor, his friend, leaving with his hands protectively around you, getting far away from him... was he the problem all this time?

Was he actually a lapdog?..

...

"Thanks back there you didn't have to." He stopped at his track and smiled. "No, It's fine. You weren't in the wrong anyway he was. Don't feel guilty for something you did that wasn't in your control." You looked up at him, surprised."You're not mad at me? even when I became a...mole?" That's when Tamaki embraced you with a warm hug "Of course not, even when you make a dangerous mistake like that it was the villain's fault for trying to get in your head and manipulate you but you stood strong and made the right choice by informing the teachers therefore you're not a traitor nor a Mole in my perspective"

Your eyes brimmed with tears with his words, "Thank you, thank you," as you hugged him back a little tighter. Was your luck finally turning around? Maybe not, but slowly, but at least you had more people who didn't see you as a nuisance, a child, or any traitor. It felt nice that you were treated as a human being Even if it was temporary.

A sudden buzz on your phone caught your attention, and it was still snuggled in your pocket. As you pick it up, you see a bunch of missed calls and messages from Shinso, Neito, and Kendo, all spamming concerns about your safety or if they needed to come. "Oh shit! I gotta run my friends are worried for me and Tamaki thank you I'm sure you're gonna be a great hero one day as you gave him one last hug before running off looking for you're friends before they hunt someone down to find you

Timeskip

The next day was a regular day as usual you went into class avoided everyone as possible (mostly Izuku and his gang) sat down at the back of the class and started the school day as you were doodling down stuff you noticed how dull and quiet Kirishima became when he usually would go to mina as they chat each other's ears off all-day but instead he stayed where he was and just looked down at his desk mina came over looking concern for him

"Hey Kirishima you ok man" The bubbly teen hit him on his shoulder playfully but he all did was look at her, nod, and go back to what he was doing which made the hair girl awkward and murmur an "ok" and sat back down when the teacher came in to start the lesson

Even at training, Kirishima didn't utter a single word to you or his friends. Even when they were teasing you, he just looked away. "Hehe, yeah, they're so weak, right? Kirishima, cmon say something!" His other friend Denki kept pressuring him poking his shoulder and urging him to speak but all smack his hand away and walked back leaving his friends in shock and disappointment

Even at lunch, he wasn't even interacting with anyone, just playing with his food as he barely ate. Everyone sat in silence and stared at him until his best friend finally spoke up, "The hell is up with your shitty hair?" He was then ignored as the red hair kept poking with his food staring down at it, making the blonde more irritated. He snatched his tray away and put it far from the table "Are you ignoring me?" Kirishima finally looked up at him with an annoyed expression "I just said millions of times I'm fine blasty so can I please have my food back" bakugo slammed his hand down hard infront of him

"Like hell you are! You've been acting quiet for the whole damn day! And It's getting pretty damn annoying, so spit it out. God damnit, I'm tired of this childish shit" "Kaccha,n, chill o, ut, . Don't you think you're being a bit harsh?" Denki butted him, trying to de-escalate the situation "he's right. What if he's having a bad day today? Or recently but he's right Kirishima we're all worried for you so please stop ignoring us and tell us" Everyone at the table joined him questioning and pressuring him to speak

He covered his ears not wanting to hear more without glancing a final Time at Tamaki and you talking and smiling at each other laughing tears began to brim his eyes as he got up from his seat and quickly ran out leaving his group and even Katsuki speechless

As he made it to the bathroom, he locked himself in there and took a deep breath. He then lifted his head and stared at the mirror, his reflection. "Why, just why did he have to go side with them fuck.." tears slide across his cheeks and fall through the sink he wanted to be angry at you so bad wanted to pin the blame on you or something to make him feel like he was in the right but the memories the flashbacks of how he and his friends mistreated you keep flooding back into his mind making him frustrated and yet gulity..?

Is he feeling guilty? For himself, no... for you, but how?! You're supposed to be the bad guy, not him. Why is he feeling remorse for you out of all people? Why does he suddenly feel like he wants to go on your knees and apologize it was supposed to be the opposite it's such a headache honestly and he couldn't make it stop he wants to stop thinking altogether

A knock at the door startled him and snapped him out of his thoughts. "Uh hey, is the bathroom available he stared at the door for a moment until he spoke up, clearing his throat, "Uh yeah, sorry! I'll unlock it!"

[gibbearish]

huh. having now understood reaching my target audience of one i think i now get why certain artists have gone batshit, and its because no matter their audience size or how explicitly they state things, no one gets what theyre actually saying

[spamtoon]

(Out of nowhere, you are approached by a familiar lightbulb-headed Cog.)

Ah, it's you, cat. Thinking you're oh-so-slick. Muttering and whispering under those raggedy whiskers of yours... Thinking I am unable to hear it all...

Well, you've simply underestimated my fantastic hearing. You probably want to know the reason why I'm here, taking a 'break' from my incredibly important scientific breakthroughs? It's quite simple, really!

(She gets close, and squints her eyes.)

I know what you are.

Farewell, now!

(She then leaves the way she came from.)

(Spam giggles immensely, covering her face... it always seems like she's giggling, isn't she? This lasts... at least thirty seconds. Longer than usual.)

And I know what I am too, Sparky! You broke through something, that's for sure. Really, broke through...

(She looks down, continuing to laugh nervously.)

You know, I find it odd you Havent tried to bulb blast me into the stratosphere by now. I mean knowing how you acted with Frostbite. Is there something peculiar about me that you perhaps can't quite track? Something about me that you... don't know what I am?

I know, I know, I'm talking to nobody again. But you were there when I had a moment today with the one the only Frostbite The Bravecog. You may be remaining. Lurking in the shadows. Knowing about these thoughts that I'm thinking.

(The giggling resumes, lasting far shorter this time.)

Your brother's a piece of fucking barp, by the way

(She braces for impact for a few seconds, wincing while smiling, before comically looking around to realize nobody's there. She sighs.)

Wow, okay maybe toony superhero show logic doesn't apply in this situation. Cool.

WAIT I JUST FUCKING REALIZED WHAT SHE MEANT but like. Dude if she meant that then what's the point I mean the whole ahh sellbot department barping knows unless you're Really low on the ladder. Heheh... maybe she did mean what I thought she meant.

Oh i'm so fucking screwed. What kind of bitch gets filament fever

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’d like to entertain and enliven you now with the saga of my Slut Era.

I’ve always been a serial monogamist and my shortest long term relationships clocked in at three years. So perhaps that’s why when I finally broke it off with my ex I went insane on dating. Part of it was definitely just that between anxiety and loneliness I wanted to fill up my time.

This happened when I was living alone for the first time, no roommates, just me and my little cat Leeloo. I didn’t want to come home to an empty house so instead I set up dates.

Most of these were disastrous. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I had a lot more first dates than second because they’d seen enough, including the one where people aggressively complimented me.

But after a few months I had four people I was seeing simultaneously. I was up front with all of them that things were not exclusive, and they all agreed, so no infidelity took place here, just a lot of hijinks.

Here’s who was on the dating roster:

• An apprentice woodworker that we’ll call Jill. I honestly thought at 26 years old that her being 21 wasn’t a problem age gap and I quickly learned that there was a vast gulf of both maturity and life experience between us. Jill described herself as “heteroflexible” and had just dumped her first boyfriend to flirt it up with me.

• A married woman looking for a friends with benefits. We’ll call her Alice. I insisted on meeting her husband first to be sure I wasn’t part of a cheating mess and he gave me his blessing when I stayed over at her house. Years later when he and Alice had divorced I would go on to sell him and his new fiancée an engagement ring and we both realized at the end how we knew each other and it was wildly awkward. Alice was nice, but a hardcore vegan who insisted I brush my teeth if I so much as ate string cheese before I could kiss her. She was also unhappy in her marriage and was feeling out if I’d want to get serious.

• A bartender dubbed Snakebites, so called because of her signature piercings. She cooked me a steak so raw it was still mooing and some of the best asparagus I’d ever had. In our singular sexy encounter she bit my nipple and I never got over it. Really don't bite someone if you don't know their preference and work up in pressure. We weren’t terribly compatible but neither of us were willing to admit it yet. Truthfully I considered still dating her solely because I desperately wanted her bathroom. It had all black tile, black toilet, black sink, a rain shower in the corner and a jacuzzi tub. I may not have loved her but god I loved that bathroom.

And finally,

• My beloved, who I would go on to marry, who was dealing with a lot of personal stuff at the time. Obviously that meant I liked them the best of all the people I was seeing because we were both disasters at the time.

So that’s the cast of this little misadventure. Now, our story begins with Jill.

Jill was someone who heightened my anxiety. Each of the three times she came to my home she brought and left more stuff. A self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans collection of DVDs. It was like she was trying to move in. She also liked to deride my taste in things, frequently calling me a pleb when I mentioned a band or show I liked.

She was working on a gorgeous little decorative table in her woodworking program. The main wood for the top had a beautiful dapple of knots like jaguar spots, and when she showed me a picture I exclaimed how pretty it was.

“Do you want it?”

“Oh- I mean it’s lovely, I wouldn’t mind having it, but you should sell it and make some money!”

But she was adamant. She’d give me the little side table. At about this time, Alice was starting to get awfully lovey for a FWB. I knew she wasn’t happy with her husband but I also knew we were not a good fit. Fun fact: Alice and her husband were step siblings with a pretty hefty age gap. They got together when he stumbled upon a kink photo shoot she’d done with vegetables. None of their family was happy about the relationship but they weren’t related by blood so it was fine.

So I was fending off more overt romantic advances from Alice, and feeling increasingly like I needed to break things off with Jill. Snakebites wasn’t ever initiating communication and I decided to pull a lot of plugs at once.

I ghosted Snakebites, told Alice that I thought we should cool it, and in a move worthy of a rom-com I asked my beloved if I could pretend we were exclusive to put off Jill. They agreed and I texted Jill to let her know that I was no longer single.

I was not prepared for Jill’s response. She. Was. Devastated. She flew off the handle. She’d just been waiting for the right time to tell me how she felt about me! How dare I do this to her!

What about the table?!

“You should keep the table, it’s gorgeous, you’ll be able to sell it, but I don’t expect a free table.”

Silence met me after that text. I worried and fretted and eventually headed home.

There on my doorstep. The table.

It was a small little end table, reeking of oil and polish, but very beautiful. I brought it inside. The little drawer didn’t even have a knob or guide rails. But it did have a handwritten bill proclaiming that it was costing me $500.

“I can’t afford a $500 table, Jill!” I texted.

“Well you kept saying how nice it was. I spent a lot of time on it.”

“I’m not saying it’s not worth $500” (it wasn’t, it was a tiny side table made by an apprentice) “but I can’t buy a $500 table.”

“Make me an offer.”

I stared at the little table. I did actually like it, but I worried about the repercussions of entering into this deal. Hesitantly I typed back, “$300.” I didn’t think it was worth that much but I didn’t want to insult her too badly.

This suited her for the night. But the next day she informed me she needed a new bed, and that she’d take her $300 in credit toward a new mattress. I spent the whole next day basically wrangling with her over what she wanted and eventually she spiked back up to demanding $500 for the damn table.

“Let me just give it back,” I begged. It was not the first, second, or even third time I’d asked to return the thing but this time she finally relented and gave me her address. Since she lived with her parents still I’d never been over.

I called up my beloved and said, “Hey, I need moral support, can you run an errand with me?”

They agreed which is how we loaded up a self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans DVD collection, and the table from hell into my little car together. Jill had said to meet her at one o'clock. I intended to drop everything off at noon and be done with this madness.

But while my beloved and I were on the doorstep leaving everything I heard, “Jill? You’re home early,” through the door. Her mom opened it to peer at us in confusion.

“I was just bringing Jill’s stuff back!” I chirped in alarm.

With little tact and a lot of speed we left her with Jill’s collection of things and then I sped out of there like my tail was on fire. I handed my phone to my beloved as I zoomed away instructing them to block Jill’s number. I was free. The tabletross around my neck had been returned.

It was about a month after that when my beloved and I officially began dating exclusively. I had wrapped up all my messy dating threads and it was a relief to be in a relationship again. They went on a trip to Mexico shortly after we made it official.

So I knew they were out of town. But next morning I walked out to my car and beheld a lipstick kiss pressed to the drivers side window.

I was petrified. I had just dumped three girls at once and had an extremely messy back and forth with one of them. Did I have a stalker?!

Of the girls, Alice seemed like likeliest candidate, being of a stronger lipstick variety girl than Jill or Snakebites. We had ended things a bit stiffly, but still cordial. She just laughed when I asked if she knew anything about it. “Nope,” she said, “but good luck.”

I’d rather have walked over broken glass then text Jill, and I’d firmly ghosted Snakebites so I was scared to reopen communication to ask if she was stalking me. I had to drop it. But it haunted me, that lipstick kiss.

For months I was jumpy, wondering which of my spurned lovers had done it. And why. Was it a threat? A goodbye? I lay awake thinking about it, worrying about how everyone I’d dated knew where I lived, which car was mine.

Finally, nothing else happened and I moved on. The kiss would remain a mystery and I had to be content with that.

It was a year later when I finally started filling my mom in on my dating escapades that I finally got closure. She was hooting and laughing as I went over the table debacle. Then I paused and added, “And then this kiss showed up on my car.”

“Did you like it?”

“What? No! I’m pretty sure one of them was stalking me! Who else would leave a kiss on my car?”

My mom started bellowing with laughter. “I did!” She wheezed.

Apparently. My mother had been driving by my place. And decided that a cute little gesture would be to leave me a kiss. And then decided to never mention it to me even though she’s never done anything like that previously.

“It scared the crap out of me!” I yelled while she collapsed with helpless laughter. “I thought I had a stalker! How could I possibly have known that was you?!”

“How could I have known you’d just broken up with three girls at once?” She wheezed in rejoinder and like. Fair play.

So that’s how my mom convinced me I had a stalker and I got out of buying a $500 table.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

☆ oliver aiku vs. his ex!

synopsis: oliver aiku was always a ladies' man. a sadistic one, at that. he enjoyed playing with emotions, enjoyed being in control, enjoyed ruining women at the whims of his heart and dick. so, when he decides he's had enough of his cheerleader!gf and breaks up... why does she not look upset? in fact, why is she brushing him off, acting like he didn't mean shit to her?? huh? guess it's upto him to remind you just what a wonderful boyfriend he is. pairing: pro soccer player!oliver aiku x cheerleader!gf cw: hate-sex. marathon sex. making a sex tape. nsfw includes: fingering, penetration, creampie, oliver being a bitch and lowkey toxic. NOT PROOFREAD. wc: 2.9k

oliver aiku wasn't an actor by profession. no, he was a soccer player. the entire world knew that by now, you knew that by now.

yet the way he had clasped his hand — intertwining his digits — and looked at you with his pretty face all furrowed, you may as well given him an oscar for best actor.

"it hurts me to do this. it really fuckin' does." oliver nodded, splaying his large palm against his muscled chest, "but, i'm afraid it's just not working out between us."

you almost wanted to laugh in his face.

so, this is why he had booked a reservation at the same restaurant he had asked you out at just two months prior.

you could recall that night as if it was yesterday. the winds were unforgiving as you had sat on the same table in the same balcony area. that night, his heterochrome eyes were locked in on yours and he smiled so softly when he asked you out. words candied, so awfully, awfully sweet: "'s you and me, baby. forever."

how funny that forever lasted 2 month and 6 days.

now, the same dim overhead lighting panted the man in a subtle glow, hiding his dark intentions just as well as it hid the dips and curves of his facial features.

he reached for your hand on the table, methodically rubbing circles into your skin as his eyes bore into yours. he repeated, "you get me, right, baby?"

you almost did laugh in his face.

stifling your amusement under the guise of sadness, you nodded, "i understand it all, oliver. all too well, at that."

you knew oliver was a sadistic man, a man that replaced women with the flick of his fingers. something in him got off at their spluttering breaths, their wide eyes as they tried to ask him questions: but why? why do you want to break-up? oliver, why? why, why, why?

too bad you weren't one of those girls at oliver aiku's feet.

maybe he had forgotten that you had known him for ages, that you were well-versed with his tactics — being the captain of the national japanese cheerleading team. maybe he had forgotten that you knew what kind of man he was long before he started chasing after you. and maybe he had forgotten that if he tried to ruin you, you'd ruin him thrice over.

covering his larger palm with yours much smaller ones, you leaned forward. the swell of your tits was a sight to see, your cleavage so delicious against that low-cut dress but it was your words that made oliver aiku question his sanity, "i really get you, oli. with your career and mine, it's just so hard to make this work. i was gonna suggest the same. we should really break up."

what?

whatever flickers of amusement were left in his heterochrome eyes turn to ashes, sinking within his tanned skin as he physically froze. his eyes took you in, words barely pushing past his lips, "what?"

"you're right." you patted his hand sympathetically, "we should break-up, baby."

the two of you sat in silence, basking each-other in as the chatter in the background faded off. suddenly, the sensual ambience of the restaurant turned into one of stark... confusion...?

the man opened his mouth, pretty lips parting before closing again, and again, and again like a goddamn fish out of water.

"right. right." the man finally breathed out, shifting backwards in his seat and nodding, "i'm glad we both agree then."

"thanks for the meal, oliver." you smiled, pulling your hands back to your lap. your posture straightened, eyes tangling against his in such a cruel dance. "i'm so glad we could end this mutually."

"of course," the man rasped, trying to mask his disappointment at your level-headed tone.

why weren't you in shambles yet?

his lips wobbled as they fell into a smile, and the gesture left some sort of sick, twisted satisfaction in your gut.

oliver grit out, "i'm glad too."

that was two weeks ago, and you had walked away from the restaurant with heart well and intact. oliver aiku was a language you were well-versed in, after all. he was destruction, ruination, he was everything you should stay away from.

but now... the real question was: if oliver aiku was soo glad that you broke up, then why was he running towards you after winning the championship quarter-finals?

sweat dripped off the planes of his cheeks, down his jaw and into his jersey. he cleared his throat, completely ignoring your teammate who had been talking to you seconds prior. his eyes zeroed in on you, "oh, didn't see you there."

the man huffed, eyeing you in your tight-fitting uniform. the man in question smirked, keeping up with his own nonchalant attitude, "how ya doin', sweets?"

"didn't see me?" you repeated with a jump in your brows, "you didn't see the cheer team throughout the match? have you lost your vision, aiku? or worse, your mind?"

"oh? have i?" the slight, seductive lilt in his voice never gave up and you stared daggers at him, "what is it, aiku?"

"how was that, huh?"

"how was what?"

"my... play? the game?" the man slowed his speech down as if you were not comprehending him thoroughly.

"good, i guess?" you shrugged, still turned towards the teammate that seemed to sense the tension between you two. as if on cue, she left you to alone. walking away with the signature ponytail swaying with each graceful step.

you dragged your gaze back to the man and waited for him to spill. and spill, he did.

"i was thinking about the break-up." he finally fessed, a hand flying up to tame his unruly hair, "and i think it may have been a mistake."

a smirk threatened to break out on your lips but being a woman of class, you cooed instead, "but i do think it was the right decision. i don't think we should get back together, oli."

"what? f'real?" he panted, wiping a hand to get rid of the sweat that was cascading down his forehead.

you just hummed.

"what? jus' asking." and he grinned — unabashed, uncaring that the whole world might make when they see his crazed expression, "dont'cha miss me? be honest. don't you miss my dick? bet i can get you to come back with just an one night sta—"

"—nah, you're too tiny, aiku. it won't get the work done."

of course, the former captain didn't lose his cool. instead, he laughed — the kind that made your skin crawl and sent a violent, hot throb down to your core. his heterochrome eyes narrowed in some sort of evil satisfaction and he dragged his hand over his stubble so, so slowly.

he finally leaned in, "you want me to ruin you? ya wanna gamble your life like that?"

"can you?" you paused, purposefully looking at him with those doe-eyes, "can you 'ruin me', oliver?"

"hah." he pulled back, giving you an easy smile, "trying to push all my buttons? you have no idea how this'll end for you."

you nodded, "you think you'd scare me, aiku?"

"baby..." his voice was a drawl, words so well-pronounced, "i'd do you worse than that."

maybe you forgot that if you tried to ruin oliver aiku thrice over, he would go for a nasty total of four times instead.

"oli— a-aiku." your breath stuttered as his silhouette became blurry. hot tears pricked at your lash-line as he bullied his digits deeper and deeper into your cunt once more.

his pace was inhumane, fingers still playing against your gummy walls till he found the spot that was your kryptonite. and then, he kept assaulting that very spot over and over again. over n' over n' over again till your back arched and moans tore out of your throat so pathetically.

"i can't. i can't. ca-can't." you babbled — fucked so dumb on his thick fingers — as he tried to pull your fourth orgasm out of you, "a-aiku."

"ah." he hummed, his fingers fucking into you so, so mean. his pace slowed only so that you could focus on his rough voice, "tch, look right here."

his digits moved with purpose, their purpose being your ruination. and you lost yourself in the feeling of your stomach tightening, another violent orgasm trying to pry itself out of your aching body.

you were pulled into reality with a harsh squeeze of your cheeks. your teary eyes widened, wobbling lips falling into a forced pout as oliver repeated himself, "look into the fuckin' camera, doll."

"o-okay." your eyes dragged upwards from man to the tripod set at the edge of the bed. your shaky vision took in the metallic luster of his phone and you tried to focus.

"okay," he rasped, "now tell 'em how good i'm fucking ya." he cut himself off with a laugh, "ah, wait i haven't even fucked you yet and you're still so fucked out, isn't it?"

"no-oh." a harsh slap to your throbbing clit had your head rolling backwards. oliver hummed, "i asked you to speak up," another harsh slap had you gasping, "so, speak the fuck up."

"i-" your voice wavered pathetically, eyes barely focused on the camera that was perched a few meters apart, "i fuckin' hate oliver aiku."

"oh?" his amused laugh hit your core, hot breath playing with your overstimulated cunt. his fingers steadied, the impending orgasm that was just now knocking at your door dissipated with each drawled out second.

"oh?" he laughed again, this time slowly pulling his fingers out, "you hate me?"

"i- i do." you almost cringed at the weak resolve in your voice, and cringed once again as you failed to meet his eyes. oliver stared daggers at you, pushing his pretty fingers past his hungry lips to finally taste you.

"hmm," he hummed against his digits, popping them out lewdly, "you taste so fuckin' sweet but you're a mean, lil' thing. aren't ya?"

"yeah, i am. why?" as your body finally caught a break from his unyielding acts, your voice grew firmer, "are you having a tough time handling me?"

"you're so cute." the soccer player raised himself upwards and caged you in under him, muscled back rippling with each step forward. his fingers hooked under your chin, voice so soft, "why do you hate me?"

the very next second, he was off you. clad only in his boxers, oliver aiku carried himself to his phone and removed it off the tripod. bringing the device to you, he started a new video, "how about you tell all the reasons you hate me to the camera?"

"wh-huh?"

the phone was handed over into your shaking hands and you stared at your flushed face in the front camera as the camera kept on recording. your eye makeup was a mess, highlighter and blush smudged as lipstick dragged off of your lips to your chin.

"go on." oliver dragged his boxers down and you to his lap. with one smooth motion, his achingly hard cock was inside your abused cunt.

"o-li-ver." his words were mere syllables as your eyes clasped shut. his hips rutted upwards, his strong hands wrapping around your waist as he kept fucking into you. the mushroom tip dragging so deliciously against your g-spot.

"go on," he grit, words a desperate command, "tell the camera w-why you hate me, doll."

"first, you're so me-mean sometimes." you caught your face contorting into pleasure as oliver kept up with his pace.

"am i?"

"mhm." you nodded, one hand shakily clasping the camera and another wrapping around his shoulders to stablize yourself. he dragged his lips down your jaw, his stubble a familiar scratch against your skin, "what else?"

"you keep flirt—ingh ah, ah, ah wi—with other women, oli." he inhaled your scent, obscenely licking at the thin layer of perspiration on your neck, "and?"

"and you're s-sho," your words slurred at his sudden hard thrust within you, "pretentious."

he smiled against your skin, words so scratchy as your velvety walls milked him to his demise, "using big words now, pretty?"

your eyes met his in a lewd, charged dance. the long-forgotten video still getting filmed in the background as he captured your lips in a messy kiss; all teeth and spit and sins.

"'m not dumb like ya," you breathed against his kiss-bitten lips for a bare second before your lips clashed against his again. a strong hand travelled up your spine, the touch so intimate as he pounded his cock up into your cervix.

"o-oli," your hand shook, another wrapping around him as your hardened nipples rubbed against his hard, muscled body, "'m gonna cum."

"not yet." the man babbled, "not yet. not yet. finish telling the camera why you hate me."

"i ha-te you." you nodded, eyes drooping dangerously as you tried to speak into the phone, "i hate oli 'cause he only da-dated me to... fuck, oli. he dated me jus' to break up."

"did you not wanna break up?" the man cooed, though the undertones of his voice revealed the dark satisfaction of your admission, "ya said ya wanted it."

"i— i did."

"an' now?" his eyes bore into your face, words so desperate that they dangled at the edge of insanity, "say you love me."

your eyes widened, sanity clearing only for a moment to deny his hurling accusations, "i don't."

a harsh roll of his hips had your eyes rolling back again, had your manicured nails sinking into his tanned skin and had your jaw slacking open just for his to kiss you senseless.

"say it." he mumbled against your lips, drunk on you, "jus' say it. say y-you love me, doll."

you found yourself losing your senses as he fucked into you with one harsh rut and then another, and another. a hand snaked lazily between your writhing, sweaty bodies to play against you long-neglected clit, "c'mon. spill, doll."

"i do." you nodded finally, lips wettened by your crazed kisses and body molding to his corrupt touches, "i love you, oli."

"good girl." he smiled against your glossed lips, "say you want me back."

you repeated after him, a mindless husk of a woman at his disposition, "i wan' you ba-ah fuck 'm gonna cum."

"say it."

"i wantyouback." your words mushed together as you finally felt your orgasm clash against your own body. your thighs shook, the limbs closing tightly against his well-defined waist and his phone dropped from your limp grasp onto the luxurious bed.

"good girl, jus' like that." oliver nodded, his words so very dark as you finally fell limp against his body. his hand methodically soothed you, rubbing patterns into your back as he fucked his erection right into your overstimulated core.

heavy breaths stuttered out of your used body, eyes clasping shut at the feel of his warmth against your entire skin and the mess he was making against your puffy folds.

"fuuuck." his hips came to a stutter, arms growing tighter against your ribcage as the man emptied himself within your inviting, plush cunt with a pornographic moan, "fuckin' hell, i forgot just how good you feel like this."

the sticky, white-ish liquid dribbled past your fluttering cunt and pooled within you two. oliver pushed you a mere inches away to bring his hands to your face. as his heterochrome eyes burned into yours, the warmth from his palm seemed to seep into your cold cheek... but now, his touch felt too hot, as if it would char you.

oliver aiku gave you a smile — a dangerous one — and the dimple in his cheek came alive, "i'm so happy we're back together, baby."

wait, what???

but before you could question him, before you could take a pause and wonder aloud, his syrupy lips caught yours and he shushed you, "shh, 's okay. jus' go to sleep, baby. i'll clean you up, okay?"

"but oli—"

"—baby." his words were gentle, actions so soft as he laid you down on the bed and kissed your forehead, "just sleep, doll. we can talk tomorrow, right?"

and you nodded. how could you not as he dragged his strong palms up and down your sore body and mumbled sweet nothings into the pliant, night air?

the next morning, as the sun shone past his glass windows and onto your sleepy face, you saw a half-dressed oliver hovering on the side of the bed.

"what?" you asked lazily, rubbing the sleep off of your eyes. half aware that you were still in his bed, you stared at him confused.

"what?" he repeated with a dopey smile.

"what'dyou want?" your words slurred, the morning voice creeping in within the syllables.

"nothing." oliver grinned, bending down to boop your nose with his index, "jus' wanted to say goodmorning to my beautiful girlfriend."

your eyes widened, body shooting up so fast that your forehead collided against his dense head, "—ouCH!"

"jesus," the man staggered, rubbing the area you had assaulted with his index and middle finger, "what?!"

"you were serious about that?!"

"you were not?" he quipped, and you shook your head as if he was the insane one, "obviously not."

"ah," oliver aiku nodded — as if in a deep thought — before looking down at you. flickers of amusement swam in his irises, lips lopsided and twisted as he looked at you as if you were his personal lab rat, "well, too bad we're back together now, doll."

what the fuck.

a/n: OLIVER AIKU THE MAN YOU AREEE. I LOVE TO HATE YOU. MY CRINGEFAIL HUSBAND FOREVER MWUAH MWUAH. tagging: @moodswing101 @actuallynarii @5hoe1 @mininji @scara-simp69 @heartfeltstarry @keimorii because like why, not?

[januaryembrs]

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

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

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

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

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

series masterlist | next chapter

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer gulped quietly. 

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

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing. 

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

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

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

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

So why lie?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+1. The one where you get arrested.

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

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

Yet so was Emily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+2. The one where you graduate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bug-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t even,” 

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was when the shooting started. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could only hope Emily was safe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so they did. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

This was not good. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

2:53 stared back at her. 

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

2:54.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she saw why. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saved mine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stayed with Emily for a month after that. 

+4. The one where you leave the altar. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

[sugutiva]

❝ THAT P ★ SSY GOT POWER ! ❞ — G. SATORU

ᥫ᭡. synopsis : for some reason . . . the strongest sorcerer in the world ( purposely ) got struck by a lust curse.

tags : smut, p in v, oral sex ( f! receiving ), enemies to lovers (?), reader folds quickly LMAO, gojo eats us out against the wall . . . again, hair pulling, pussy spanking, overstimulation, teasing, cowgirl, switch!gojo, slight orgasm denial, creampie, cursing, dirty talk, all lowercase intended, not proofread !

a/n : if this flops again tumblr is RACIST.

“ we need you to go talk to gojo satoru, and convince him to come back to jujutsu high.”

oh. so he’s the reason why you’re attending a meeting even though it’s your off day.

your face twists into an expression of displeasure, not only from the burdensome demand of gakuganji and possibly the other higher ups, but from the sound of his gravelly voice ringing throughout the spacious room. nonetheless, you bite your tongue. “ seriously, me? why would i ever do something like that?”

it’s extremely rare as a sorcerer to catch a simple day off, and the fact that you were called in to fetch a man-child to come back to his responsibilities was . . . aggravating. to say the least.

gakuganji continues, “ his disappearance has already gone on further than we’d like,” he takes a pause to lift his head slightly, looking you dead in the eyes. “ so seeing how you’re the only free adult, we chose you to go fetch for him.”

you cross your arms and legs before leaning back in the couch. as he explains in more detail on how there’s an increase of curses, and how no one's teaching the second and first years, ( not like they’d mind ) you start to feel a twinge of sympathy.

sure, you and gojo don’t see eye to eye sometimes, but it was unusual for him to go missing all of a sudden and leave everything behind. ( although he’d eerily fantasize about killing the higher ups whenever he was provoked enough ) you uncross your body before standing up from the couch swiftly.

“ i’ll check on him. but i wouldn’t guarantee a return from him,”

“ great choice, [last name].”

- -

all for jujutsu high and humanity.

giving three loud knocks to his door, you wait, and get no answer in response. “ gojo satoru, can you open up already?” you yell, surely loud enough for him to at least crack the door open. still, you get no answer from the other side.

just as you were casually mapping the outside of his house for an easy way to get inside, the door swiftly opens. there stood the man in question in all of his glory; he wore grey baggy sweats— and it seemed like no boxers underneath because of how his white happy trail seductively peeked out from underneath while the print of his cock was hardly concealed. the upper half of his toned body shined in a coat of sweat while he leaned his upper body against the door frame.

was he exercising. . . or maybe doing something else?

“ you just gonna stare at me after almost breaking my door off it’s hinges?”

shit. he caught you practically gawking at him.

“ i— um. we need to talk,” you gulp, feeling more nervous compared to any other time you’ve talked to him before. “ you‘ve been playing hooky for quite too long now and the higher ups are on my ass about it.”

he stares at you unfazed, you stare back.

but to your surprise, instead of slamming the door in your face and hiding away for longer, he shifts his body over, enough for you to come inside.

“ geez. those hags don’t ever know when to fall back.” he dramatically groans as you hesitantly step in to take your shoes off before walking in further.

vaguely, you swear you felt the weight of his eyes tracing your figure as you walk into his apartment, heading to his living room. you choose to brush it off.

inside it’s modern and creepily bare, like there’s no one actually existing in here— including this alluring scent. it’s not bad but it is heavy, as if a burdensome weight is on your shoulders. definitely musk but the strong scent of cinnamon is also within the mix. again, you brush it off while sinking down into the couch cushions, too late to turn back now.

gojo walks in later than you, and instead of sitting across from you— he plops right next to you, sluggishly resting his long arms on the back of the couch while manspreading, his freakishly lengthy legs invades the little space you have. your face contorts into an expression of outwardly discomfort. “ why’re you sitting right next to me, gojo?”

“ you rudely wake me up by pounding on my door, and now i can’t sit where i want in my living room?” he blows out a breath of air while rolling his eyes with a level of sass that makes you cringe slightly. “ girl. you really don’t have any manners at all. not like that’s a surprise tho—“

” please, let’s just focus on the reason why i came here.” you curtly cut him off, barely refraining yourself from slapping him in the head now that his infinity was off.

you knew he wouldn’t listen in the first place, so the sight of his head hanging off the couch while his leg rocked up and down rhythmically like this was the most boring lecture he had to sit through shouldn’t really piss you off— but it does. you let out an exhausted groan while rubbing your temples to soothe your growing headache. you really wish you hadn’t picked up the phone today. “ do you even care about the effect your disappearance has caused right now? you really are a careless manchi—“

“ i need to fuck you.” he bluntly states.

what? you couldn’t had possibly heard that right.

“ i-i’m sorry?”

he shifts, his body is now upright, contrasting his previous lazy posture. “ you want to know why i’ve been gone?” he waits for you to nod, which you do. “ i got struck by some sort of lust curse, so in order for it to go away, we need to fuck.” you don’t get a chance to fully register his words before his lips are on yours.

you feel him sigh into your mouth, as if you two making out on his couch relieved him from all his frustrations. you can’t deny that you’re into it like how he is, especially when he rolls his raging bulge into the inside of your thigh so desperately— but this isn’t the reason why you came here. obviously gojo thinks otherwise.

“ g-gojo! we can’t,” your voice trembles, and so does your body as you push the white haired man away from you. when he looks back in your eyes, you immediately notice that there’s truly something wrong. his pupils are wildly dilated— to the point where you can barely see his signature blue.

the intensity of his gaze freezes you in place. but you can’t shake off the feeling of being lured in.

almost like he’s hypnotizing you.

“ says who, baby?” his hand creeps down to the waist band of your pants, he tugs on your panties, only letting them go so they can soundly snap back against your skin, making your hips jolt in his grasp. “ don’t deny it now. i bet ya’ she’s gonna be leaking f’me.” the palm of his hand grinds down on your clothed mound.

this time, you’re the one to pull him into a heated kiss, and he matches your energy fully. your nails scratches at his undercut, forcing a needy moan to leave his chest and wander into your awaiting mouth. the kiss is so intense that you don’t realize that he’s taken off your pants along with your underwear until your bare skin touches around his while he carries you into his bedroom.

he presses your back to the wall only to hike you up further on the wall— the way how you’re positioned is that you’re currently using him as your own chair.

“ you do the most. are you really going to eat me out against a wall?” you tut, knowing that you’re not actually against the idea. your question isn’t answered with words, but when he presses moist kisses leading from your thigh to your soaked cunt, you think you have a inkling of the answer.

he blows on your erect clit before focusing his attention on your flustered face. “ for someone who was pushing me away . . . you sure are soaked.” your mouth opens, most likely with a bratty response. although it’s quickly forgotten when he presses a spit filled peck on your clit. there’s a line of spit that connects him to your cunt as he pulls away. “ ‘m not tryna embarrass you. just find it quite adorable.”

“ w-will you ever just shut up, and eat me out? i’m sick of hearin’ your mouth, gojo.” you murmur, watching as his grin grows impossibly wider— the bastard is riling you up on purpose just for his twisted entertainment. there will be a time later on tonight where you’ll get him back for that.

but for now, you need to feel his tongue mapping out every inch of your pussy.

he huskily chuckles, you want to ignore the effect that the sound does to you. “ heh. i got you baby,” with that, he rolls his tongue out on your heat, licking a fat stripe of spit in the direction to your pulsing clit. your body shudders as you finally get what you desire; your sworn enemy eating you out while your figure is trapped between him and a wall.

and oh is he nasty with it.

“ s-shit— you’re doing s’gooood, satoru!” you lewdly whine out, the knuckles of your hands turn a shade brighter than your skin as you tug on his pristine hair. moving away from your clit, he focuses on sloppily flicking your opening with his tongue. “ satooooru!”

for this being your first time hooking up together, gojo is uncannily skilled at fucking you dumb with only his tongue. it makes you yearn for what else he can do to you next.

gojo pulls back from your cunt, the lower half of chin is alluringly coated with your juices and his saliva. “ damn. she tastes too fuckin’ good. and why have you been keeping this away from me for so long?” he mutters to himself rather than you. his hand comes down on your cunt as a harsh smack, he delivers another and another before waiting for your reaction. when more slick dribbles out your hole, sliding down to your ass, it makes him want to go beyond feral.

“ looks like i’ve got myself a masochistic slut, heh.” no more is said as his mouth resumes back on your pussy, throwing you back into that wave of euphoria. the muscles in your thighs twitch, drawing him closer to your syrupy madness.

satoru moans, his hips bucks up on the wall as if to find some friction while splitting you down with that wonderful tongue. your toes are curled, back lifting from off the wall and every strangled moan you yell makes him thrust his tongue faster, along with his hips— the distant pleasure coming from fucking the wall is not near enough to make him cum, not that he’s worried about that, as your hypnotic taste is making him shamefully pussydrunk.

“ oh. ooooh, ‘m so close, you’re gonna make me cum!” you pant out while instinctively clamping your walls around his tongue shoving itself in. he’s more determined than ever, messily tongue fucking you while kneading your ass in his big hands. how he manages to hold you up by your ass only, it’s still a wonder.

your hips have a mind of their own as they grind down for your sweet release, and at this rate you don’t know if your pulling him away or closer to you. but when he hollowly sucks at your empty hole, that triggers your powerful orgasm.

“ d-don’t stooop! i’m cumming!” your eyes clamp shut as you throw your head back before bursting out into trembles. satoru continues to listen to your earlier words. he delivers kitten licks onto your clit just begging for his attention. “ satoru— i’m too sensitive,”

he doesn’t care to listen.

finally, he comes up from the spot between your thighs as your recovering from yet another messy orgasm. “ okay messy girl, as much as i love eating you out— i think you should show me some attention too.”

wordlessly, he carries your limp body over to his bed— in the traditional bridal carry this time. you think it’s somewhat romantic, but of course gojo has to ruin it by chucking you on piece of furniture, making you meet his incredibly soft duvets face first. “ the fuck?” you gain composure by lifting yourself on your hands and knees, looking back to throw him the nastiest glare you could muster. “ i swear at this point you’re getting no pussy, gojo.”

he pays your words no mind. as he pulls his pants down, his cock uncontrolledly springs free from it’s restraint. fuck, it was so big and pretty. the sheer length will no doubtfully have you feeling over cockdrunk, his tip flushes an angry red that makes your mouth water.

“ what about not getting any pussy?” he cheekily mocks you, stroking the head of his cock to smear the pearly pre-cum down his length.

“ shut the fuck up and get on the bed.” you whine, struggling by the second to keep up your bratty facade. the sound of the bed dipping under his body weight makes you flip over on your elbows and spread your legs wide for his gaze.

complying, he still rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. “ geez. okay daddy,” his hands grabs you by the thighs and yanks you on your back completely. he presses the slit of his head against your clit, watching with delight as your folds compliments each side of his cock like a lewd hotdog. “ yer’ so mouthy but that’s expected, gonna have to fix that little problem though.”

“ i’m the mouthy one? that’s real fuckin’ funny coming from the one who cannot shut up for one second to save his life.” you bitterly cackle, although your voice comes out shaken from the audible clicks of your pussy getting played with. when he slightly dips into the warmth of your opening before trailing upwards to your clit again, you resist the urge to strangle him. “ — if you’re teasing me, i’m going to hurt you.”

he rolls his eyes unenthusiastically at the cold stare you give him from underneath your full eyelashes. “ tsk. you’re no fun, baby.” with one swift movement, he’s sinking into your gummy walls with a relieved groan.

maybe, because of the high side effects of the lust curse running it’s course is the reason why satoru finds himself cumming too early with not even a full pump.

and it’s a lot.

“ s-shiiiit— that was t-too early, can’t s-stop!” his body bursts into violent trembles— mimicking your own previously. hot ropes of cum taints your walls with the sensation of his cum while his hands grab at your thighs with a death grip that will for sure leave bruises later, having you sore for days. you think it’s rather endearing how vulnerable he looks.

gojo was just— if not more, surprised than you were.

it feels like forever when he finally comes down from his high, and you feel out of breath just watching him. “ that . . . that was not supposed to h-happen.” he weakly mutters, his head hanging down from embarrassment. somwhat, you’re prideful knowing that only you had him feeling like this.

“ ‘nd all that big talk just for you to be a one pump champ,” now, it’s his turn to weakly glare at you, “ think you can still fuck me? or do i have to ride you?” you grab a fistful of his hair before tugging his face close, to the point where your breath fans over his open, panting mouth. the pain from your dominant actions shoots through his veins and to his sensitive cock, resulting in it twitching greedily in your tense walls. “ am i talking to myself, satoru?”

“ fuck— n-no.”

you smirk, and to satoru you look exceedingly sexy and evil; a deadly combo. “ my good boy,” you peck his lips, letting the grip you have of his hair go so he can pull out of you. when he does, copious amounts of cum immediately pours from your quivering hole in a thick, flowing motions with a loud popping sound to accompany. with just one load he’s managed to stuff you full.

he flips over while hugging your body close to his. relaxing his figure, he watches as you aligned yourself against him, your shirt long gone by now, and your body is beautifully presented to him with the marks he inflicted upon the free reign of skin.

you could tell he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

“ don’t— don’t think about teasing me now, not when i need you this m-much.” he briefly forgets how to breath as your sticky folds rubs against the head of his cock, drowning in more cum until it reaches his base.

“ oh, you don’t like your own game being played on you?” you grunt, rolling your hips sensually down. his adam’s apple bobs as swallows his growing anticipation he can barely contain. but after a few dragged out moments of teasing, resulting in you feeling torturously edged as well— you finally sink down on him. “ fuuuck . . .” you whisper to yourself.

you lips tremor as you pause, allowing yourself to being properly stretched out as your pussy invites in as much as possible. this isn’t the first time you’ve had sex with someone, but the hefty length of satoru makes you pause before going on. when the dull stinging pain shifts to that familiar mouth watering pleasure, you find your pace. satoru hands fly out to grip the sheets with faux serenity as your pussy continues to clamp around him like a vice grip.

“ haaah, you just couldn’t w-wait to fuck yourself silly on my cock, huh?” his voice is eerily clear, as if he wasn’t a overstimulated mess from his previous release. you make fiery eye contact with him, the way how his eyes are hazed but still feel so heavy on your body makes you almost go numb. “ this is everything i needed baby, shit!”

“ that mouth never knows when to s-shut up.” you mutter out, before the action of you bouncing up and down on his lap increases viciously. the sinful sounds of your skin clashing down against his, every inch of him knocking on your sweet spot, and both of your sweet moans combined together sounded like an erotic song that gojo would never get tired of hearing. “ sa— mmph, satoruu!” gojo has the most cockiest but pathetic expression right now; his brows are furrowed while he shamelessly watched you recoil your body against his.

“ i . . . i think ‘m close, keep on rocking your hips like that— fuck, you’re so sexy!” his tip spasms in your tight space as a warning as of what’s about to come.

but suddenly, you stop moving. edging him on with a cheeky smirk.

you cut him off before he can talk, “ we can’t have you cumming just yet ‘toru.” he’s surprised he didn’t bust right then and there when you said his nickname in that sultry tone. you give him a vigorous show by rubbing two fingers on your pearl for his view.

“ such’a needy slut playing with her pussy f’me.” he bites his lip as he watches your clit swirl under your ministrations, his orgasm is on the back burner of his mind while he watches you. “ roll it just like that— there ya fuckin’ go, babe.”

once you feel your pleasure heighten inevitably, you resume back to bouncing on gojo. this time, with your hand advancing rapidly on your clit, and his calloused hands squeezing your ass heart fully. he effortlessly looks attractive underneath you, his chest and neck are flushed a sweaty mess as strands of his white hair sticks to his damp skin around his forehead.

“ wan’a cum with you, toru.” you lean over to nip his throat, your pussy contracts when you feel his breath hitch. “ want to feel you s-stuff me full, pleaseee fuck!”

it’s unintentional, but your whiny voice alone drags him into a powerful orgasm.

it’s not long before you follow suit.

“ my nasty good girl,” his voice comes out as an harsh whisper before he grabs your hair to tug you closer to his face. the kiss you share together is no short of animalistic; it’s all teeth with tongue, and when you pull away your lip is bleeding, tainting his own an alluring deep shade of red.

you force your hips to continue rocking against him due to the frenzy. increased squelches resonates through the fuzzy room along with your combined moans. you feel sparks of electricity shoot through your limbs, your cunt squeezes more slick out, creating a translucent ring around the hefty base of his cock.

there must be something in the air, seeing how many orgasms you pull out of each other.

for some reason . . . the strongest sorcerer in the world got struck by a lust curse.

and you’re able to bring him back a day later, with just your pussy alone.

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Game Show Host Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: I saw this request and was like this is such a cool request but what if we made him an evil game show host. Like one that would put contestants in deadly scenarios.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host who kidnaps all of the contestants and forces them to play this twisted game that he created for money. Don’t worry though, he rigged the entire game to be in your favor. It was discreet enough for the viewers not to really care but apparent enough for you to notice the favoritism. Did you care? Hell no!! As long as you were getting paid you and survived this whole ordeal could give a rats ass about what happened next. Even when you do manage to get certain questions wrong, he will just brush it off and pretend that it was just a warm up question. The contestants are definitely seething whenever they see this happening.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host is a psychopath by nature. In each round, he presents the contestants with morally ambiguous dilemmas, enticing them with promises of grand rewards while dangling the threat of dire consequences for failure. Whether it's forcing them to choose between betraying a fellow contestant or facing a treacherous obstacle, he revels in their anguish, relishing the psychological torment he inflicts.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host is doing everything in his power to make sure that you win the game. He can’t have his poor baby feeling upset if they fail to win the grand prize. He would absolutely give out the most insane questions that practically no one knows the answer to. The punishment for getting a few questions wrong is mutilation of certain body parts and if you get too many questions wrong then you’ll end up being sent to your death. While everyone is basically being tortured in their punishments, he’d never allow that to happen to you. At most he’d probably just flick your forehead and call it a day. I imagine that most of the people watching the show are people who paid for the contestants to be kidnapped and be brought there against their wishes. Everyone who is put onto his show is a horrible person, including yourself, and have done something to be warranted to be there.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host bends all the rules of the game for you, providing subtle hints or covert assistance to ensure your safety. Although he has a strong desire to see others in pain and suffering, his love for you is stronger. At first justifies these actions as preserving the "entertainment value" of the show, but deep down, he's driven by an inexplicable desire to protect you.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host would baby you during your time there. He’d make a fuss whenever you tried to do anything remotely dangerous or touch some blood. I could totally see him using a baby voice to try to convince you to stop what you're doing. He has no shame, and everyone is looking at him with utter disbelief/confusion on their faces.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Oh No! Please don’t go over there! You might slip from all the blood on the ground! Come here let me carry you across.”

Viewers: “…”

The contestant with their leg cut off: “…”

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host thrives on the power he wields over his contestants, reveling in their suffering as they navigate his challenges. As the game progresses, his demeanor grows more twisted, enjoying the contestants' internal conflicts and emotional turmoil. He taunts them with mocking laughter, reveling in their discomfort and manipulating their decisions to heighten the drama. God forbid that you manage to develop a crush on someone while you are there. He’d absolutely lose it and do everything in his power to crush them. You best believe that he’s going to keep them alive for as long as possible and give them the worst punishments known to man.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host has cameras everywhere and when it's time for the contestants to rest for the night he’s going to be observing you. He’s a loser who doesn’t really know how to act around you without becoming a mess. In his spare time, he likes to just watch you through the cameras and imagine himself right next to you. He’s absolutely delulu about your feelings towards him and believes that you feel the same way. Even when you do manage to win this fucked up game, he’s not letting you go. There’s no way that he’s letting you leave after you managed to steal his heart. After this is all over, he’s taking you to his house and locking you there.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host holds pride in knowing how many people are at the mercy of his hand. Has a minor God complex and has this skewed mindset about how everyone else is beneath him besides you. Believes that you were made just for him and that you're his one true love. Would rather die than give you up or allow anyone to “take you away from him”. He’s like an annoying roach and almost impossible to get rid of. He’s making sure to stay with you for as long as possible.

—

Yandere! Game Show Host strides onto the stage with a wicked gaze, his piercing gaze fixed on the contestants. His voice, a chilling blend of charm and malice, booms through the speakers as he welcomes the participants with a mocking flourish. Thom who were strapped onto a table with heavy objects over their heads.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Alright contestant number one, what is the mass of the Sun divided by Planck's constant in nanometers.

Contestant One: “HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT!?!?!”

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Unfortunately, that's not the correct answer. You’ll now be facing the consequences.” In a matter of seconds, the heavy object comes flying down with alarming speed. Upon impact, it mercilessly crushes against their skull, unleashing an overwhelming and unimaginable force that distorts bone and flesh. Yandere! Game Show Host then makes his way towards you and begins to speak.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Alright, it's your turn now. No pressure, I know you’ll do great just take your time. Okay what’s 1 + 1?”

You: “2.”

Yandere! Game Show Host: "Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it."

Other Contestants: “What the hell!?!? How is this fair!?!!

[meowzfordayz]

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Author’s Note: pls and ty enjoy this tidbit of crack-fluff. 😆💖

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,600

CW: explicit language, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: Can we get all hashira accidently touch y/n's breast

~faqs~

Fyi, “chest” means boob. I was just worried Tumblr would block this post from tags if I included “boob” in the title lmao. 😉

Shocked 😳😖

“I apologize, [y/n]-san, it won’t happen again!”

Gyomei’s nearly in tears, he feels so terribly 😞

“These things happen!” you promptly assure him, “Besides, you technically won the bout.”

No need to mention that he always wins when training together 🥲

“I cannot accept such a tainted victory.”

“Himejima-san, though I appreciate your concern and respect, there’s truly no issue.”

Meanwhile, Gyomei’s rethinking his entire Breathing Style to ensure he never accidentally touches anyone’s boob(s) again 💀 

In cold disbelief 😐😐😐

If you don’t say anything, then he won’t say anything

Alternatively, if you do say something, then Obanai will immediately curl up into a ball and die

Spends the rest of his day recalling the fleeting warmth of your breast

He swears his hand doesn’t even get cold, so affected by the heat of your bosom

Your boob must be ✨magical✨

“Iguro-san,” you call out gently, noting his dazed stare, his dinner untouched while he sits crossed legged, “Is something on your mind?”

“No.” 😐😐😐

Well okay then 🙃

“About what happened earlier…”

🫨🫨🫨 <— Obanai is FREAKING OUT

“… Iguro-san, I didn’t mind.”

And then you stand up, take your dishes, and leave

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEEEAAAN?!?!?!

Good luck finding Obanai tomorrow 🫡 (the poor man’s been pleasantly overwhelmed)

He’ll avoid you for eternity now 😌 (not really, but at least until he can breathe around you again)

She giggles 🤭

Lol

“Oh my! [y/n]-san, I didn’t mean to touch you so intimately!” 😅

“No worries, it happens.”

Your face may or may not be burning up a storm, but that’s okay!

Mitsuri’s blushing too

A lot 😳

“I hope I didn’t hurt you?!”

Because like, What if I gripped too hard?! 😭

She’s well aware of her own strength

“You barely brushed me, Kanroji-san. I promise!”

Phew!

She grins, relief evident as she bumps her elbow against yours

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? I would be so embarrassed!!!”

“Kanroji-san, our secret is safe with me.”

I wish it would happen again… <— lowkey both of you thinking the same thing 🤪

As a medical personnel (among other roles), Shinobu accidentally (or even on purpose, depending on where you’re wounded) touching your boob isn’t entirely unreasonable nor unrealistic

Obviously it would be nicer if she was caressing you out of love and affection 😔

And not methodically cleansing then bandaging claw marks that just so happened to cross over your chest 😒

“You should make a full recovery,” she’s all business, “The demon avoided your nipple and didn’t puncture deep enough to affect the functionality of your breast,” fortunately, you’re too exhausted to be embarrassed by her bluntness, “It has a nice shape. I’m glad you survived.”

EXCUSE ME WHAT?!?!?! 😃🫠

Now you’re kinda embarrassed

More so preening, really 🤭

It’s like when a doctor randomly compliments the rhythm of your heart or some other characteristic from a mainly professional POV, but you’re still caught off guard because who tf compliments someone’s kidneys or bowels movements or?????

In your pain hazed delusion, you briefly contemplate somehow getting your other boob injured too… gotta make sure you’re matching in (nice) shape, y’know? 😌

Kyojuro can be discreet, albeit more so for your sake than his

“I APOLOGIZE! I DID NOT MEAN TO TOUCH YOUR BREAST!” <— how he could react 💀

“Pardon my slip, are you okay?” <— how he actually reacts, because he isn’t entirely lacking in social awareness and decorum 😆

“Oh,” you don’t mean to squeak, but it can’t be helped when the most handsome man you’ve ever known just casually grazed your boob, “I’m fine! Totally fine! Haha!” 🫨😵‍💫🫠

You’ve gotta be more convincing than that, or Kyojuro will never forgive himself 😕

He’s a lil oblivious when it comes to physical attraction

Not like, infantly so, but given this particular circumstance?

He doesn’t realize you’re flustered; he assumes you’re mortified 😖

“You sound decidedly less than fine.”

He’s softer now, worried about startling you 🥺

“I was surprised! But don’t worry! I’m not worried!”

Okaaay, but he’s worried 🥲

“Is there any way I could make amends for my indiscretion?”

Not only is he handsome, but he is such a gentleman 😭😍

“Rengoku-san, there are no amends to be made, I promise. I’m not mad, nor do I feel unhappy or unsafe. I forgive you.”

Your regaining of the ability to speak in complete sentences greatly reassures him 😮‍💨😁

“Ah. Well. I am grateful for your kindness and understanding. It will not happen again.”

…

…

Hold up 🧐

Why does she seem… she seems… disappointed? Should I have said it will happen again??

You’ve suddenly given Kyojuro something quite pleasant to ponder 🤔

After all, he isn’t entirely oblivious 😉

“Are you going to apologize?” Sanemi demands

“For what?” you screech

“For touching my hand with your boob!”

Your eyes roll, “Oh fuck off!”

“I didn’t ask to touch you,” he grunts

“I wouldn’t have given you permission anyway,” you retort 😒

Arms crossing over his bare chest, Sanemi scoffs, “Well I didn’t give mine either!”

“You’re ridiculous. It was an accident.”

You seem genuinely pissed 😬

Sanemi rethinks his approach

“You know I’m joking, right?” 😅

“Nooo,” your sarcasm cuts deep, “I thought you were flirting.” 😐

Uh 😀

Well 😃

Shit 😄

“Fuck you!” 

When in doubt, curse ‘em out 💀

You scowl, confusion lingering as your blood boils, “Fuck you!”

“I said it first.” 🙄

You stalk away, fed up with his antics

#man child #sort of #romantically inept is more like it

As tends to happen with epiphanies, yours doesn’t hit until you’re almost asleep

“WAS THAT MOTHERFUCKER FLIRTING WITH ME???!” 😳🥴😭

Best believe Shinazugawa Sanemi is about to have a Lesson 101 in flirting asap 😤😎

(assuming you’re older, like, mentor age to Muichiro)

Neither of you make a fuss about it

It’s like accidentally calling your teacher mom 😬

Or grabbing a random person’s hand in the supermarket thinking they’re your parent 🫣

Embarrassing, but not a huge deal — unless you make it one

There’re those three seconds of slow motion Uhh and What just happened and Oops 🫠

And then time speeds up to normal again, you have a quick conversation with your eyes (gosh forbid you speak and bring the unspoken into reality 💀), and it’s over

^^ Alternatively, if Muichiro initiates a conversation to clear the air, then you’re able to have a mature and concise chat that is respectfully and patiently resolved

Embarrassing/accidental encounters are part of growing up

As long as they can be navigated ~safely, there shouldn’t be any lasting harm

⚠️I also want to emphasize that I am talking solely on inarguably accidental/one time incidences⚠️

Hehehe

Giyuu’s hand is stuck 🫣

Only for like, a fleeting second

But omg 😭

He was already embarrassed, and now he’s triply embarrassed 🫠🫠🫠

“... Tomioka-san?”

You won’t lie; you aren’t especially bothered 🤭

But it is a compromising position to be caught in; Giyuu lowkey crushing you, one of his palms clearly cupping your boob 😬

#wrestling #or something #so maybe this isn’t super realistic #forgive me

You’re about to repeat his name when he finally springs to life, immediately rolling off you, standing abruptly, about to literally sprint away

And then he remembers his manners 🙃

He offers you a hand

His other hand; his boob hand is currently tucked away in his haori

He’s never washing it again

#closet perv

“Thanks,” you smile faintly, accepting his assistance as you lift yourself from the ground

You hope he can’t hear your heartbeat 💓

He definitely can 😶

But can you hear his?

“I don’t think we should train together anymore.”

Giyuu is swift and harsh with his solutions

“Why?”

Your question comes out stiffer than intended

He hesitates, unable to interpret the fear in your tone — the longing

“I always beat you,” he explains lamely, “Don’t you get tired of losing?”

You scoff cheerfully, grinning now as you squeeze his hand

Fuck, we were still holding hands?! <— Giyuu is in shambles 😳

“I could never lose!” you declare, feelings brimming in your throat, spilling onto your tongue, “Not when I’m with you.”

Then we should absolutely stop training together would be the responsible reaction

Attachments are the most dangerous game for a Hashira to play 😕

Instead, Giyuu’s rendered speechless, unable to shake his hand from yours

“Well alright then,” he mutters, stomach churning as he narrowly avoids the warmth in your gaze

In fact, you swear he squeezes back 💓

“EXCUSE ME! I HAVE A WIFE!” 😤😤😤

“You have three wives.” 🙄

Sputtering, Tengen shrieks, “I already have plenty of breasts to touch!” 

“Tengen,” you glare, not one to back down as you jab a finger into his own chest, “You touched my boob.” 😒

“AND I’M SORRY!” 😭

Much better 😌

“I don’t know what they see in you,” you scoff (you’re also lying, you can see plenty🤭), “They’re gorgeous… and you freak out when you accidentally touch a boob.” 💀

Tengen is 100% pouting now

“I don’t freak out when I touch their boobs,” he huffs

“Well aren’t they lucky.” 😐

“You could be lucky too!”

…

…

Tengen starts running 

You give chase

“DID YOU TALK TO THEM ABOUT THIS?” 

Tengen runs faster

“TENGEN!!!!!”

Tengen runs faster and faster

You give up

*insert gasping for air here*

“DO YOUR WIVES KNOW THEY’RE MARRIED TO A COWARD???!!!”

Oh well, you’ll have to visit their estate sometime this week 🙃

You’re sure to get an answer from Hina, Makio, and Suma ☺️

And you can’t wait to see more of Tengen 😏😋

Sorry, sometimes the horny just happens 🥴

[buckyalpine]

40's baby Bucky & baby Reader, Present Bucky x Reader, all the flufff, a lil angst but it just adds to the fluff, promise

Bucky sat under the tree with a very prominent pout on his chubby face, his arms crossed against his chest with his brows pulled together. He wasn't happy. Not one bit. Not after his favorite ball was kicked over a fence by the other neighborhood boys.

"Bucky, do you want to play with me?" You toddled over to your best friend hoping to lift his spirits after seeing him so grumpy only to be met with a huff.

"No! Go play with Stevie instead. Leave me alone!" He frowned, brushing you off and turning his back at you to sulk facing the tree instead.

"But-

"I don't want to play with you" Bucky grumbled. Your bottom lip wobbled, dropping your shoulders as you walked off and sat by yourself under some shade on your porch. You didn't have many friends being the youngest and only little girl on your street; Bucky and Steve being the only two who included you in their games.

"Bucky's mean" You picked up one of your dolls, setting her up beside you while you toyed with a wild flowers, doing your best to keep from sniffling after he shooed you away. You knew he was upset but you wanted to make him feel better!

Of course it didn't take long for Bucky to feel bad, peeking over to see your fallen face sitting all alone on the steps of your house, eyes wet with tears which you were desperately blinking back. He got a bad feeling in his little pudgy belly, knowing he wasn't very nice to you. He knew his ma wouldn't be very happy if she heard how he'd spoken to you, especially after you were just trying to brighten his mood. He got up from his place on the grass, nicking a few flowers from his garden before shuffling over to you only to be met with your now grumpy face, crossing your arms and turning away just like he did.

"I'm sorry y/n" Bucky came and plopped beside you, moving the doll away, while clutching onto a few pink tulips. You didn't respond, still mad at him for being mean to you when you'd done nothing wrong. "C'mon jellybean, pwease?"

His baby blues were shining bright as he gave you his best puppy eyes, hoping you'd forgive him. You felt a giddy at the name he called you, one he'd given you because he thought you were sweet like one. You turned to face him while he gave you a shy little smile, placing the flowers onto your lap.

"I brought you flowers" He stated proudly, happy at the giggle you let out, setting them aside before tugging at his hand to run off and play.

-

"Y'promise you'll come back?" your eyes were wet with tears again although you were now 20 years older and the chubby boy you grew up with had grown into a very handsome soldier. He stood before you in his clean and pressed uniform, his face shaven, hair neatly cropped.

"Of course doll" He whispered affectionately, letting his thumbs swipe across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that fell. "I'll always come back to you jellybean"

"You better" You sniffled, standing on your toes to chase more of his lips as he pressed them to yours, his hands wrapping around your waist, picking you up with ease.

"M'gonna come right back to you, safe n'sound" He held you for as long as he could, rocking you close to his chest while you fought back a sob, giving him a brave smile instead.

"I love you Jamie"

"I love you jellybean"

That was the last time you saw him.

-

"This is a bad idea"

"When have I ever had a bad idea" Tony scoffed, continuing to tinker with his quantum portal while Bruce looked over numbers.

"It's not stable enough Tony, if we send someone through this, they could get stuck in an alternate timeline or we could end up changing the future-

"Yea, yea, stop worrying, hand me that spanner"

Bruce sighed, handing over the tool while contemplating on the safest way to test the machine. It wasn't ready to handle anyone actually travelling through time but at the very least they could potentially open portals to the past.

"We gotta put in a location to see if this works-how about-" Tony contemplated on a location, his eyes growing wide with excitement when he spotted Steve's diary that he'd left behind in the lab, "Let's see if Captain has any interesting places from the 40's"

"Why wouldn't you just see if we could get to the compound garden" Bruce groaned while Tony flipped through the pages, typing in an address that had been scribbled in. It was from a list of places Steve wanted to visit again from when he was a child, the address of the person listed under friends. There was only one other person listed there other than Bucky.

"Alright, call the others, let's see if this baby works"

"You're going to get us all killed" Bruce shook his head while calling for everyone to come to the lab. By now everyone was used to Tony's antics; the only one who was genuinely giddy with excitement was surprisingly Bucky. One thing he'd always loved was science; even his stoic expression couldn't hide the twinkle in his eye every time he got to see another Stark experiment.

"Glad you all made it. Now, thanks to Cap, we're going to see if we can open a portal that travels back to the 1940's. I suggest you all stand back since I haven't actually tested this before"

"Why are you like this" Nat snorted while Tony waved her off, pushing a few more buttons before hitting start. Bucky watched from the safe sidelines of the lab as the machine began to vibrate, a low buzz growing louder until a portal roared to life that lead to the inside of someone's home. Bucky and Steve were both stunned from shock seeing a flash of a very familiar living room for no longer than a second before the whole thing closed with a bang and a large puff of smoke in its place.

"Well done Mr. Playboy billionaire dumbass" Sam wheezed while the team was left coughing, the room cloudy as the loud buzz began to dull. "What was the location you even put in-

Sam stopped talking midway when he heard another voice coughing followed by mumbling coming from the place where the portal closed. The smoke hadn't yet dissipated but the shadow of a person was slowly becoming visible. Everyone froze when they realized there was someone on the platform, wondering who could've been sucked through.

"Bruce, turn on the fan-" Bruce hit the lab fan which pulled helped with the smoke revealing a young woman in a flower printed dress. An apron was still tied around her waist, flour streaked across her cheeks, a rolling pin still in her hand. "What the-

"JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES"

Bucky thought he was going to collapse as soon as he saw who was on the platform, his heart fluttering madly in his chest. He couldn't control the blush that crept up on his cheeks, butterflies bursting in his tummy, just as they did all those years ago. The young woman stormed up to the soldier, face full of fury as her palm smacked his cheek (Not hard enough to actually hurt him of course).

"HOW DARE YOU"

Everyone else in the lab silently congregated to one side watching curiously though Steve was still utterly frozen seeing-

"Y-y/n? Doll?"

"Don't you doll me" you whacked his arm with your rolling pin, huffing when it clanged back after hitting metal. That didn't seem to faze you as you switched and hit the other arm instead, making Bucky yelp. "You lied!"

You dropped your makeshift weapon to the floor, moving your hands to your hips instead, looking up and down at the man you loved with your entire heart, the man who you mourned for years after you were told he was dead. He looked much different from when you'd last seen him, the most obvious difference being an entirely new arm. His cheeks were scruffy and it was clear some form of time travel had taken place but none of that mattered. None of that mattered when the love of your life was standing right there, alive and well.

"Oh baby, no-

"Absolutely not Barnes" you huffed at the pet name he gave you, crossing your arms over your chest and Bucky thought he'd melt into an absolute puddle at the sight. He was thrown back to when you were both no more than 4 years old, with a cute little frown on your face whenever you'd get upset. "You left! I thought you-I thought you died!"

The sound of your voice cracking broke Bucky's heart, his hands itching to wrap you up and pull you close to his chest the way you loved. He could see your eyes twinkle with tears threatening to spill out while you rapidly tried to blink them away. You chewed on your bottom lip to keep from wobbling and it only made Bucky yearn to hold you and never let go.

"Sweetheart please, I didn't mean to leave you doll, I promise" He stepped closer to you, hesitantly reaching out to take your hand in his, not feeling the slightest bit conscious about his metal arm. The coolness of his hand calmed your racing heart while you sniffled, still refusing to meet his eyes as you stared down at your feet instead.

The day you'd been told he'd never come back had been the worst day of your life. You wept for months on end, losing the man you were waiting to marry. The only person you'd been in love with since you were 4 years old.

Seeing you standing there before him stirred feelings in Bucky h never thought he'd feel again. Having a home. A beautiful wife. Little chubby babies. All with his dream girl he'd loved all his life. There wasn't a day that had gone by where he didn't think about her. He didn't think he'd ever get the chance again but here you were, dusted in flour like you always were whenever you were in the kitchen, in a pretty dress he loved so much, fighting your cries after desperately missing him. He softly cupped your cheeks, swiping away at your tears, his forehead coming down to softly rest against yours. He smiled through watery eyes at your stubborn nature, still keeping your arms crossed while his nose bumped with yours.

"Jellybean" Bucky whispered, your heart melting at the name, swallowing the lump in your throat, "Please? I-I'll- I'll bring you flowers" He said with a shaky voice, nearly toppling over when you flung yourself into his arms. He caught you, squeezing you right back and lifting you off the floor to cradle you nice and tight before pulling back to smash his lips against yours. The collective sniffles and whistles from the team were drowned out by your soft giggles and warm lips.

"I missed you so much" you buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the one that comforted yo the most.

"You have no idea how much I missed you jellybean, never letting you go again"

"Terminator, you wanna introduce us?" Tony was the first to speak up, not so subtly wiping away at his eyes while Bucky continued to look at you with heard eyes, introducing you to everyone. You could only wrap your head around so much at a time but nothing truly mattered now that you were back with your soldier.

And of course your other best friend.

"Steve" You giggled as Steve lifted you up with ease into a tight hug, grinning at his two friends finally getting the life they deserved together.

Seriously imagine how sickeningly cute these two would be. Bucky is so excited to teach you all about the future. He gets to show you how to use all the new technology around the compound. He's so naughty about it too, teasingly telling you he'd be happy to help you in the shower if there's any questions you has about water temperature.

He doesn't waste any time with asking to marry you. Its everything you've ever dreamed of and more considering Tony took the bill and ran. Bucky can't put into words how happy he is finally getting the life he thought was ripped from his hands.

On your wedding night, Bucky spends hours loving on you like there's no tomorrow which is why a few months later, your belly is swollen with your first baby. Bucky is thankful for the future because as excited as he is to start a family, he's scared shitless something could happen to his jellybean.

"Bucky, I'm fine-

"Absolutely not, why are you up Jellybean, go sit down, I'll bring breakfast to you"

"I can still walk y'know-

"Nope. You stay right there, don't move mama, just rest"

When you do have to move around, he's there holding your baby bump, feeling giddy over becoming a dad. He can't wait to meet his little baby that he's made with his dream girl.

After his son is born, he waits for your body to heal but no ones surprised to see you with a new bump not too long after.

Two baby boys are no match for all the avengers but they all happily share their god father and god mother duties.

Your third is a little girl and she's going to be spoiled by everyone.

Somewhere along the way, you get a white fluffy cat.

Bucky's life has never been better.

[delulustateofmind]

Can My Friend Join?

Your boyfriend wants his murderer of a best friend to join your relationship. You'll do that for him, right?

Yan!SatoSugu x Reader

Part two

TW: Yandere Behaviors, dubcon/noncon?, Manipulation, SatoSugu, Potential grammatical/spelling errors, oral/fingering (f! receiving), Trapping/love bombing. MDNI

WC: 5.2k

You see, it wasn’t totally unlike your boyfriend to make crazy decisions.

Satoru was rash, impulsive, yet completely and utterly in love with you in a way that made it hard to say no to him. And he always knew how to work that to his advantage. You’d let him get away with just about anything—like buying a penthouse in Shibuya without even stepping foot in it, or whisking you off on spontaneous trips for “work” that had your boss threatening to fire you every time you gave him a last-minute call about your absence.

Crazy decisions were his specialty, after all. Including the craziest one of all: dating you, a non sorcerer, that was not a well-kept secret from his clan.

And now, his most recent decision was leaving you staring at him in stunned disbelief.

“Come on, baby, he’s going to therapy,” Satoru murmured into your ear, his arms snug around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. His voice was soft, almost coaxing, as he peppered gentle kisses along the curve of your neck. “You remember Sugu, right? You even mentioned you had a little crush on him before we started dating.”

Suguru Geto. The man who’d slaughtered a village, started a cult, and declared genocide on nonsorcerers like you.

But now, according to Satoru, he was “better.” Redeemed, even. Whatever that meant. He wasn’t a deranged cult leader anymore, apparently. Therapy had fixed him. Or at least, that’s what Satoru was claiming with his usual breezy confidence.

“My love,” you began softly, setting the tea you’d been preparing down to turn and face him. His cerulean eyes shone with that familiar affection, the corners crinkling slightly as he gazed down at you like you hung the moon. It made your chest ache. “I know you two… had a thing. But why does he need to be a part of our relationship?”

You tried to keep your tone gentle, like you were trying to reason with him. Because, honestly, you were.

Satoru tilted his head, his grin widening just enough to tell you he’d been prepared for this question. “Mmm, well,” he started, the teasing lilt of his voice softening. “You were there for me, weren’t you? You’ve kept me grounded—saved me, even.” He leaned in to nuzzle against your cheek. “I figured… maybe you could do the same for him. Help him down a better path, you know? Keep an eye on him.”

Your heart sank.

“And,” he added with a sheepish laugh, his blush deepening as his hand rubbed the back of his neck, “well, he was actually the one who suggested it.”

That had your stomach twisting uncomfortably. You searched his face for answers, for some sign that this wasn’t as serious as it sounded. But all you found was that lovesick smile of his.

And you knew.

Satoru still had feelings for Suguru. He’d never said it outright, but the signs were there. The way his voice softened when he spoke of him. The wistful, almost mournful glint in his eyes whenever Suguru’s name came up. And, of course, the times he’d accidentally murmured Suguru’s name in moments of intimacy with you.

Your throat felt tight.

“Satoru…” You struggled to find the words, to balance the storm of emotions swirling in your chest. Jealousy. Confusion. Heartbreak. And, strangely enough, pity.

“It won’t change anything between us,” he said quickly, like he could see your doubts forming. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing soothingly against your skin. “I promise. You’re my person—my love. I just… I can’t let him go again. Not like before.”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “And what if I can’t do this? What if I can’t… share you?”

Satoru’s expression softened, his usual playful confidence replaced with something raw and pleading. “Please,” he murmured, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. It wasn’t like him to plead. To beg. “Just think about it, okay? You won’t be home alone as much anymore when I’m out on missions. With Suguru back, there’ll be two strongest sorcerers. That means I won’t have to work or be on call as much. I’m thinking about us, baby.”

His words were so earnest, so filled with affection, that they pressed against your chest like a weight. You should’ve voiced your opinions, should’ve argued, but the guilt crept in before you could. Satoru had done so much for you—letting you live with him rent-free, covering your schooling, and showering you with a kind of love that had felt impossible in a world where you were so much weaker than him.

How could you say no to him? Not after everything.

So, what if you were allowing some murderer into your relationship? Satoru said he was better now. Satoru loved you. He wouldn’t steer you wrong… right?

You bit your lip, glancing away before nodding hesitantly. “Can we… take things slow, Toru?” Your voice was soft, almost unsure, as you sheepishly met his gaze.

Satoru’s face lit up with relief, his cerulean eyes shining so brightly it was almost blinding. “Oh, of course, baby. As slow as you need to. I know I can be a bit… eager, heh,” he said with a nervous laugh, his hands cupping your cheeks tenderly. Then, with a playful grin, he squished them together, molding your lips into silly fishy shapes.

“There it is! Cute as ever,” he teased, leaning closer, his voice softer now. “But I still love you. You know that, right?”

You nodded automatically, leaning into his touch despite the unease swirling in your stomach. Perhaps, you were overthinking this. Relationships need a bit of spice, right?

“I know,” you murmured, forcing a small smile. “I love you too.”

The words almost came automatically, yet your anxiety continued to ring alarming bells.

He grinned, his usual teasing confidence returning as he kissed your forehead. “That’s my baby. I knew you’d understand.”

And so, within a week, Suguru Geto moved in.

It was awkward at first. You weren’t sure how to act around him—this man who carried a dark, complicated history yet exuded a calm, almost disarming aura. Offering shy smiles felt like the extent of your bravery, and more often than not, you retreated to the sanctuary of your bedroom.

At least Suguru had the decency to move into the guest room initially. That small gesture was a relief in itself. And thankfully, with Satoru and Suguru being sorcerers, you were rarely alone with him. At least not yet.

But Suguru was... considerate. You couldn’t deny that. He had a quiet, almost effortless charm, and while you had your issues—big issues—you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was a handsome, beautiful man.

“Ah, do you need help?” Suguru asked one day, his deep voice breaking the silence as he spotted you reaching for the Christmas decorations tucked away on the highest shelf of the closet.

You froze for a moment, clutching at the edge of the shelf. “No, I’ll be alright… thank you,” you murmured, your voice almost too shy.

Suguru tilted his head, his dark eyes softening as he took a step closer. “It’s no trouble. Here.” Without waiting for permission, he reached up effortlessly, his height making quick work of retrieving the box.

You thanked him quietly, clutching the box as you avoided his gaze. His lips quirked into a faint smile, but he said nothing, stepping back to give you space.

Then there were the times he helped without hesitation, like during grocery trips.

Satoru would inevitably dart off down the aisles, hunting for sweets or whatever caught his attention. Suguru, on the other hand, stuck to your side, the picture of calm efficiency. He’d scan the list you held, nodding thoughtfully before reaching for items on the shelves—always grabbing your favorite brands without you needing to say a word.

“You cook often, don’t you?” he remarked once, glancing at the cart as he placed a box of your preferred pasta into it.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied, startled by how observant he was. “It’s… kind of relaxing.”

He hummed in agreement, his expression neutral but not unkind. “I can see that. I’ll have to try some of your cooking sometime.”

The comment left you flustered, unsure how to respond. Satoru would’ve teased you mercilessly, but Suguru simply kept moving, scanning the shelves like he wasn’t even aware of the small storm brewing in your chest.

It was moments like these—small, thoughtful gestures and quiet interactions—that left you unsettled. Suguru wasn’t what you expected. You’d braced yourself for someone dangerous, cold, someone you couldn’t trust. But instead, he was... kind. Maybe too kind.

And that was what unnerved you the most.

Because every time you caught his lingering gaze or noticed the way he seemed to effortlessly fit into your routines, you couldn’t help but wonder: Was he doing this for Satoru? Or was he doing it for you?

It started off slow. Like a light sprinkle before the storm. 

Satoru was still the same as ever—the fun-loving boyfriend, full of laughter and mischief. He’d press kisses to your cheek, wrap you in his arms, and tease you in that playful way that made your heart flutter. But lately, his words carried a strange edge, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Maybe start showing Sugu a bit of love,” he teased one evening, nuzzling against your neck as you brushed your teeth. “He’s trying, y’know. Don’t be difficult, baby.”

You froze for a moment, the brush stilling in your hand as you quickly spit out the toothpaste. That… hurt. His tone was light, but the implication stung. Was he disappointed in you?

Still, you managed a tight smile and nodded, swallowing your unease. “I’ll try.”

Satoru grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “That’s my baby.”

But then Suguru began to be more… involved.

It wasn’t anything overt at first. He’d sit quietly in the living room while you watched TV, occasionally commenting on the plot like a polite guest. Not as the boyfriend he was supposed to be, that you didn’t want him to be. He’d help with household chores without being asked, his quiet competence a stark contrast to Satoru’s chaotic energy.

But there was something about the way his presence lingered—like a shadow stretching further than it should.

“Tired?” he asked one evening, his voice like honey as you struggled to keep your eyes open on the couch. You felt him sit down beside you, close enough that his warmth seeped into your side.

You nodded, your words slurring slightly. “Yeah… long day.”

Suguru reached out, his fingers brushing against your temple as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was gentle, almost tender, but his dark eyes… they hid something.

“You should rest more,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Satoru worries about you.”

You blinked, struggling to process his words. “He does?”

Suguru smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course. We both do.”

The way he said it—we—sent a strange chill down your spine.

As the days passed, the small, unsettling moments began to pile up.

Suguru had a way of always being there, always watching. When you left a room, you’d turn to find his gaze following you. When you spoke, he listened so intently it felt like he was dissecting your every word.

And Satoru, who’d always been possessive in his teasing way, started pushing boundaries in ways he hadn’t before.

One evening, as you tried to excuse yourself to your bedroom after dinner, Satoru caught your wrist, pulling you back to the living room where Suguru sat quietly.

“Don’t run off so quick,” he said, his grin wide but his grip firm. “We’re a family now, aren’t we? Stay with us for a bit.”

Suguru looked up from his tea, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Satoru’s right,” he said softly, his lips curving into a small, almost inviting smile. “It’s nice when we’re all together.”

The way they looked at you—Satoru’s bright gaze brimming with love, Suguru’s dark eyes filled with something deeper, darker—made you feel trapped.

And then, Satoru had to leave.

He was off to Kenya for a mission with a student, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the apartment felt… quieter. You’d thought, perhaps foolishly, that Suguru would be sent off somewhere too, leaving you to breathe for a moment, to process.

But no.

Suguru stayed.

The first few nights felt strange, the absence of Satoru’s boundless energy a sharp contrast to Suguru’s quiet, deliberate presence. He wasn’t pushy—if anything, he gave you more space than usual, offering soft smiles and polite conversation. But there was always something in the air, something unspoken, something that made the silence between you feel heavier than it should.

And then, one night, as you lay in what felt like a bed too big without Satoru’s warmth beside you, you felt it—a hand wrapping around your waist, firm yet gentle, pulling you back against a solid chest.

Your breath hitched as a woodsy, earthy scent filled your nose, inky dark hair brushing against your shoulders.

Your heart sank once again, something it’s been doing a little too much as of late. 

“You’re awake,” Suguru murmured softly, his voice warm and low, like he’d been waiting for you to notice. His lips ghosted against your cheek in a feather-light kiss, making your skin prickle. “Satoru said I should join you. Keep you safe.”

Safe? The word felt foreign, almost cruel, as if it was meant to comfort you when it did the exact opposite.

“Suguru,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to pull away, but his arm around your waist tightened, holding you in place.

“Shh,” he soothed, his breath warm against your ear. “It’s okay. I know it feels strange, but Satoru trusts me to look after you. He said you get lonely when he’s away.”

Your stomach twisted. This wasn’t Satoru’s doing—at least, not entirely. This was Suguru, using Satoru’s words, his trust, to inch closer, to blur the lines you’d been desperately trying to hold onto.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His hand moved, sliding up to rest lightly against your ribs, his touch slow and deliberate. “I want to,” he murmured. “You deserve someone to care for you, even when Satoru can’t. That’s what we agreed on, isn’t it?”

You froze. Agreed on?

The realization hit you like a wave, cold and suffocating. This wasn’t just Satoru’s idea. This wasn’t just about keeping you “safe” or “happy.” This was part of something bigger, something the two of them had decided for you, without you.

“I don’t think—” you started, but Suguru cut you off, his voice still maddeningly calm.

“You don’t have to think,” he said softly, almost kindly, as his fingers brushed against your jaw, tilting your head slightly so he could press a kiss to your temple. “Just go to sleep, yeah?”

But the way his grip on you remained firm, the way his body pressed so closely against yours, made it abundantly clear that this wasn’t a request.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic rhythm that you were sure he could feel where his arm wrapped around your waist. Go to sleep? How could you possibly sleep with this man lying so close, his breath steady against the back of your neck, his warmth invading every inch of your space?

Suguru shifted slightly, his arm pulling you tighter against him as though sensing your discomfort. “You’re tense,” he murmured, his tone carrying a strange gentleness. “It’s okay to relax. I’m here.”

His words sent shivers down your body and tendrils of anxiety in your mind, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to calm down. But how could you relax when your instincts screamed that something was wrong? That something about him, about this situation, was profoundly off?

You tried to focus on your breathing, hoping it would drown out the sound of your racing thoughts. But every inhale carried the faint, woodsy scent of him—so different from Satoru’s familiar, comforting smell. It was calming, yet suffocating all at once.

A small voice crept in your mind, you shouldn’t feel calm. 

Suguru hummed softly, a low, melodic sound that sent another wave of unease through you. “You smell nice,” he said, almost absentmindedly. His nose brushed against your hair, and you froze as he inhaled deeply. “Like home.”

The words were meant to be reassuring, you thought. But they felt wrong, invasive, like he was claiming a piece of you that wasn’t his to take.

You wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat. And in that silence, Suguru’s hand shifted, moving from your ribs to rest lightly against your stomach, the weight of it grounding and possessive.

“You’re safe with me,” he whispered, his voice softer now, almost tender. Almost loving. “I’ll keep you safe. Just sleep, okay?”

Your throat tightened, and your breathing came faster as you tried to steady yourself. Safe. He kept using that word, as though repeating it would make it true. As if he were tricking your mind into thinking it was true. 

But how could you feel safe when every instinct in your body screamed at you to run?

Suguru’s grip didn’t waver, and the steady rhythm of his breathing filled the silence, lulling you into a state of uneasy stillness. You didn’t know how long you lay there, rigid and wide-eyed, before exhaustion began to weigh on you.

Your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. Slowly, reluctantly, your eyes fluttered shut, and your breathing evened out.

You stirred awake to a sensation so surreal, so tender, that in your dreamlike haze, you convinced yourself it was Satoru.

The soft brush of hair between your thighs, a large, calloused hand rested on the fat of your thighs, keeping your legs open, as your eyes were slowly opening from sleep. 

You felt his tongue drift up you sopping slit, moving to circle around your bundle of nerves, a whine escaping your lips as you shifted a little only for a warm hand to press against your abdomen to keep you from moving as he continued to dive deep into your cunt, his tongue switching from spelling a name on your sensitive clit to fucking your tight dripping heat. You couldn’t help but muffle your moans by biting the sheets. 

“Toru…” You whimpered out in pathetic small breaths. “Feels…s’good” it wasn’t like Satoru to be this in-depth with eating you out. It felt like he was mapping out your entire insides as he slowly inserted a finger into your dripping mess. 

You felt a nip on your inner thigh, causing a whine and for you to finally open your eyes. 

“Wrong boyfriend,” Suguru murmured, his voice a low, velvety hum that sent a shiver rippling down your spine. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement as he hovered just above your pussy that clenched around his fat finger that curled in just the right spot, your gummy walls clenching, no, greedily sucking in. His lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk. 

He tilted his head, his inky hair brushing against your trembling thighs as he leaned back down, his movements deliberate, controlled, as though savoring every moment of your reaction. His breath ghosted over your poor pussy, slowly licking up the mess you were leaking as he pushed his finger knuckle deep inside you, before slowly, teasingly adding another one of his thick fingers inside. Compared to Satoru’s thin long fingers, his was different, it was almost mind-numbing as your poor cunny tightened at the sudden intrusion of another finger.  

“Suguru” You panted out. “I-” and a gasp left your lips as you felt him curl both his fingers. Hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, no colors, all sorts of stars and colors, as he pried you open. Your mouth left agape as you tried to think of anything besides the pleasure and the sickening wet sounds that were filling the bedroom. 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. You mind sang to you. But god, did it feel so good. 

“Mmmm, such a sweet pussy” he said softly before lightly sucking on your nub, earning sweet moans and whispers from your lips “Want me to stop, pretty?”  he said softly as he released your poor abused little clit with a loud pop. Offering a small kitten lick as you were trying to form a coherent sentence. 

“Come on, baby girl, use your words f’me.” His fingers slipping out of your slickened folds that caused you to look down at him with half-lidded eyes and a pout. You were so fucked.  

“You need me don’t you? Need me to help you?” He said softly as he pulled away, his big warm hand cupping your heat as you bucked your hips, his thumb lightly grazing your clit, toying with it softly. His chin glistened with your juices as he moved close to your face. 

It didn’t help that he was so devastatingly attractive—so effortlessly pretty, yet undeniably handsome. Every sharp line of his jaw, every curve of his lips, and the way his dark eyes seemed to pierce straight through you made it impossible to look away, even when you wanted to. Even when you knew you should.

“Give me a kiss, just one little kiss, and then I’ll let you cum. Okay, pretty?” Suguru hummed softly, his gaze lingering on your plump, red lips, his voice almost syrupy in its coaxing. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in the teary-eyed expression you offered him. “Can you do that for me?”

You wanted to fight him. Wanted to kick him off, shove him away, bite that insufferable smirk right off his face.

But he made you feel so good.

You were warm, fuzzy, and completely disconnected from yourself. Every logical thought dissolved into the haze of pleasure he’d wrapped you in. Your body betrayed you, nodding mindlessly like some desperate, needy thing you hardly recognized.

“One kiss?” you murmured meekly, your voice trembling.

Suguru’s grin widened, predatory and oh-so smug. “Just one,” he purred, watching as your eyes flickered away from him.

That’s when you saw it.

The camera.

Nestled discreetly in the corner of the room, its cold, unblinking lens stared back at you. Your stomach dropped, the haze clearing just enough for panic to creep in.

Suguru followed your gaze, and when he saw what had caught your attention, he chuckled—a low, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Oh,” he said smoothly, as though you’d stumbled upon a delightful surprise. “You found the camera.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours, his voice a whisper now. “Say hi to Toru.”

Before you could react, his lips crashed against yours, the kiss fierce and consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle—it was possessive, demanding, a declaration that left no room for resistance. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue brushed against yours, coaxing a response you couldn’t deny.

Every fleeting thought of resistance melted under the heat of his touch, leaving you utterly at his mercy, the world narrowing to the overwhelming intensity of him.

That fuzzy, dreamlike feeling reeled in your mind, spinning you further into a haze. The high you were on didn’t feel natural—it was too consuming, too overwhelming. Even after you came for the nth time, your body still burned with need, craving more despite the exhaustion creeping into your limbs.

You glanced at Suguru through the haze, his expression soft, almost tender, as he leaned down to scoop you into his arms. His strength was effortless, and the gentle smile that tugged at his lips felt entirely out of place with the aching mess he’d left you in.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he hummed softly, cradling you as though you weighed nothing.

Your body refused to cooperate, too spent and trembling to do anything but lay limply in his embrace. Resigning yourself to your inability to fight, you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek. It was almost comforting if not for the gnawing unease beneath the surface of your mind.

As he carried you to the bathroom, his voice broke the silence, low and soothing. “Satoru’s coming home today,” he said, his tone so calm, so casual, that it sent a chill down your spine. “He’s going to be so proud of the progress we made, yeah?”

The words hung in the air, their weight suffocating.

The day stretched on in a blur, and though Suguru remained by your side, tending to you with a gentleness that felt far too intimate, you couldn’t shake the words he’d spoken.

Satoru’s coming home today. He’s going to be so proud of the progress we made.

Each passing moment only tightened the knot in your stomach, the uneasy anticipation building to a crescendo by the time the front door opened with Satoru’s familiar sing-song call.

“My sweet sugar bears, I’m home!”

His voice echoed through the apartment, bright and teasing as always, but it carried a weight that hadn’t been there before. You stiffened, clutching the edges of the blanket Suguru had wrapped around you as you sat on the couch, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suguru, seated beside you with a calm, almost serene expression, stood and moved to greet him. “Welcome back,” he said, his tone warm and inviting.

Satoru appeared moments later, his bright cerulean eyes sweeping over the room before landing on you. His grin widened, mischievous and utterly unapologetic.

“There’s my girl,” he said, striding over and crouching in front of you. His hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. “Missed you.”

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say as his gaze lingered on you, almost too intently.

Then he turned his attention to Suguru, who was now leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched the interaction unfold.

“And you,” Satoru said, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “You really outdid yourself this time, Sugu.”

Suguru inclined his head slightly, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m glad you think so. She was… responsive.”

Your stomach twisted at the way they spoke, as if you weren’t even there—or worse, as if you were some sort of project they’d been collaborating on.

Satoru’s attention flicked back to you, and his grin softened into something almost affectionate. “I loved the video,” he said, his voice low as he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “You looked so perfect for him, baby. It made me jealous.”

Your blood ran cold.

“The—video?” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling as your mind raced to catch up.

Satoru tilted his head, his grin widening again as he straightened. “Oh, come on, don’t play coy now,” he teased, reaching out to ruffle your hair like you were some pet he was fond of. “You knew about the camera, didn’t you? Suguru said you even looked right at it.”

Suguru’s chuckle was low, almost inaudible, but it caused your chest to tighten. Throat to clench up, you suddenly wanted to cry. 

“We’ll have to make more next time,” Satoru continued, his tone light, almost playful, like he was discussing something as mundane as dinner plans. His grin stretched wide, carefree, but his words carried a weight that left your chest tight. “But don’t worry—I’ll be in the next one. No way I’m missing out again.”

The floor beneath you might as well have disappeared. The weight of their words pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating, and your heart hammered as panic welled in your chest.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling. “No, this isn’t… This isn’t right. You can’t just—”

Suguru stepped forward, his movements unhurried, deliberate. His dark eyes locked onto yours, unreadable yet brimming with a quiet intensity that made your skin prickle. He stopped just behind Satoru, his presence looming, steady.

“We’re a team, after all,” he said softly, his voice smooth and calm, like he was explaining something obvious. “It’s only fair we share.”

“No,” you said again, louder this time. The word came out sharp, cutting through the air like a blade, though your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists. “This isn’t fair. This isn’t normal, Satoru, Suguru—this isn’t love.”

For a moment, the room seemed to freeze, the weight of your words hanging in the tense silence.

Suguru’s lips curled into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Is that what you think?” he asked, his tone soft, almost disappointed. He tilted his head slightly, his dark hair spilling over his shoulder as he regarded you with something akin to pity. “You think this isn’t love?”

“Yes,” you said, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your confidence. “This isn’t right. You’re asking too much—this isn’t something I can give.”

Suguru took another step closer, his gaze unwavering. “And what do you think love is, then?” he asked, his voice low, coaxing. “Is it not trust? Devotion? Sacrifice?” He leaned in slightly, his presence suffocating as his words wrapped around you like a vice. “After everything Satoru and I have done for you, everything we’ve given you as of late—are you really saying we don’t deserve your love in return?”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words sinking into your chest like stones. You had to swallow back your tears. “That’s not what I—”

“But it is,” Suguru interrupted, his voice never rising, never breaking its calm, steady cadence. “You’re saying no to us. To him. To me. After everything we’ve done to keep you safe, to give you the life you have now.”

You’d be nothing without them. You almost owe your life to Satoru alone. 

His words twisted in your mind, sharp and cutting, making you question the thoughts you’d clung to just moments before. He stepped even closer, his dark eyes softening, his tone shifting to something almost tender. “Do you really think it’s fair to push us away when all we want is to love you? To care for you? To protect you?”

Your lips parted, but the words died in your throat.

Satoru crouched slightly to meet your gaze, his cerulean eyes wide and impossibly soft. “Don’t you love me?” he asked, his voice heartbreakingly gentle. “Because if you do, baby, then you can love us.”

Suguru nodded, his smile warming into something deceptively kind. “We’re not asking for much,” he murmured. “Just for you to trust us. To let us take care of you. Isn’t that what love is about?”

The room spun, their words swirling in your mind, drowning out the panic that had gripped you moments before. Their voices, so soothing, so insistent, chipped away at your resolve, making you question everything you thought you knew.

“Shh, you’re cryin’,” Satoru said softly, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch gentle as he wiped your hot frustrated tears. “Don’t overthink it, baby. Just let us love you. That’s all we want.”

Suguru’s hand came to rest lightly on your shoulder, his grip firm but not forceful, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You don’t want to disappoint us, do you? Satoru has given you everything. Don’t you think you owe us this much?”

The words struck deep, guilt twisting in your chest as you struggled to breathe.

They loved you. This is love, right?

[suempu]

Ok but headcanons for Chilchuck begging tallman reader to sit on his face but they're too scared they'll crush him 😭

established relationship + amab and afab included + human reader + chilly chuckles has stubble !!

<3

chilchuck wouldn’t be the type to “beg” you for it. more like whine or be grumpy about it because he’s kind of embarrassed.

like i said in my previous hcs, he loves everything about going down on you. from your scent, to your moans, to your skin. he’s using his heightened senses to his advantage just to feel more of you.

-> amab

he asks you to get on top of him and fuck his face but you refuse at first. just because you think he’s not ready for it yet and you didn’t want to crush the not-so-lil guy.

chilchuck is bitter at first, feeling rejected before you quickly reassure him that you just didn’t want to hurt his throat.

“i don’t need ‘training’, it’ll be fine. just get on my face.” he almost whines.

“you’ll gag and get hurt if i immediately do that… you’re not even used to taking all of me yet.” trying to reason with him, you pepper his pouty cheeks with kisses.

you really don’t want him to have a sore throat so the next time he asks again you only give shallow pumps into his mouth. giving him a taste of your dick.

when he finally learns to take your cock all the way, chilchuck’s obsessed with the eroticism of it all.

he’s laying on the bed, hands on your thighs as you thrust into his mouth from above. gurgling noises can be heard as you moan, his warm mouth enveloping your dick as he tears up from the lack of oxygen.

you got him successfully cockdrunk as you jerk your last splurt of cum onto his face, making the small patch of stubble on his chin sticky while he looks at you with dazed eyes as he sucks the head for good measure.

he doesn’t say anything but he’ll blush and get so turned on afterwards that he ends up fucking you in the shower.

-> afab

will just ask you straight up to sit on his face and you don’t know whether to laugh or blush because it aroused you more than you thought it would.

he’ll immediately question your refusal because wdym he’s not strong enough to take all your weight???? he’s a big boy

that was a lie. but it still doesn’t ruin the idea for him, he wants you on his face so bad that he keeps going even after panting so hard each time you smother him between your thighs.

“pat my thighs if you need air, okay?”

“i can do it without needing air.”

“honey, you almost passed out last time…”

he grumbles, “i thought we agreed to never bring that up.”

chilchuck can’t really put his fingers in you whenever you sit on him since there’s not much space because of his tongue in your hole. instead he paws and teases your rim while he wiggles his nose against your clit.

loves it when he gets you to squirt, although after a few moments he’ll nag you to get in the bath and wash his soaked face.

<3 the morning after (gn)

the next morning, he’ll drink some tea to soothe his throat because of the lack of air and to keep it from being sore.

this man will not acknowledge ANYTHING he did the night before, he’ll brush everything off if you mention any embarrassing things he’s done.

“good morning. was last night okay?”

he snorts, putting his mug down. “of course. told you i could handle it.”

you hum playfully, hugging him into your chest from behind. “i don’t know… you looked delirious and… fucked out. i think you even passed out at one point-”

“i’m never going down on you ever again.”

[cobaltperun]

Hi, I was just wondering if you could do a bottom Tara x top g!p female reader fic?!

where Tara and reader are dating but when sam finds out she forbids reader to come over to their apartment the only time they see each is in college. So T and R are texting 24/7 and one evening things get a little spicy like they start sexting ig sending stuff too each other (if you get what I mean) then Tara decides to sneak out because she's missing reader (vice versa) and goes to reader's apartment and they do it for the first time also could it be soft smut and some aftercare maybe. It's just T and R being gay af!

You don't have to do this btw thanks either way!Bye have a good day/night :)

Rule Breakers

SMUT! Bottom Tara Carpenter x Top G!P Female Reader

Masterlist

Word count: 4.9k

“You are what?!” the scream Sam let out echoed through the apartment making absolutely everyone present, you and Tara included, flinch. This was not the reaction you hoped for, though Tara did warn you it would probably be like this. You had no idea how bad it would get.

“We are dating,” Tara repeated and you could tell by the way she reached out and grabbed your hand that she desperately needed to feel your touch to calm down. How could Sam not see that? See beyond the fact that she herself didn’t know you?

“Absolutely not! Tara you met her what? A month ago?” Sam was not accepting this at all. You could see the fury in her eyes as she looked at you as if you immediately threatened to hurt her sister. You knew what the reason was and you definitely couldn't blame her for it. But it still hurt to see she didn't trust Tara's judgment. Tara was an adult. She went through even more than Sam did and she just wanted to live her life, which included falling in love and dating, and you hoped one day moving in with you so you could build your future together.

Yeah. You were whipped.

“Four months, actually,” Tara rolled her eyes. The two of you met in college on the first day. You sat next to each other and immediately got along and fast forward three months, some time after she had opened up to you about how she was attacked and nearly killed by one of her closest friends, she just asked you out and you accepted it. You definitely developed a crush on her a lot sooner than that, and while that wasn't important at the moment you really believed Tara knew that all along. She just had a way of knowing just how you felt about her, in her own words, you were an open book in her eyes.

“That's not nearly long enough,” Sam pointed the finger at you, the fury in her eyes not fading even slightly.

“Hey, Sam wait!” Tara tried to stop her sister, but it was too late.

“Out right now. If I ever see you close to Tara things will not end well for you,” you had no doubts about just how serious Sam was and you saw Tara’s jaw dropping.

“What the fuck Sam?!” Tara screamed at her sister and quickly turned to you as you got up. “No this isn't what I want!” she jumped to her feet after you and stepped in front of you. “Hey, just listen to me, this isn't what I want,” it hurt you to see her like this, in pain and afraid, and her eyes already filling with tears.

For the first time since you came to the apartment you glared at Sam.

“Come on Sam give it girl a chance,” Chad tried to get her to see reason but a single glare shut him down.

“I will not risk Tara's safety,” Sam would not listen, in fact, she stood up as if to show you the way out. You swallowed the lump in your throat as Tara grabbed onto your hand to keep you from leaving, tears were falling down her face.

“I don't want this, please,” her hands trembled as she said that and for a moment you stopped glaring at Sam.

Your eyes softened and you gently brushed the tears off Tara’s face. “I know you,” whispered and leaned down to kiss her, Sam be damned. Tara relaxed into the kiss, realizing you weren’t going to leave her, and she kissed your back and poured all of her love into that one single kiss. When you separated you turned to Sam returning her glare without flinching for a single moment.

Sam was intimidating there was no doubt about it, but this was a lot more important. “You can try all you want, Sam, you will not scare me away. Got it? Drop the protective big sister bullshit because no one gets to make my girlfriend cry. Not even you,” the temperature in the room dropped when you said that and you could tell everyone just got on the verge of running away and you could not blame them.

Sam looked even more furious, she looked ready to spit fire and rain hell upon you, but you stood your ground. And to make your defiance even more clear you stepped around Tara and faced her sister head on with nothing blocking her path.

Sam remained silent for now, just glaring at you and you nodded, feeling like this ended about as well as it could. “Glad that's clear, I’ll see you later Sam,” you made your point clear, there was no reason to stick around because hanging out with Tara at this point, in this situation and in their apartment wouldn’t do any good for anyone, you and Tara especially.

~X~

She absolutely won the lottery. She would never try to even purchase a ticket because all her luck was just spent on getting the most amazing, badass girlfriends she could ever hope for. Did the way you talked back to Sam make her wet? Yes, yes it did.

Would she have gone to her room to handle that if everyone else still wasn’t at the apartment? Yes, she would have.

Would she do it tonight? Absolutely.

~X~

After what happened last week you and Tara kept seeing each other only at college, and that, more often than not, led to both of you just ditching the classes and getting coffee and croissants from a local bakery you both loved to visit. You did not expect that single decision to haunt you for the rest of the week. You both thought you were just that slick about it as you skipped several classes over the past week just so you spend time together and act like an actual couple instead of two people hiding from the world.

The world in this case being Tara's sister.

If Tara started failing classes because of her absence, well, that would be entirely on Sam.

~X~

Tara should have seen the trouble coming from a mile away. She just had too much fun today, walking with you in the park, grabbing breakfast, you even managed to catch a movie, and it was actually a good one! And to make things even better Tara couldn't keep her hand away from your own, constantly holding it as you went from one place to another.

And then the world just turned against her. She opened the doors and saw Sam expecting her with a stern look on her face, and arms crossed, sitting at the table in the kitchen.

She was in so much trouble.

“You were with her, weren't you?” well she couldn't exactly confess, so she would at least try to deny it. What were the chances that Sam had an actual proof Tara skipped classes with you?

“We were catching up on some lesson we missed, so classes got extended,” Tara lied a bit easier than she thought she would, but she figured the habits she picked up on while she was living with her mother were difficult to get rid of.

“Do not lie to me, Tara!” she flinched at Sam’s shout. “I went to pick you up and you weren't there. And when I asked your classmates if you even came to the classes, they told me neither of you showed up today!” Tara was caught pretty much red-handed and Sam knew it.

Tara sighed and sat down across the table. “You can't expect me to break up with her, Sam. I love her!” she was getting frustrated by Sam's behavior. Why couldn't her sister just let her go, just let her live her own life.

“Tara, you don't love her, you don't even know her properly! She could be dangerous,” this paranoia had to stop, because Sam saw everyone that tried to approach Tara as an enemy, as someone Tara needed protection from.

“Sam do you hear yourself?” Tara couldn’t deal with it anymore. “We are living with Quinn and she keeps bringing random guys to the apartment! Any one of them could be as psycho that just gets up one night and kills all three of us. You don't know those guys, yet you let Quinn bring them along!” Terra pointed out, exasperated by Sam not being able to see logic in her words, more importantly she was furious because Sam wouldn't trust her judgment.

She knew you. She had complete trust in you. And she got betrayed in a worse way than Sam did, after all while Richie was Sam’s boyfriend, Amber has been Tara’s friend for over a decade by that point.

“That isn't how Ghostface works and you know that,” Sam argued back. Ghostface this, Ghostface that. Tara was getting sick of it.

How could Sam not see it? “Ghostface isn't the only psycho, Sam! I can't live my life fearing that anyone I meet is going to turn out to be a psychotic killer. I want to live Sam, I fell in love and I want to enjoy that! I want to be with Y/N!” she desperately hoped Sam would just for once listen to her.

Yet Sam acted like a broken record. “We don't know her,” and Tara knew it wouldn’t matter how long you spent trying to get Sam’s trust. Sam would never know you ‘well enough’, Sam wouldn’t even try to get to know you.

“So what? I'm just supposed to fall in love with Chad? Because who else is left?” Tara demanded, but she might as well be talking in an entirely different language.

“This conversation is over, you’re grounded for a week,” Sam stood up and stormed into her room, leaving utterly flabbergasted Tara alone.

What a great way to spend the week off from classes.

~X~

Five days, that’s how long this torture’s been going on and Tara felt like she was about to lose her mind. And she was supposed to last an entire week?! The remaining two days felt like they would never end because each day seemed to drag out more than the previous one, even witconstant texting between the two of you. She turned in her bed for what felt like the hundredth time and her bed showed it. Messy twisted blanket, crumpled sheets, her head resting only on the corner of her pillow as she once again got on her back and stared at the ceiling. Sam was being unfair. Mindy had Anika, her and Sam were living with Quinn, who they didn’t know beforehand, and Tara was sure Sam had something going on with that Danny guy, and Chad was also occasionally flirting with girls! She was the only one who couldn’t have what she wanted.

Her phone buzzed and she immediately scrambled out of the blankets to take it. Curse her battery for needing to be charged! Tara quickly unlocked her phone and saw the message was from you.

Y/N: You need to see this!

Underneath it she saw the cutest Instagram reel of a puppy surrounded by ducklings.

Tara: 😍😍😍 They are so cute!

Your answer was immediate.

Y/N: Not as cute as certain someone, but it’ll have to do 😉

Tara fell back on her bed, a ridiculously wide smile already making its way to her face. Fuck, she missed you so much. ‘Yeah? Certain someone?’ she replied and her breath hitched when you sent her a selfie wearing a very soft looking shirt and grinning at her, and all of that could be manageable, if only Tara’s eyes didn’t immediately go to your lips and she realized it’s been way too long since she got to kiss you. She needed to feel your lips on her own, on her neck, on… fuck, what if you went lower. She bit her lower lip, studying your face, imagining your smiles, the way you looked at her.

Y/N: Tara? Baby? You’ve left me on seen for five minutes

That message temporarily snapped her out of her daydreaming. Or would it be nightdreaming? She never really thought of the logic behind the word. And she was desperately trying to ignore the desire gradually, scratch that, rapidly building inside of her.

Tara: I miss you

She finally replied and glanced back at your selfie as you typed the response.

Y/N: I kiss you too

Y/N (edited): I miss you too

Tara burst out laughing and quickly covered her mouth. ‘I saw it! Can’t take it back!’ she replied only to barely hold her laughter back when you just replied with ‘Shit.’ She smiled fondly, taking pity on you.

Tara: I want to kiss you too, so, so bad. I keep thinking about it and other things all the time

There, she confessed, knowing you were still prone to getting embarrassed and all shy about how affectionate Tara could get. Randomly kissing your cheek or hugging you when she knew you least expected was easily her favorite thing to do. The clear embarrassment on your face and the hitched breath, and especially the way you would freeze for a moment kept Tara entertained.

You had your own ways to mess with her, though she suspected you weren’t doing it on purpose. You would just go ahead and pull her chair out for her to sit, or bring her favorite coffee along when you would meet up and it was really messing her up to feel so cared for after years of neglect. It was yet another reason why she was so mad at Sam because she feared she wouldn’t be able to forgive her sister if Sam’s suspicious nature chased you away.

Y/N: Other things?

Hook, line, and sinker.

Tara opened her camera and switched to video. She winked at it and then turned it lower, to her waist, making sure to capture every detail as she unbuttoned her jeans and just brushed her fingers over the zipper, taunting you. She slowly panned the camera up her body while trailing the path with her hand. “Other things,” she was well aware of the sliver of her skin the camera caught when she pushed her shirt up. “Very specific things,” she whispered as seductively as she could, which, well, she didn’t have experience with seducing people, but she knew she’d get the desired effect with you as her hand brushing between her breasts moved the shirt in a way that emphasized her cleavage. And then she returned the camera to her face to show you she was lightly biting the corner of her lower lip.

She didn’t hesitate one moment before sending it.

You saw the message immediately, yet you didn’t respond, and Tara may have been stuck between getting nervous and completely confident in her charms. Minutes later she finally saw you typing.

Y/N: Tara

She could hear the exasperation in your message, yet she just sent ‘Yes, Baby? 🥺’

Y/N: Look at you acting all innocent

Yeah, she knew she was being rather mischievous. Even more so when she just replied with: ‘But I am all innocent’ she waited a moment, imagining you rolling your eyes and not immediately noticing the word play.

Tara: All innocent and inexperienced, just waiting for you to touch me

She put her phone under her shirt and took a photo, making sure there was just enough light to tease the details of her bra and sent it to you.

Your reply made her squeeze her thighs together. You sent her another photo, this time of you in front of a mirror, your hand covering the bulge in your pants and Tara caught herself wondering, and not for the first time, how big you were.

“Don’t tease me,” she sent you a voice message, whining as she cupped her breast, as her mind created the images of you taking her, fucking her. Instead of a message you actually called her and she resisted cursing because she was about to unzip her jeans and slip her hand inside. “Hey,” she whispered, trying to figure out if she could still do it.

“I’m teasing? Do you have any idea what you did to me?” your voice sounded strained an she knew you were in just as much of a dilemma as she was, only you seemed to be stronger than her, because if she didn’t do something about the lust she felt she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.

“I know,” she admitted, biting back a moan as she slipped her hand into her jeans and teased her pussy over her panties. Fuck, she was already wet. “Y/N,” if only you were here with her, touching her, fucking her. “Are you hard?”

“What do you think?” you replied and she knew the answer. “I haven’t seen you in five days and the first thing you send me is that fucking video,” oh, you were cursing. She really got to you and you were definitely getting to her as she pushed her panties aside and slid her fingers through her wet folds.

“You started it,” Tara tried to defend herself.

“It was an innocent selfie!” you exclaimed just as she brushed the tip of her finger over her clit.

“Fuck, if we don’t stop neither of us will be innocent by tomorrow morning,” she moaned into the pillow, stuck between the urge to make herself cum and just sneak out and go to you.

“Shit, maybe we shouldn’t stop,” she could hear the faint sound of you stroking your cock and probably would have wondered if you could hear her too, but more importantly she made her decision.

“I’ll be there in ten,” she absolutely despised herself for pulling her hand out of her jeans and ending the call, but she would quickly get rid of that feeling, she just needed to get to you first.

~X~

You met in front of your apartment with Tara immediately jumping into your arms and kissing you, and you found yourself being pushed against the wall next to your doors as she deepened the kiss. “Fuck, finally,” she groaned, pressing her body against yours. “Y/N,” she moaned your name, and you felt her grinding against you, not even waiting to get inside.

The effort it took to actually slow down and take her to your bedroom should be studied, but you couldn’t let your first time be rough and quick. No, Tara deserved a lot more than that. “Easy, Tara, let’s just go inside,” you barely put your hand over your mouth to quiet the moan when she nibbled on your neck.

“I need you,” she whined, but allowed you to pull her into the apartment and toward the bedroom.

“I know, I know, I need you too,” you confessed, uncomfortably hard, and it only got worse when Tara pushed you onto the bed and straddled your lap. “But we can take as much time as we want, just take it slow and enjoy our first time instead of rushing through it.”

She felt it when she jumped into your arms, and now that she was straddling your lap. This was what she wanted for so long, yet now that she was looking at you the words you spoke echoed through her mind. Yeah, she would really enjoy that, just taking things slow for once. Slow and steady.

She leaned down, kissing you softly as she brushed her fingers over the fabric of your shirt, reaching up to your shoulders and squeezing lightly when you wrapped your arms around her. “You sure you’ll be able to hold back,” she asked when she pulled back, you were very hard after all.

You ran your fingers through her hair and looked her in the eyes. “I’m not holding anything back,” you promised and kissed her again. Your lips felt so soft, and Tara moaned, she truly missed this feeling. You slid your hand down to her neck and Tara let out a shuddering sigh as she lifted her head up and made it easier for you to kiss her neck. This was good, this was familiar. Making out with you always left her needy and this time wasn’t an exception as she felt the heat pooling in her core. “Y-Y/N,” she whimpered when you bit her neck slightly, just the way she liked it and Tara slowly began grinding on you. “Just like that,” she whispered as you dragged your tongue up her neck, soothing the burning skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” you were mesmerized by her, captivated by her beauty. Her breathy moans felt like the most beautiful melody ever created and you were the one causing them. You pulled her shirt up just enough to slip your hands underneath it. You felt the slight shiver of her body as she squirmed a bit at your touch.

“Your hands are a bit cold,” she giggled as your fingertips brushed along her sides. “Y/N, that tickles,” she smacked you slightly on the shoulder and saw the grin on your face. “Goofball,” she kissed you quickly.

“Sorry,” you muttered, only half-serious as Tara sat up and slowly, in the most tormenting, teasing way possible, took her shirt and bra off. “Fuck,” she looked gorgeous and there was no way your eyes weren’t giving your thoughts away because you couldn’t get them off her body.

Tara smiled at that, she’s shown you her scars before, so she wasn’t worried about your reaction, but this? She was definitely getting an ego boost from this reaction, and the way your cock twitched against her pussy. “You want me, Y/N? Take me,” she said it. “Do anything you want with me,” and in return she’d do anything she wanted with you and there were plenty of things she wanted, so many in fact she knew you couldn’t do it all tonight.

You cleared your throat and nodded as you sat up yourself and then flipped the two of you around so you were on top of Tara. You looked her in the eyes as you leaned down and, while cupping her breast, licked her already hard nipple. Tara took your own shirt and bra off and watched you as you sucked on her breast while she ran her fingers through your hair, encouraging you to keep going. Her other hand found your breasts and she brushed her thumb against your nipple.

Your tangled bodies moved together. Every touch of your hands left her skin burning, left her body more desperate for your touch, every single brush of your fingers drove her mad with desire. And she still didn’t take her jeans or panties off. Your hand went lower until your fingers tugged at her jeans, teasing her and making her moan. “Need you,” she whispered and felt you nodding as your unzipped her jeans and pulled them down.

“You’re soaking wet,” you grunted as you slowly rubbed her pussy over her panties. Tara dared to believe you could slip your cock inside her without any troubles with how wet she was if only you weren’t so big. You pulled your hand out of her jeans, making her immediately whine.

“Y/N, don’t tease me, please,” she begged, but luckily you just took a moment to take her jeans and panties off and strip the rest of your clothes as well.

“That’s your specialty,” you got back on top of her and pushed two fingers inside her pussy, and if she wasn’t as aroused as she was she would probably be embarrassed at how easily your fingers slipped in. Your fingers felt so good inside her as you continued kissing and caressing her body and Tara lay there, a moaning mess before your cock was even inside her. She reached down and wrapped her hand around your cock, there was precum leaking out of it as she rubbed the tip with her thumb. “Don’t, I won’t last if you do that,” you bit her shoulder a bit rougher than you intended. “I want to cum when I’m inside you,” you said while bringing her close to her orgasm.

“Me too then. Put it in me, I’m ready,” she spread her legs for you and kissed you as you blindly reached for the drawer next to your bed and grabbed the condom on top of it. If she didn’t quite literally tell you you would be having sex she would have teased you, but as it was she just wanted you to put it on and fuck her.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” you asked as you lined your cock up with the entrance to her pussy. And oh, she was ready, soaking wet, she probably wouldn’t even feel any pain. Tara nodded and kissed you once more as she hugged you tightly. She felt the tip of your cock sliding into her pussy and moaned, breaking the kiss and leaning her head back on your pillow.

“Y- Ah! Y/N!” she cried out your name, her fingertips digging into the back of your head, her back arching as you wrapped one arm around her and used the other to hold onto her hip.

“You’re taking me so well, Tara,” you whispered in her ear and finally, finally, she took all of you. She was close before, but now, feeling this full, she knew she was right on the edge.

You knew you couldn’t last for long like this. Tara’s warm, wet pussy engulfed you and you tried to focus on something else, to prolong this, but there was no way you could do that, so, you moved your hand from her hip to her clit and began rubbing as you slowly began thrusting into her, hoping you could get her to cum before you did. You would hold back until she cums, you promised that to yourself.

“I’m so close,” Tara moaned. “Look at me,” she pleaded, and you immediately complied as you looked into each other’s eyes, your bodies moving in the perfect sync as she began meeting your thrusts. Her orgasm kept building up, slow and steady, like your entire lovemaking was tonight, and with each thrust she could see you were getting close as well. “Y/N,” she moaned your name, no longer conscious of how much time you spent like that. She just knew that at one point she came, loud and hard, as your sweat covered bodies pressed together and she felt you cumming as well with a moan of your own.

She was absolutely spent. Satisfied with this being her first time. There would be other nights or days for longer lovemaking with multiple orgasms. In her head, and she truly hoped, in yours too, this was perfect.

Tara held onto you, feeling happier than she’s been in a long time. The blissful feeling consuming her entirely as you pulled your cock out and she glanced down at the filled condom. Maybe it was just her orgasm affecting her brain but she couldn’t help but think how one day, when you’re both ready, you’ll be cumming deep inside her. “Baby, Y/N,” she hummed as you caught your breath on top of her and she gently scratched the back of your head.

You lowered your head a bit and kissed her shoulder. “You were incredible,” you whispered, peppering her shoulder and the side of her neck with soft butterfly kisses. “Tara,” you whispered her name like it was your own, personal salvation. “I love you so much,” it wasn’t the first time you said those words, but it felt so good to hear them.

“I love you too, Y/N,” she tilted your chin up and kissed you on the lips, just as soft as everything tonight was. “I never thought sex would feel this good,” she admitted. There was no pain, no holding back, it consumed her entirely and all she could feel was your love for her as you took her innocence.

You chuckled. “Tell me about it,” you rolled onto your back and pulled Tara on top of you so you could rest while still holding her.

Tara had other ideas, turning both of you so you were lying on the side. “There, that’s better,” she whispered and leaned in, closing the distance between you. You would need to get up soon, clean up, take care of the mess you made, but she could bask in your warmth for a bit longer. Especially when you began rubbing her back, soothing her, keeping her feeling good. “I love how gentle and loving you were,” she whispered as she snuggled up to you, aware that, while she did absolutely enjoy the gentle sex she wasn’t opposed to getting a bit rougher sooner or later. She wanted to feel it all with you, to try everything and anything you were both comfortable with.

“It felt right,” you hummed, focusing on holding her and occasionally kissing wherever you could reach at the moment. While Tara showered you with love through words, you preferred touch, and it worked for both of you perfectly. Tara who was starved for touch, you who were starved for words of affirmation, I was a match made in heaven in her mind.

You stayed like that for some time, easily fifteen minutes, if not closer to twenty. Just cuddling and loving one another before you finally went to clean up, not leaving the shared shower until all the hot water had run out.

A/N: Well... Sam may have been a tiny bit over the top/out of character for the sake of the plot 🤣🤣

[chelseeebe]

you win, i lose

we’re back with these two pathetic little weirdos, who cheered!! another follow up to gimme a hand, bump n’ grind and truth or dare or can be read as a standalone! i think i’m gonna give these two a break for now and work on some other things including some lovely requests i have<3

18+. mdni! smut with a little bit of plot this time! female!reader x eddie munson. no use of y/n. modern au i guess but it is so not mentioned or relevant

eddie sighs, a long, guttural sigh that on reflection, made him sound like a sad little dog.

“what the hell was that for?” barely looking up from your phone to talk to him.

he debates even saying it, terrified that you’d have his balls chopped off for uttering the words.

“don’t you think we’re boring now?” voice wavering as the words come out.

after six months of officially dating, your relationship had started to slow a little. no more making him cum in his pants or sneaky blowjobs in the bathroom at parties. it was sex or it was sleep.

the transition from best friends who shouldn’t be doing this to same old couple had been jarring, especially over the past week when eddie’s felt his dick was on overdrive.

“boring? huh? i don’t think we’re boring? we literally went to a gig tonight,” baffled by his insulting suggestion.

“not like that,” leering up at you from his side of the bed, “i mean.. when we have sex, it’s kinda boring,” shrugging, as if to lessen the blow of what he’d said.

your face crumples, both offence and perhaps a little hurt flash through your features. “wow, thanks eds. no, i actually didn’t think that at all.”

it’s in that moment that he realises, he’s fucked up. majorly.

“w- i’m- shit, no,” shoulders slumping, “you’re taking it the wrong way,” as if there were any other way for you to take it.

“i don’t think so, you couldn’t have been clearer actually,” sending daggers through his skull, “alright,” you place your hands on your hips, “you don’t get to touch me for a week, no kissing, no cuddling.. definitely no sex,” pouting slightly, “since that’s how you wanna be.”

“what?” eddie sits up, at full attention now, “you know i didn’t mean it like that,” fumbling to turn this around.

“i don’t care, you said it,” standing strong, “now you have to live with the consequences.”

his head rolls back against the headboard, immediate regret for anything he had just said.

god only knows if he’d live to survive the week.

-

that night in bed, eddie turns, huffing his frustrations into the pillow. it hadn’t even been twenty four hours yet and he already felt like he was going crazy.

his hand sprawls out over the mattress, edging to touch you, though he stops just before.

“you wanna give up already?” you taunt, staring though the darkness to throw another jab at him.

“no, i don’t. i just wanna cuddle my girlfriend in bed, is that too much to ask?”

“i told you the rules, no.”

“fuuck,” grumbling to himself, “this is stupid,” pouting to himself, in his self-inflicted drought.

“maybe don’t say stupid shit and this won’t have to happen again,” smug and self-righteous as you turn away, leaving him to yearn for just a brush of skin.

-

the party had been a bad idea from the start. eddie had never been so pent up in his life and it had only been three, long, miserable days.

you’d made sure to wear that tiny black dress, the one he really liked. struggling to even keep his eyes on the road on the drive over.

a few beers and a no-contact order could only mean one thing and he was dreading it.

you were adamant on making eyes at him across the kitchen counter all night, driving him literally insane. any other time, you’d have snuck off to the bathroom or gone home early but he knows there is a slim chance of that happening tonight.

you sidle up to him, mischievous glint in your eye as you slide something into his pocket before slinking off again, faster than he can compute.

he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the lacy fabric just enough to realise what it was. quickly spinning on his heel so as to not let anyone else see.

your fucking panties. wrapped around his fingers for everyone to see.

there’s no hesitation about it, excusing himself to the bathroom before anyone could ask what he was doing.

holy shit. you’re fucking crazy. on another playing field completely. eddie almost wishes that he’d asked for your panties earlier, far before you’d decided to play these brutal games with him.

he slides them from his pocket, not before making sure the door was locked for the second time, holding them to his nose, like the freak he truly was.

oh god.

he misses you so bad. he’d take the most boring, uneventful missionary for the rest of his life if it meant you’d never deprive him of this ever again.

it takes a moment for him to regain enough consciousness to rejoin the party, keeping his fingers wrapped tight around the lacy material as argyle prattles on about some crazy new strain he’d discovered.

your eyes sparkle, waiting for him to meet your gaze. but he’s not giving you that. not allowing you the satisfaction of ruining him so badly.

-

the second the van is far enough away from the house, eddie wails loudly in despair.

“that wasn’t fair!” he whines, throwing his head back against the seat of his van, gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“it’s totally fair,” you refute, smiling away to yourself.

“no it’s not,” huffing like a petulant child, “i can’t give you my boxers to sniff.. it’s not equal.”

“i’m sorry- you sniffed them?” flabbergasted, “you’re a pervert,” collapsing into a fit of giggles.

“yeah i fucking did,” proud of his perversions, he was the most sexually frustrated he had ever been, sniffing your panties was nothing compared to what he felt like doing.

“weirdo.”

eddie wants so badly to reach over, slide his hand underneath your dress and really take advantage of the no-panties situation. he was getting hard just thinking about it.

it’s crazy how much you insulting him was actually turning him on more.

“please just let me touch you,” he pleads, “i’m sorry for what i said, i need you,” there had been a time where eddie had to make do with getting to feel your touch every couple months, he’s not sure how he ever survived.

three days and he felt like he was about to implode.

not only had he dreamed of your pussy, it had been haunting him in his mundane life too.

stuck under some dusty old car at work, only thinking about how good you felt, ignoring any of the actually important things he had to do.

“nuh-uh, you made your bed, now lie in it,” propping your feet up on the dash, causing your skirt to slide even higher.

eddie couldn’t believe you’d be so evil and cruel, even in his darkest hour you were depriving him of you.

-

at some point in the night, eddie’s brain must have decided that enough was enough. his half-asleep, dream filled mind doesn’t really comprehend what he’s doing, hand snaking around your waist, using your body as leverage to pull himself closer, pressed against your ass.

“eddie.. eddie,” you hush, shaking his arm. “you’re cheating,” voice still hoarse and sleepy.

“i give up,” he grumbles, slowly grinding his hips against your ass, “you win, i lose,” admitting defeat at long last. if only he had sucked up his pride enough to do this four days ago.

“four days.. four fucking days,” you scold, though make no effort to move away from him, “you can’t even last a full week, you loser,” chastising him was music to his ears.

“mhm,” he grumbles into the back of your neck, “keep being mean to me, i love it,” spare hand creeping down to shift your shorts to the side.

you laugh into the pillow, moving your hips backwards against his crotch, “you’re so pathetic,” you goad, only firing him up more.

“oh god,” he groans, still rutting against the soft fabric, “i’m gonna cum right now,” whining into your ear.

“if you cum without fucking touching me, i’m gonna be so pissed off,” your grip tightening on his forearm, almost pinching him.

he huffs into your hair, slowing his rhythm to a complete stop, hastily tugging on your pajama shorts, eager to get them off and his dick wet.

this can’t have been any better on you, really, not only were you punishing him, but yourself too.

your shorts rest somewhere around your ankles as eddie struggles to get his own boxers down, grunting in sheer desperation as his cock aches for you.

his hand slides underneath your tee, pulling it up with his arm, gripping onto your boob for leverage. eddie’s never been one to take control but if he hadn’t, he’s not sure you’d have ever touched him again.

wasting no time in hoisting your leg higher, his already leaking tip nudging your sopping entrance. confirmation that you’d been just as eager for it as he was.

“‘m so hard for you,” pushing himself between your folds, shuddering at the overwhelming feelings jolting through his limbs.

“shit,” you breathe, placing your palm above his as it gropes your fleshy skin.

“need you-oh god.. so bad,” senselessly thrusting his hips, slamming against your ass while the bed begins to rock, thanking his lucky stars that wayne was still at work.

“yeah? tell me, tell me how bad you need it,” gasping for air, your soft, angelic pants fill his tiny bedroom.

eddie groans, aching to please you but also unable to fathom the correct words needed to truly convey his feelings.

“y-you’re all i think about,” tightening his grip on your skin, “at work..” panting his words out between rhythmless thrusts, “at home- fuck oh fuck,” squeezing his eyes shut, hoping to make this last at least a few minutes longer.

nothing had ever felt so euphoric, frying his nerve endings, sending his brain into a hazy state that he just may never recover from.

“fuck,” you grit, clawing at his hand, “missed you so bad,” rolling your head back to rest on his shoulder, showing no mercy to his neighbours with your echoing moans. guaranteed to receive disgusting looks from david across the way for the rest of his life.

at this point, eddie becomes an incoherent babbling mess, eyes pressed shut as his stomach flips and turns in all directions. is now the time to start thinking about having kids?

“let me.. let me cum in you,” driven wild by the thought of filling you up over and over. a rare treat that really only lead to a week of stress for you both, but so incredibly worthwhile.

chanting his name right into his ear, other hand stuck between your thighs, circling your clit with an animalistic ferocity. you’d wanted this just as bad as he did, only you were clearly more strong-willed than he’d ever be.

not a second of this had been boring or anything he ever wanted to miss again. swearing to himself that he’d never be so to open his mouth foolish again.

“y-yeah,” nodding encouragingly, “please,” nearing your own, overdue orgasm.

eddie had been clued on to all the little signs for months now, tightening around him while your moans turned more into whimpers, jaw slack and your eyes rolled back.

“shitshitshit,” he rushes, certain he’d left indentations in your skin, “gonna cum- gonna cum in you,” making sure that you know what you’d signed up for, not that he had much choice.

his orgasm rocks his body, juddering as he paints your walls, howling as the overwhelming feeling washes over again and again. four days of built up energy all coming out in one.

you shriek, “oh god,” your body turning to putty between his arms, trembling as you cum, “mine.. all mine,” cradling his arm in yours, placing half-assed kisses to his neck.

he was, unashamedly so. no one had nor could ever come close to the way you make him feel. dragging him to the lowest levels of his pride just to boost him right back up when you said shit like that.

eddie doesn’t let go, scared that you’ll come out of your haze and get mad about his failed temporary abstinence.

you shuffle round under his grip anyway, face burning and your hair resembling a birds nest, though completely content as his release drips down your leg.

your palm slaps his cheek playfully, “don’t you ever call me boring again,” squishing his flaming hot skin between your fingers, “because you’ll never touch me again,” unsure of whether you were joking or not.

“yes ma’am,” running his fingers down your side, until they reach the curve of your ass, “that’s a promise.”

[zevrra]

[—𝐄𝐔𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ]

synop: you and vik have a little too much to drink and decide it’s a perfect night to appreciate jayce and everything he does.

wc: 1.8k

includes: gn!reader, smüt, mdni, 21(+), established relationship, jayvik x reader, oräl (m receiving), jayce is pathetic, 3some, reader & vik top jayce, jayce is just really obedient tbh, lil bit of edging, mentions of drinking/being drunk

extra(s): part 2 coming soon… >:3

oh you should not have had that last drink. or the last two.

jayce had invited you and viktor to one of the council parties he regularly attended alone but this time he had begged for you both to join him. which ended up with just you and viktor standing off in the corner, away from the crowds, chugging their frilly and expensive alcohol, while jayce mingled about; doing his regular golden boy activities. and when he finally made it back to the two of you after his schmoozing, you and viktor were both giggling, drunk messes.

jayce knew better about how things would end with both of you drunk. so he had said his goodbyes before dragging the two of you out of the venue the second upon finding you, heading in the direction of home. but when you had made one too many stops, demanding to touch every animal you came across; while viktor argued with no one, refusing to budge, about some scientific thing you couldn’t distinguish, jayce had had enough and unceremoniously picked you both up and actually carried your asses all the way home, over his shoulder.

when jayce finally got you both home, he takes you both straight to the bedroom. he sits you down on the bed and tells you not to move; he was going to get you both some much needed water.

“ugh, jayce is just so…” you mutter, watching the large man leave the bedroom and disappear down the hall.

“charming? perfect?” viktor chimes in as he sits on the edge of the bed where he had been put down by jayce, hand brushing through his brown hair.

you chuckle alongside vik, nodding your head in agreement. “mhm, all of the above but he should relaaaax tonight.” you respond falling back onto the large bed with a poof. the sheets were comforting and cool, if it had been any other night you might’ve just fallen asleep right then and there but you refused to do so; not tonight.

you gasp with the idea tumbling through the fog in your drunken brain, sitting up quickly next to vik. “i know what we should do!” you exclaim before leaning over to whisper your plan in vik’s ear.

when jayce returns to the bedroom he’s holding two glasses of water as promised, standing right in front of you and viktor before handing a cup to you and the other to viktor. you share a look with vik, the two of you trying to stifle a few knowing giggles while bringing the cup to your lips. you take a few much needed sips of water before by “accident” the cup wobbles, spilling water down the front of your outfit.

“oh noooo…” you sigh as jayce gently takes the cup away from your grasp in fear of you spilling anything else, setting it down on a nearby table. “guess you’ll just have to take it off for me.” you hum, lifting your arms up into the air.

jayce rolls his eyes, as if he didn’t know what you were trying to do, but does as you tell him too anyway. his fingers gently grab your top and he lifts it with ease over your head. “okay, okay. you two need to rest now.”

“jayce…you’re always so kind and always take good care of us.” you hum as your fingers trail along the hem of jayce’s pants, digging gently into the fabric and giving it a stiff tug.

“so let us return that favor.” viktor adds with his own devious smile.

jayce upon realizing the hint the two of you have dropped, blushes a brilliant bright red; even to the tips of his ears. he slides a hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide his embarrassment, or maybe it’s his excitement, as he mulls over the idea. “how do you two have so much energy…” he finally mumbles, glancing between the two of you with his pretty hazel eyes, having already made up his mind.

viktor follows your hand and together, somehow, you manage to unbuckle jayce’s pants. he shrugs them off to make it a little easier for the two of you to continue. you find yourself running a hand up his thigh, sliding it along his warm skin, before moving a hand to squeeze the front of his boxers. viktor kisses along your shoulder as his own hand follows along yours, pressing right up against the front of his pants, tangling with your own fingers. jayce sighs at the welcoming touch as he watches the scene unfold before him. and while a little voice in the back of his head tells him that maybe this isn’t the best idea for his drunk lovers; the growing need in his lower half wins him over in the end. as if there was any competition between the two in the first place.

it doesn’t take long before jayce is breathless and fully hard. his chest flushed red to match his face while you and vik fall into a nice, rhythmic pace of groping the front of his boxers until he’s practically begging for the two of you to; ‘quit teasing’.

the drunk duo share a laugh as your hand finds itself running up along the edge of jay’s lower abdomen, following along the muscle he bears like a sailor following a map. relishing in the way jayce sucks in a sharp breath as your fingers move down his happy trail before hooking around the edge of his underwear. and with vik’s help, you manage to strip jayce of his boxers; finally.

and by god does the sight of jayce’s hard cock sober you up real fast. your mouth waters at the sight as your fingers slowly wrap around his shaft and you give him a slow tug. you hum sweetly at the low groan jayce makes, licking your lips at the sight of his flushed face. you lean forward to press a kiss into his tip, trailing your lips down along his shaft while giving him another stroke.

“you’re too damn tall…” vik grumbles, annoyed with the fact that if he wanted to help he might end up on his knees; and there was no way he was going to do that.

you couldn’t blame him, you didn’t want to get on your knees either.

“i agree. go lay down, pretty boy.” you instruct as you retrieve your hand to gesture somewhere behind you.

jayce rolls his eyes at the silly demand but he’s going to do it anyway. he, almost shyly, shuffles to the top of the bed; where he lays down, settling back against the countless of pillows. you and viktor crawl your way up to his side, descending upon him like wild, starving animals. where viktor takes his right while you take his left, hands grasping at his thighs, parting his legs to fit you both. one of vik’s hands wraps around the base of jayce’s cock before his thin fingers move up onto his tip. while vik begins to jerk jayce off, you kiss along jayce’s thighs and stomach. planting kisses all over his lower half that you could reach, teasing him as vik’s hand moves swiftly along his shaft. jayce groans, biting his bottom lip as vik uses his fingers to draw out any precum he can from jayce’s head. he uses a mix of precum and spit to slick the entirety of his shaft.

you push whatever hair you can out of the way before your lips find the tip of his awaiting cock. you suck gently on his head, vik’s hand continues to work on stroking up where he can before meeting your lips; until he replaces his fingers with his own tongue. you tease the tip of jayce’s cock with your tongue, pressing it flat against the underside of his head, loving the way the big boy sucks in a sharp breath in the midst of his pleasure. you slip your mouth of his head as viktor’s lips meet yours. you kiss him drunkenly over jayce’s throbbing cock, his tongue slipping between your lips. your tongue clashes with vik’s for a sweet moment before you both untangle just to slip jayce’s cock between your locked lips.

now you both work effortlessly in pleasing jayce. tongues clashing against the tip, pressing hot kisses into his shaft, sharing jayce like a snack before you slip him back into the warmth of your mouth. jayce groans as he places a hand gently against your head as you return to sucking him off, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth and you do as he wants. slipping your lips further down onto his shaft, as far as you can, until your lips pop off of him once more; where viktor replaces your mouth with his own.

now you two take turns sucking jayce off until he’s a whining mess. “mmph fuck!” jayce cries as he throws his head back.

a high pitched groan slips past his lips with every breath he takes, brows furrowed as he tries his hardest to concentrate on not coming. his toes curl and you can feel his thighs tense up everytime your lips wrap around him, pull off, and vik slips his mouth back onto his cock. never giving jayce truly a moment to rest. the next time vik pops off, you return to the meal, and take jayce all the way into your mouth. he fills your mouth entirely, hitting damn near the back of your throat and your jaw begins to burn with the stretch.

jayce sucks in a sharp breath as you take him deep into your throat, grabbing any hair he can and gripping it gently as the sweetest whines tumble from his lips. “feels‘so good baby.”

and for a moment, you think that maybe you could continue forever drawing every noise you possibly could out of jayce until the sudden need between your own thighs grows to be too much.

you slip your mouth off of his cock, licking your puffy lips. you sneak a hand between your thighs to press against your soaking wet core. “can’t take it anymore jay…” you groan.

viktor chuckles at your desperation, as if he’s in any better shape than you are with his stiff cock straining against his pants. “i can’t take much more either.” viktor finally admits after you gave him a sarcastic look with a lifted eyebrow.

jayce, who is still flushed red, panting, hanging on the edge of his orgasm, and slightly dazed; curls up one of his fingers and motions for you to come to him. “c’mere baby.” he mutters with a fluttering gaze. forgetting his own orgasm as he wants nothing more than to please both you and viktor. as if it was his life’s purpose to make you both feel incredible.