#eye contact absolutely does not mean just looking at someone's face
Note
How do you think the denalis would react to a reader who loves giving head?
Same question for the Resident evil ladies
I mean-
Pretty much that, LMAO.
Ofc they´re all for it. What´s not to love about a beautiful lady expressing that love and devotion by devouring you like she´s got them cravings? 😩🤌
So, I´d say the inward reaction is more or less the same, no matter which lady we´re talking.
On the outside, however-
Listen, some of us got a reputation to uphold, aight?
...With that said:
(Imma switch to "you" here cause it flows a lot better and makes for a more immersive feeling. ;3)
Warning Promise: Things are about to get rather gay.
.
.
.
Tanya Denali:
doesn´t care about the place
outside, inside, up, down, above, under - great, she´ll take it
she does care about the position though
we´ve been through this - she´s no Bottom
so, don´t expect her to lie down like a pillow princess
she´s a leader, ffs
an alpha
she´s either gonna be sitting (preferably on your face) or standing
perhaps she´ll lift a leg for easier access if she´s standing
then it´s showtime
she enjoys herself thoroughly and has no problem letting the world know
why shouldn´t they know?
you belong to her just as she belongs to you, after all
let them hear
when she´s feeling particularly naughty, she´ll make sure to sound as much like a porn star as she can manage
to say she loves it when you turn as red as a lobster would be quite the understatement
it drives her wild
which is one of the reasons she does it in the first place
the other reason is to ensure her sisters won´t come within miles of the two of you
(and they better stay there)
...it´s also a massive boost to her ego though, it has to be said
seeing the effect she has on you, even when she´s the one receiving?
more often than not, that´s the final straw for her
Kate Denali:
like Tanya, she doesn´t really care about the place
but, unlike Tanya, she also doesn´t care about the position
she´s just damn happy to be here, yknow?
will curse
a lot
will also compliment you
a lot
it´s actually a combination, like-
"Fuck! You´re so pretty down on your knees. All f-for me? Fucking...p-perfect! My perfect little princezná. God-"
she loves letting you know what a mess she is
all because of you
her perfect little warrior
she´ll always worship you, even when she´s the one receiving
and not just vocally
she´ll touch anywhere she can reach
will comb her fingers through your hair
will cradle and stroke your cheek/s
stroke your back
massage your shoulders
just anywhere, yknow?
she needs that contact
(she might be a battle-hardened warrior, but she´ll turn into a huge sap softie for the right person)
she´s surprisingly sentimental too, afterwards
one might even call it poetic
"If my heart could still remember how to beat, it would race in your presence...my perfect little warrior."
Irina Denali
(I know that´s not from Twilight, but listen: I need me some gifs where Irina aka Maggie looks happy, pls and ty. 😭)
she´s big Mama
(yes, I´ll keep saying it because it´s important)
she finds your enthusiasm absolutely endearing
will giggle
hand covering her mouth and all
scrunching her nose
(she´s so precious)
unlike her sisters, she prefers a more private location
preferably in your shared bedroom
she might be convinced to do it just about anywhere in the house though, as long as it can be assured it´s free of prying eyes and ears
outside might work, but only if the area is rather secluded
(she´s a private person, aight? even more so when it comes to anything bedroom-related, like, excuse? it´s hard enough sharing you with her sisters, so she´s not gonna go and give some strangers a show that´s meant for her eyes alone-)
(...fine, and her sisters´)
(ugh)
vampires don´t get cramps or anything, but she still prefers lying down for it
it just makes the experience more intense for her because, despite being quite literally indestructible, she craves that vulnerability
it´s all about having someone you can bare your soul to, someone who gets you on a deep emotional level
she needs that connection to be able to fully let herself go
but when she does, oh boy-
she´ll make the sweetest sounds
whimpering, moaning, mewling - all of it rather high-pitched and shifting in volume, depending on how close she is
won´t stop running her fingers through your hair
will whisper sweet nothings
"My good girl...making me feel so good...I love you...so much."
will keep calling you her "good girl" all the way through because she loves seeing the effect it has on you
which affects her in return
which affects you in return
which affects-
.
.
.
Without further ado, onto the Village Ladies!
(Not sure if you were referring solely to the Dimi sisters? Anyhow, my thirsty ass added two more, hope you don´t mind. 🙃✌️)
Bela Dimitrescu
she´s a Momma´s girl
which means she's a mix between condescending and encouraging
(more condescending though)
will keep calling you her "little one"
she talks a lot actually
someone has to make sure you´re reminded of your place, after all
and of hers
(all that talking is more or less for her own ego tbh)
(she´s got a reputation to uphold, aight?)
(she´s more bark than bite, most of the time)
(except when she isn´t)
(that shit hurts like a bitch btw)
"Look at you, little one...d-down on your knees for me...as it s-should be..."
"You should count yourself l-lucky, little one...to be in a position d-desired by...many-" *proceeds to break into incoherent mumbling*
"S-Serve me well, little one, and I will...I will ask Mother to...k-keep you..."
(jokes on you, that was never a question)
you would never dare say it out loud (you rather enjoy living, tyvm), but the fact she´s such a tryhard will never not amuse you
it´s very obvious she´s trying to mimic her mother
trying to be all intimidating and shit
emphasis on trying
because she fails spectacularly at it
every time
she reminds you of a spitting kitten actually
(those claws hurt like a mf though)
Cassandra Dimitrescu
(I fucking love that shot. Look at that lazy ass bish. You just know she cba about pretty much anything.)
she´s a bit like Kate actually
minus the whole worshipping
which means she´ll pretty much curse the whole way through
also loves to dirty talk
"Fuck! Someone´s been practising, hm? F-Fucking the maids in secret, are you? Dirty little whore, of course you are...f-fuck! MORE!"
she´s loud
very
and proud
very
she loves letting the whole castle know just what the two of you are up to
especially because it annoys the heck outta her sisters
(especially Bela)
also has her sickle with her
always
(it´s her partner in crime, what did ya expect?)
she´ll use it as a way to ground herself
literally
sometimes, it misses you by a hair´s breadth when she goes about impaling the ground right next to you or the wall she´s leaning against
dw, she knows what she´s doing
...probably
listen-
there´s no way she´s gonna let such a dedicated little thing like you slip through her fingers
much less on accident
what a waste that would be
so I´d say you´re pretty safe
(for now)
Daniela Dimitrescu
she´s vibrating
literally
getting her to remain somewhat still is a struggle, lemme tell ya
she´s like a hyperactive puppy
and she chitters like a little birdie
sometimes, she´ll hiss like a spitting kitten too
with Dani, you got a whole farm in your bedroom, it has to be said
she´ll keep telling you how much she loves you
then she´ll switch to almost beheading you
accidently, ofc
she´s just so...excited, yknow?
and she has a rather tight grip on your hair indeed
oh wait, she´s back to telling you how much she loves you
...
it also becomes painfully clear to her that you haven´t said it back yet
"D-Don´t you love me?!"
...
"Mine, you´re mineminemineminemine-"
that´s her fav word btw
she´ll chant it like a mantra almost all the way through
sometimes, she´ll scream it too
"SAY THAT YOU´RE MINE!"
...
she´s back to telling you how she´s always dreamed of finding true love
all loving and tenderly
a stark contrast to the maniac who almost beheaded you only seconds ago
accidently, ofc
she loves you
"Y-You´re mine...my...my Princess Charming...aren´t you? J-Just like...in the books...yes? We shall have a...A SPRING WEDDING!"
...
ofc my love, whatever you say my love
(I luv u pls no kill)
Lady Alcina Dimitrescu
she´s Big Mama
literally
but also Scary Mama
literally
she´ll have them claws out just because
(mostly to intimidate you, let´s be real)
it makes her feel like the apex predator that she is as she reclines in that big chair of hers
it´s massive, really
(we still talking about the chair?)
one leg propped up as she´s being served like a true queen
as it should be
she´ll watch you with a mix of endearment and loftiness (much like in the gif)
dancing the tips of her claws along your back
or stroking them up and down
or running them through your hair when she´s having an extra soft moment
(those are rare)
her other hand is occupied holding a glass of wine
(duh)
swirling it occasionally
taking a sip here and there
in the meantime, she´ll be fantasizing about all the ways she could end your life
(shit turns dark rather quickly in this household)
a swipe of her hand would suffice...
it´s about power, aight?
thinking about the power she holds drives her wild
she also loves taunting you
"Sssuch a nimble little mouse..."
"Or perhaps...masochistic would be a more fitting term, hm? So eager to ssserve...a dragon..."
you won´t catch her moaning and whimpering like a mutt in heat
instead, she´ll draw out some of the syllables
or hiss
sometimes, she´ll pause in between words (probs the most apparent sign that what you´re doing is affecting her a lot more than she lets on)
when she´s getting closer, the occasional grunt might escape too
more like a growl, really
however, despite her aloof demeanor, she can´t deny that she finds your devotion most...charming
that´s probs why she keeps you around in the first place
cause we all know Big Mama likes getting her ego stroked
among other things
Mother Miranda
oh boy bird
she´s Birb Mama
feathers and all
she´s also crazy Mama
crazy eyes
crazy smile
yes, she does smile
occasionally
it´s more a smirk, tbh
she does so enjoy it when her devoted little followers show her just how devoted they are
she´ll wear them robes ofc
parted just enough to allow access
feathers poking out here and there
gotta be careful not to swallow one or smt
that´d be hella uncomfortable for sure
anyhow-
you´re in the church
(duh)
but the things going on there are far from holy
she´ll stand before you
more like you´ll kneel before her
as you should be
no hands
you ain´t touching none of that
divinity shall not be sullied by the likes of you
(...we´re not gonna talk about the fact you´re sullying her alright in this very moment)
just like Big Mama, she´ll taunt you
"Is this what you wish for in your prayers at night, hm?"
running her claws (aka her rings) through your hair
"Tell me, child...does this village harbor more corrupted souls such as yourself?"
grip getting tighter
and tighter
claws starting to dig in-
*hiss*
the sound of pain evokes a small chuckle
her grip loosens a smidge in response though
(see? she´s a huge softie :3)
"Perhaps I shall cleanse it, hm? Liberate it from its sinners... What do you think, little bird?"
it´s a rhetorical question ofc
(thank fuck)
Miranda does as Miranda damn well pleases
(the idea of Miranda threatening to erase a whole village while she´s being served is so real though)
she´s very composed, all things considered
("all things" being: you eating her out as if your life depends on it)
(I mean...)
it´s almost like she´s talking about the weather or smt, honestly
then she removes her rings
the only indication you´re nearing the grand finale
now she can actually hold on tight without having to worry about impaling your pretty head
very much so
shit hurts so good like hell
but it´s also a precaution
the thing is...Miranda might not be vocal about her feelings
but she doesn´t have to be
her transforming is all the confirmation you need
it´s her way of letting go, you could say
she won´t go all out though
just parts of herself
her fingers being one of them
(yall are familiar with her mutated form, right? them fingers be going on for days)
hence, the precaution
she has lost quite a few rings that way
she´s grown rather fond of the current set
it´s got black tips and all
🖤💅🏻
.
.
.
Yall noticed how it got more unhinged as we progressed? The slow descent into madness was real with this one, LMAO. 💀
I could feel the obsession starting to creep back in with every word, lel. Dani might have just become my fav among the daughters. :3
Thanks a lot for your ask! I had a lot of fun with this one. 💋
#tumblr asks#twilight#the twilight saga#resident evil 8#re8#resident evil village#re village#tanya denali#kate denali#irina denali#bela dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu#mother miranda
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TROUBLE ALMOST ALL MY LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader
Description: The ONE time the BAU needs you + the FOUR times you need them.
word count: 24k (what on earth was I thinking)
trigger warnings: mentions of spencers addictions + use + side affects. MOMMY ISSUES thankyou ambassador Prentiss. hostage scene + injuries. mentions of forced/pressured marriage. fem!reader. reader and Emily struggle to bond.
authors note: We never meet Emily's dad nor do we see a picture so while reader is given a nickname of Bugsy, she still keeps her real name (no use of y/n) and is given ZERO physical descriptors. ALL of my fem!readers should feel included here, let me know if this is not the case! also I don't speak any language besides English however she does speak many because of her mom, so I really tried to get it right, message me if I'm being stupid!!
series masterlist | next chapter
[this] means its spoken in another language.
—
‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,
I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’
1. the one where you become a translator.
“I’ll make some calls, I may still have some friends in the Eastern countries,” Ambassador Prentiss announced to the room, standing from her place on the plush sofa.
A case had landed quite literally in Emily’s lap when her mother had come by that morning asking for Hotch, a Russian migrant looking for her father with a ransom note and a sliced off finger shoved through her mailbox, wedding ring still attached.
It wasn’t every day Emily wished she’d brushed up on her Russian, but today of all days she was struggling to keep up.
“We don’t have much time, we need a division of labour,” Hotch’s serious face settled, the time constraints making him just that bit more dictatorial, “Morgan, someone needs to go to the Chernus’s house in Baltimore in case they are contacted again,”
“What about the language barrier?” Derek raised, smoothing a hand over the short scruff of his beard, “We can’t have the unsub speaking with the family directly. He could say anything to them without us knowing,”
Bugsy would hate to admit she fit the criteria for youngest daughter of a workaholic mother and distant father to a tea, but Emily would say different.
Elizabeth Prentiss had never been a warm woman; Emily used to tell her the scowl was a side effect of the overplucking of her eyebrows, not the serious nature of her job. Her youngest girl once said her mother’s lips looked like she’d sucked a lemon. Of course they admired her work, but world peace meant jack shit to a little girl wanting nothing more than a mother’s hug.
Despite the fact she’d pushed away her husband and both her daughters in favour of her career, the one useful thing about being the Ambassador’s daughter wasn’t just the money, but the widespread culture the girls had been crammed full of since they could so much as beg for a sippy cup.
“Baltimore, you say?” Emily asked Hotch with a somewhat doubtful wince, “I mean you could always-”
“Absolutely not,” Her mother cut her off, rubbing the stress lines already creasing her forehead at the very notion of her other daughter, despite the fact Emily hadn’t even finished her thought.
Emily’s sigh was a reflex, the years of her mother cutting her off sparking the frustration on instinct.
“She lives right in the city, Mother, it can’t hurt to have her just talk for them-” Emily tried to bargain, only for the sharp mouthed Ambassador shoot her a frown.
“End of discussion, Emily,” Elizabeth snipped, her manicured fingernails twitching with annoyance, “Your sister is much too young for an assignment so serious,”
Emily rolled her eyes with a scoff, as if the two had slipped back into the role of rebellious teenager and scathing mother without much thought.
“She's twenty-two, mom. She’s getting her masters degree for Christ sakes, she’s not ‘too young’,” The dark headed woman fought back, clicking her pen a few times as if the spring loaded ink would take away some of the temper Elizabeth seemed to flare up.
Her mother’s lips pursed, in the way Bugsy hated, in the way that meant she was going to be mean.
“Immature may have been a better word, then,” She replied, and Emily seemed to pause. She couldn’t argue with that. “Or perhaps lazy, or puerile; callow, wild, irresponsible. Would you like me to name more?”
“Asinine would be a good term; deriving from the Latin asinus it not only means foolish, but to be stubborn and lazy like an ass,” Spencer input helpfully to the Ambassador, only for his bright smile to fade when he saw the daggers Emily stared at him with, “Sorry, I love word games,” He muttered into his lap.
“Asinine. Perfect, Dr Reid,” Elizabeth said, and Emily could only roll her eyes harder.
Hotch huffed, the victim’s daughter watching between the two women’s quarrel with wet eyes, the ice box with her father’s finger clenched tightly in her lap, the cold of the limb bleeding into his own gaze.
“Unfortunately, Ambassador Prentiss, despite just how asinine your daughter might be, Morgan is right. Having the Unsub possibly speaking with the family without us understanding what he’s saying could prove fatal,” He explained, ignoring the way the older woman’s mouth scrunched in bitterness. They didn’t need to be profilers to see that despite how tempered the relationship between Emily and her mother was, a tension seemed to fall between the women the moment the younger Prentiss was mentioned.
Spencer was sure he was the only person who even knew Emily had a little sister.
“Very well, but don’t be surprised when you find your hands full of the girl,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head as she led the victims, a mother and daughter that seemed to cling to one another for comfort as if to rub salt in her matriarchal wound, into the break room to get away from the frosty atmosphere that now lingered around the table.
Emily sighed, picking around her fingernails the way she did when she was bothered.
“I’m going to hate these next words that are gonna come out of my mouth,” She started with a long exhale, “But my mother’s right. Bugsy is a handful. Just try not to get her wound up, that girl smells fear,” She looked to Reid who seemed none the wiser, “I’m talking to you, wonder boy. She’ll eat you up and spit you right back out,”
Spencer gulped quietly.
Derek only chuckled, slapping a hand down onto Emily’s shoulder, “Relax, Prentiss. Your mom’s just got you all worried. Need I remind you I grew up with two sisters? This will be a piece of cake,”
–
Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan.
Loud, heavy metal music jumped through the wooden door, so loud Morgan worried his three polite knocks would go unheard as the two of them waited outside her dorm for her to answer. Morgan was about to knock again, figuring the music had drowned out the first lot, when the door swung open and a frown the spitting image of Emily’s stressed expression met their gaze.
She looked so different to their Prentiss, but the way she seemed already scorned by the two of them told them they had the right woman.
“Miss Prentiss?” Morgan asked formally, though he felt the warmth grow when he caught sight of a beat up friendship bracelet around her wrist amongst newer gold chains, five white blocks spelling out her sister’s name pulling tight on her skin, as if she’d quickly outgrown the thing but hadn’t the heart to remove it.
It was then that he and Reid seemed to both reel back slightly at the fact she was standing in a large shirt, ratty around the edges, and what seemed to be a pair of men's boxers covering her bottom half, clearly not suspecting particularly important visitors.
She looked him head to toe with a frown, a dozen piercings in her ears, her hair highlighted with streaks of cardinal red, as if he was the one confronting her in his underwear, before she moved onto Spencer, who’s face seemed to be getting hotter by the second as he forced his eyes away from her bare legs.
“Are you guys strippers? Did someone send strippers to my door?” She asked, strawberry gum smacking between her lips as her gaze seemed to finish mulling over Spencer’s tall form and returned to Morgan.
“Emily sent us.” Reid said shortly, the music blaring in his ears making it difficult to focus on what it was she was saying, “As co-workers, no-not strippers. We’re with the FBI,”
He hated loud noises anyway, cringed at the sound of particularly cutting rock songs, but since he’d developed his … problem, the dilaudid had him feeling like someone was clawing at his skull, tugging his brain through his ears.
“Emily sent you here?” She asked with a scoff, looking the two up and down again. They both easily caught the way her face hardened, “Are pigs flying today or something?”
“We’re here to ask for your help on a case,” Spencer rushed through a sweaty brow, “Emily said you’d be able to act as a translator for us and some Russian citizens who are being targeted,”
She sighed sceptically, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame, “Any strippers or non-strippers can fraud an ID. Emily’s name was in the paper just the other week. I’m gonna need a little more than that,”
She keeps track of her sister despite the supposed distance between them. Spencer was quick to profile, his mind whirring at all the ways she reminded him of her sister down to the way she raised her eyebrows expectantly at them.
“Emily was born October twelfth, 1970 at 7:12am, graduated from Garfield High School in 1989,” Spencer said as if reporting the weather, her eyes narrowing in on him all the more coldly, “She attended Chesapeake Bay University and speaks six languages, as I expect you do from moving so often with your mother. She coined your nickname Bugsy from your childhood love of ladybugs, which she said you grew out of by the time you turned eleven yet the name stuck, though you still like counting the spots to identify their species. Your parents split when you were five and your father moved in with his now wife, born September ninth-”
“Alright- alright. What are you, living in her walls?” She interrupted incredulously, before turning her attention to Derek who seemed to hide a chuckle with a cough. “Either you really are a stripper or you’re a terrible friend,”
“She loves Kurt Vonnegut,” Derek held his finger as if to prove her entirely wrong, although not much else came to him. Maybe he was a bad friend, he thought guiltily, or maybe he simply lacked an eidetic memory like the wonder boy next to him, who had been about to tell her how old she was when Emily’s pet betta fish died, “Slaughterhouse 5?”
Rolling her eyes, she grunted at them, kicking her door open for them to enter.
“Everyone loves Vonnegut; only losers under a rock dislike Vonnegut,” She drawled, edging back into her room, the heavy bass rock growing in volume as they followed her in, “I’ll be ready in a second- Emily’s always bugging me about wearing pants,” She said vaguely, scanning around the dirty dorm, until she found one particular pair of jeans laying half under her bed, quickly yanking them up her legs. “Come in, come in.”
She flicked the speakers way down to which Spencer took a breath of relief. His eyes fell to the laptop that had been set up on her desk, the five different textbooks littered around the spare space, energy drinks and empty mugs filling the cracks where he could barely see the generic white of the table top, his nose crinkling. About as gross as he’d expect from a college student.
“Emily said your Russian was pretty good,” Derek made conversation, his eyes wandering over the various posters plastered over her walls, some fraying round the edges from where she had likely been moved from bedroom to bedroom when the Prentiss’s inevitably had to move country again.
“Yeah,” She snarked, pulling a nicer top over her head, “Kinda tends to happen when you live in Russia,”
Morgan raised his eyebrows to Spencer who seemed to give him the same look back, though the latter was biting back a snicker at her words.
How in the hell was she the Ambassador’s daughter?
–
“This all involves Russian Mafia, it’s really beefed up here the last ten years or so,” Agent Cramer, a tall, slim man who looked entirely overwhelmed by the workload on his shoulders reported, as she listened intently.
She had been somewhat de-briefed in the car, Emily messaging her for the first time since Christmas, the message a simple: “Have you met with Morgan and Reid yet? Make sure to put on pants,” to which she sent her a thumbs up emoji. She didn’t have much to say to her at the moment, barely even knew her sister anymore.
“It started off mainly in New York and LA but they send lieutenants from the old country,” Cramer went on, and she caught Reid scratching his arm beneath his shirt. She knew it was mozzy weather, and he was already under the blaring sun in a little sweater, it wouldn’t surprise her if he felt a bit prickly.
“Pahkans,” She interrupted, the man named Gideon shooting her a glance as she dug through her purse.
“Your Mom do much work about the Mafia?” He asked, as she produced a clear nail varnish.
“Here and there, I had to sit with her in her office for a whole Summer once when I got caught sneaking out. Picked up a few things, though,” She said, holding the polish out to Spencer, nodding to his arm, “Here. Supposed to help bug bites,”
He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, perhaps question her sources for such an old wives tale, but he stopped himself quickly, taking the varnish out of her hand with a dejected nod.
“Thankyou,” He muttered, shoving it in his pocket.
Three months he’d been in this rabbit hole. She had noticed it in a matter of hours.
“They open up branch offices in other cities. Baltimore, Saint Louis, Chicago, Dallas, the list goes on,” Cramer added, nodding at her words, “They’re mainly offshoots of the Odessa Mafia and they’re especially tough to crack from a law enforcement standpoint. I mean beside being well organised with sophisticated technical equipment, there’s Vory v Zakone to contend with,”
“The thieves code, eighteen principles they live by,” Reid jumped in before she could, to which she nodded as Gideon looked to her for more.
“It means ‘thief in law’, or ‘thief with code’. It's a system of repeatedly jailed convicts that have been crowned or ‘made’ with a strict list of ideals, breaking them usually means death,” She explained, kicking a stone between her feet.
“It’s like bible to these guys. We’re not gonna be turning any of them informer anytime soon,” Cramer said. Gideon seemed to tune the three of them out however, his gaze locking on the house across the street, where a curtain twitched, and a man’s face appeared in the window, watching the crime scene with guilt.
“Then we’ll need a witness who will talk,” Gideon replied, heading straight towards the neighbour who seemed just a little too invested in what was happening, much more than a concerned third party should be. Though, she had barely noticed, digging through her purse once more for chapstick.
“So, you study Russian or something?” Cramer asked as she applied it gently, Spencer swore he could smell the cherry flavour from where he stood beside her.
“I lived in Moscow until I was six, moved back to France, then back to Italy, then Algeria for a bit. Bounced around Europe for a bit longer, but I still speak better Russian than anything else,” She clarified, and she saw Cramer’s eyebrows shoot up, “Military brat except I don’t get the cool discount at the store,”
“You must have had a lot of friends though, going to so many schools,” Spencer added, and though there was nothing teasing about his tone, she laughed sharply anyway.
“You’re funny,” She snarked, but smiled at him anyway.
Spencer had never been called funny in his life. ‘Funny looking’, ‘funny sounding’ maybe, but never funny.
In fact he was so confused by what she had meant, whether it had been a taunt or genuine that he almost missed the sound of the whole street locking their front doors, dead bolting their lives away when a black prius, an expensive one at that, pulled through the street and swerved into park next to them.
“Guess who,” Cramer bit, her eyes ripping away from where Gideon had the door slammed in his face.
Detective Cramer aged by about five years when two tall men got out of the luxury car, opening the door for a shorter man in the back seat, their faces thunder.
“You familiar with them?” She asked, shoulder brushing against Spencer as she turned to watch the men approach, entirely aware of the .9mm on each of their hips.
“Arseny Lysowsky,” The detective identified, his voice cold, eyeing the two men who flanked the leader, towering over them.
“Agent Cramer, how are you?” Lysowsky smiled at him, which oddly enough seemed somewhat real, as he also took stock of the three other people around him. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, noting her lack of gun and badge, trying to decipher if she was local or just a very unprepared fed.
“Lysowsky, what brings you out?” Cramer asked, a tightness to his tone, his hand all too eager to grab his own pistol.
“I heard Chernuses had problems,” He kept it vague, didn’t reveal too much, and looked back at the victim’s house with a scorned frown.
“How did you hear that?” Gideon challenged, stance unwavering as the mob leader turned to meet his cold gaze.
“And you are?” He asked, a sinister smile on his face that flipped her stomach. She didn’t like the tension that had overcome the little patch of sidewalk they took up, and she was quick to notice how Spencer moved towards her.
He, by far, wasn’t the best shot on the team, but he was sure Hotch and Prentiss would have his and Morgan’s heads if any harm came to her.
“Churneses said they hadn’t told anyone,” Agent Gideon ignored his question, hands firmly planted on his hips. If he was unnerved by the criminal in front of him, he never showed it, not even when Lysowsky’s grin widened horribly.
“It is a small community. Word gets out,” He said simply, looking past him to the neighbours house that had kicked Gideon to the curb, “Are you a friend of Gorban’s?”
A second of silence passed between them, neither of them backing down from the moral standoff they’d engaged in.
“Mr Gorban wouldn’t talk to me,” Gideon admitted, and Arseny only smiled again, flicking a look at the house behind him, as if hearing his dog had obeyed without command.
“Would you like me to talk to him for you?” The threat was there clear as day, clear enough to have Gideon’s eyes narrow, “I can’t promise something will come of it,”
“You!” In a second, Natalya, the victim she’d briefly met when Morgan had pulled up around an hour before, had stormed out of her house, her black kitten heels clicking against the concrete, “Where’s my father? He has my father!”
“Wait a minute,” Derek called, restraining her where she stood, trying to pull his muscled arm from her shoulder, “Do you know he has your father?”
“He’s responsible for all of this,” She spat, her eyes cold as she glared at the three men with vitriol hate, “Why everyone’s afraid, him and his animals,” She threw a hand up to his bodyguards that seemed barely contained by Cramer’s silencing hand.
“I am only here to help,” Lysowsky replied, confident and calm in his words, though not as taunting as the agents would have thought, as if he truly cared for her.
A vast difference to the sadistic mob boss Cramer’s team had painted him to be.
“Help?” She laughed woefully, tears in her eyes, “You’re a dog,”
“Natalya,” Arseny said in a warning, the way a teacher would to a student, as her breath rattled in her chest through a weep.
“How exactly can you help them?” Bugsy braved to speak, Gideon and Reid both flashing her a look. She’d always had trouble holding her tongue.
Lysowsky turned his attention to her then, his eyes running down her figure, still deciphering whether she was armed; she looked much too young to be an agent.
“In any way that they’d like me to, darling,” He replied, the disdain in her frown clearly not deterring him in the slightest, though again the act of concern held up in his own grimace, “As I said this is a small community. If one is in pain, we’re all in pain.”
Natalya weeped behind Morgan, sniffling as the boss made his way over to her, “Natalya, [you didn’t have to bring in outsiders],”
The younger woman’s ears pricked up as he spoke in his native language, Spencer’s eyes flicking to her from behind his sunglasses.
“[Let me help you],” He continued, taking a step towards Natalya, unthreatening yet she saw Morgan tense, his fingers twitching towards his gun.
“[My family will never come to you for help],” Natalya hissed back, also in Russian, her face contorted in disgust, “[Get away from my house],”
“[You are not right, Natalya],” He replied, yet again the concern in his eyes was either genuine or very well faked, “[You have made the wrong decision],”
Taking a step away from the victim that wept with a scorned sneer, he looked back to the agents, noting the way the youngest of them glared at him hotly, before retreating to his car.
“What did he say? Did he threaten you, Natalya?” Morgan asked, the woman watching the group of men drive away, as if Mr Chernus wasn’t still missing and they hadn’t just bumped themselves up to number one of the suspects list. “Talk to us and we can do something about it,”
“He said I made the wrong decision,” She said wetly, frustration turning on Derek as he pushed her for an answer, “I hope I didn’t,”
With that she stormed off back into her house, the same stomping of her kitten heels in her wake, leaving the agents to all look between one another before they simultaneously turned to look at Bugsy, questions hovering on all of their lips.
“What did he say exactly?” Gideon asked without frills, a hand rubbing his brow. Relaying the information, the men’s faces all drew into frowns as they heard Lysowsky’s parting statement. Gideon huffed, turning to Morgan and gesturing for him to follow Natalya inside.
“Morgan, keep an eye on her, Reid and I are going to Cramer’s office to look over the files,” He looked at her then, worry lines littering his otherwise friendly face, damn near scowling as she looked over at him, “You are here to interpret, you understand? You do not speak to the suspects, that’s our job.” He growled, watching her with disappointment, the same tone a father used when scolding a petulant child, “Do you have any idea how much danger you could put yourself in? These guys won’t hesitate to take you out the second we’re not around, kid,”
“But-” She started with a bite, though her whole fight left her when he silenced her with a raised hand.
“Buts are for cigarettes, kiddo,” He interrupted, and Spencer winced slightly, knowing he’d heard that one a few hundred times when he’d first started under Gideon and had yet to mature entirely. Reid watched something rebellious flare in her eyes, and he worried for a moment she might just slap his boss for the patronising tone he took, “Just keep your mouth shut, you’re doing great so far,”
She opened her mouth to protest, only to then register his words entirely and stay silent once more, appreciating his praise with a guilty smile. For once, she listened.
–
The grandfather clock chimed to tell them it was merely 11am; two hours until the unsub would start cutting more if they didn’t get the ransom fee, two hours to figure out who wanted Natalya’s family to suffer.
Said woman paced her living room at the sound of the hour, as Bugsy picked over the knick knacks on her fireplace, a small smile teasing her lips when she saw a picture of three small children grinning toothily at the camera.
She had never gotten any photo’s similar, Emily being fourteen years older. The majority of their childhood photos consisted of a very grumpy teenager holding her baby sister that seemed to squirm in the tight, formal dresses Elizabeth Prentiss had forced them into, identical scowls on their faces as they were made to sit for the picture.
There were some good memories, ones where Emily let herself be a sister and not a mom, where she would put makeup on her for fun and do her hair, let her have all the clothes out her wardrobe she thought looked nice, reading to her before bed, even letting her sister keep her pet corn snake when she left home for good.
But now, it seemed like she was too caught up in her super serious grown up job to give a shit that her sister lived just an hour away. Still messaged each other for holidays, but the last few times she’d braved a call to the eldest Prentiss, it had gone unanswered. They argued the majority of the time they spoke, or there was an awkward long silence in between words, whichever was worse, but they each knew the other would come running if they were to ever need them so desperately.
“Are you hungry? I could make something?” Natalya offered kindly, Derek having a poke through her collection of books that sat on the end table, though he’d have a tough job reading them as she’d already caught most of them were in her home language.
“Oh, no thanks. I’m fine,” He replied with a small smile, putting down the books to calm the clearly on edge woman that looked to the twenty-something year old hopefully.
She shook her head, “I’m good, thanks,” which seemed to deflate her entirely as she sat next to Derek with a sigh.
“I guess I’m like my mother. When she’s upset, she cooks,” Natalya said with a sad huff of a laugh, running a hand through her short, dark hair.
“Yeah, mine does too. I think that’s just a mom thing,” He replied, and Bugsy felt the two of them look at her as her finger traced the old brass ornaments gently, “How about you, baby Prentiss?”
She snorted, “You’re kidding, right?” smiling bitterly, “My mom never cooked for us, she said we needed to figure it out for ourselves rather than relying on the staff. Didn’t stop her from trying to end world hunger though,”
It wasn’t lost to Morgan the way her eyes trained on the picture of Natalya and her mother, cuddled together with genuine love in their embrace, the snarky humour as she spoke, the same longing Emily seemed almost too good at hiding from them.
“Your mother is a great woman,” Natalya complimented, though she missed the way the girl’s face steeled over, chewing her bottom lip as if to stop herself from snapping at the woman who meant well. She said nothing. “Where is your mother?” She turned her attention back to Derek who seemed the more talkative of the two of them.
“Chicago. That’s where I’m from,” He replied, watching Bugsy turn away from the two of them to inspect more of the Chernus’s trinkets on their walls.
“I’m from Dolgoprudny. Just North of Moscow.” Natalya replied. Opening her mouth to add something else, she was cut off by a knock at the door and the three of them froze in their place.
“Are you expecting someone?” Morgan asked Natalya in a hushed tone, reaching for his gun and heading for the door.
She shook her head, “No,” She whispered back. Morgan pulled the curtain back the smallest inch to see a small blonde boy staring back, a box in his hands and a bored look on his face.
It all happened too fast from there, Natalya opening the door for the neighbourhood kid, opening the box to see a decapitated ear, the blood fresh and pooling in the bottom of the box. It couldn’t have been taken longer than an hour or so ago, unless they were keeping the parts on ice.
Bugsy’s hand slapped over her mouth, Natalya’s scream piercing through her as she shoved the box into Derek’s hands, fleeing to the toilet, and she heard the woman retching. Part of her felt the same nausea settle in her stomach, looking away from the body part with a wince as Derek got straight on the phone to Gideon.
“They didn’t wait, man. They sent a box with-” He swallowed thickly, “With Mr Chernus’s ear inside.”
Gideon replied, and whatever it was, it had Derek looking back to her. He agreed, hanging up the phone and rooting through his pockets, producing a set of rattling keys, holding them out for you between the tips of his fingers.
“Gideon wants you, kid. He said they’re at the Little Kiev restaurant, they’re going to talk to Lysowsky,” Morgan said, grimacing as he held the ear away from her, “You sure you’ll be okay to drive?”
“I’d rather be on the road than look at what’s in that box,” She said in disgust, taking the keys and heading out to the car.
She thought it best for everyone she didn’t tell him she hadn’t yet got her licence as she made her way over to the restaurant.
-
“Reid and I will do the talking, just see if anything he’s saying connects with Vory v zakone, think you got that?” Gideon instructed her the second she got out of the car, taking the keys and handing them back to Reid who gave her a small nod.
“We think the reason it was Mr Chernus who was targeted has something to do with the code,” Reid explained, his hands in his pockets as the three of them approached the restaurant, “You said earlier you understood the tenants,”
“Why me, though? I thought I was just translating?” She repeated Gideon’s earlier words, almost cocky that they needed her.
“Lysowsky would feel the need to show face in front of men like Morgan and Cramer, even in front of Natalya since she lives locally. Between the three of us, he had less reputation to uphold, less so with a young woman like yourself,” Reid added, holding the door open for her to go in front.
And so there she was, trailing behind Gideon and Reid over to where Lysowsky sipped a spoonful of borscht, as she tried not to marvel at the grandeur of the establishment inside. Clearly, Arsney had money to build a place like this, and wasn’t afraid to be flashy about it either, that much was apparent from the other clientele that tended to their beers around their own tables, Rolex watches and designer shoes adorning nearly every one of them. She hated to think of how many ears or fingers those suits had cost.
“Would you like something to eat?” He asked, a chunk of bread in his hand dipping into the thick sauce, seemingly unbothered that they were there, “This borscht is exquisite, it’s my mother’s old country recipe,”
“Didn’t you forsake all your relatives when you swore the thieves code?” Reid asked, which she guessed was hit foot in to get Lysowsky to talk.
“I didn’t forsake her recipes,” Lysowsky replied with a shrug, looking to her where she seemed to be staring at his plate, “Borscht?”
She shook her head, her nose wrinkling, “Much preferred stroganoff, mom used to force me to have borscht to make sure I ate my veggies,”
His eyebrows raised, surprise written over his face, before he gave a short laugh.
“[Where are you from]?” He asked in his mother tongue, gesturing for the three of them to sit down, though his eyes lit up as he watched her carefully.
“[I was born in DC, but my mother worked in Moscow for a few years],” She answered shortly, and he seemed to find it even funnier that the near child they’d brought along on their case spoke as fluently as he did.
Laughing with a heavy hand smacking on the table, he gestured to a nearby waiting staff to come over.
“What are you having then, borscht for the gentle man?” He looked at Reid and Gideon, the former shaking his head while Gideon nodded with an awkward smile.
“I’d love a taste,” He said, though any enthusiasm seemed to have drained out of his voice.
“And what is the little lady having?” Lysowsky asked, his eyes falling back to her, as she straightened in her seat.
She chanced a quick glance to Gideon, who nodded at her to play his game. She had not expected to be so deep in criminal territory when they’d said they needed a translator, and truly they hadn’t planned on getting her in the field until they realised she would know much more about this than they would.
“Do you have sharlotka?” She asked, returning his smile wearily as he clicked at the waiter who all but bolted to the kitchen.
“A sweet tooth. I like it,” Arseny replied, shovelling a heap of beets into his mouth, “Our favourite was always Leningradsky,”
“Ours?” She prompted, giving a polite thanks to the waiter who returned too quickly with a slice of cake. She caught Spencer glancing at the bowl with intrigue, the hunger clear on the quiet man’s face. Gently pushing the bowl and clean spoon towards him, he flicked a look up at her, “Apple cake,” She whispered, sending him a small smile, “Really yummy with the sugar on top,”
“Mine and my mother’s,” Arseny replied, though Gideon and Reid both caught how he paused before he replied, as if he had to think about the answer he was giving; the oldest tell that it wasn’t entirely true, “We didn’t have much when I was a boy, but that was always our dessert of choice,”
She stopped for a mere second, missing the moment when Spencer spooned the tiniest bite of the cake into his mouth, trying to ignore the way his tongue exploded in the sweet, fruit taste. He hadn’t eaten anything properly in days, and maybe that was why it tasted so good, but more likely it was just the fact that everything sweet tasted even better when he was on his come downs.
“We need to talk, Arseny,” Gideon interrupted, ignoring the way Spencer pined to go back in for a second mouthful, but chose to hand the bowl back to her with a small smile.
“We are on first name basis?” Lysowsky asked, shaking his head, and she took a small bite of the sweet cake for herself, “I still don’t even know who you are,”
“I think I understand something about this,” Gideon replied, his thumbs tapping together, the waiter returning with his borscht, “You have a problem,”
“I do?” The pahkan titled his head at the agent, the annoyance clear on his face.
“That’s why you came to the Chernus’ house this morning,” Gideon answered, unbothered as he began to scoop the borscht onto the spoon, the apple cake in her own mouth going down a treat.
She kept her head down, took tiny bites of the dessert that certainly tasted like a fresh baked sharlotka. But her thoughts lingered on what Lysowsky had said, about his own favourite pudding.
It made no sense that he would have ever tasted Leningradsky shortbread, not for the time that he was born, nor with the amount of money he claimed his family lacked. Infact, the way he fully pronounced his vowels, the akanye, the stress he put on certain parts of his words, all pointed to the same dialect you’d heard back in Moscow, more central than anything else.
So how on earth would he have eaten the so-called ‘Royal Cake’ that had only been made eight hours from there, in the town it grew its name from.
There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing.
“A man like me?” She tuned back into the conversation, swallowing another mouthful down as Gideon took another bite himself, though it seemed the topic had turned sour as Arseny wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin.
“Four watchtowers and a convict signifies a stay in prison,” Spencer cut in, nodding towards the tattoos branded across his knuckles, “Each one of those crosses symbolises an individual sentence,”
“Twenty three years in prison in the Ural mountains,”
But she was still stuck on what it was she was missing. It had been such an odd thing to lie about, particularly when he’d even admitted himself that they hadn’t had much money, so he clearly hadn’t been lying to fake a reputation.
So why lie?
She was ripped out of her stumped silence when Natalya entered the restaurant, her voice grabbing the men’s attention immediately.
“Mr Lysowsky. You said you could help me,” She said, her purse over her shoulder and her own car keys gripped tightly in her hand as if she’d all but thrown herself out the vehicle to get there faster.
“Don’t you already have help,” Lysowsky snapped, clearly Gideon had dug under his skin enough to garner a reaction.
“I made a mistake,” Natalya replied, barely meeting Bugsy’s gaze as she stared at her from her seat at the table. “I talked to my father on the phone,”
The girl frowned at her, “That’s a lie,” It came out before she could hold herself, brows furrowed at whatever it was she was trying to pull. Gideon said her name in a reprimand, though he too was looking at the woman as if she’d grown a second head.
“Thankyou for coming, but I don’t need your help,” The woman met her confused look with a saddened expression, nodding to her solemnly.
Leave it alone, she seemed to be saying, there’s nothing more I want you to do.
And with that, the two of them left the restaurant, Natalya walking by his side obediently, her purse tucked in close under her arm, as Morgan and Cramer filed in from the parking lot, watching their only leads drive away without a fight.
–
The team were quick to head back to Natalya’s home, only to find the ear missing and the finger gone too, the only evidence left of any crime being committed leaving with the victim’s daughter herself.
“She’s not here, and the garbage was never taken out,” Morgan said with a grimace as he walked down the front steps to meet the four of them on the sidewalk.
“Her dad just went missing, surely we can cut the girl some slack-” Bugsy words were hidden in a huff, rolling your eyes at the man who cut a glance to her.
“No, no. When Hotch first talked to us, he said she noticed her father’s car in the driveway when she took the garbage out,” Morgan explained, his shades blocking the way the cogs turned behind his dark eyes.
“Right?” Reid asked, his own sunglasses now covering his eyes that winced at the brightness, surrounding them.
“Garbage can in the kitchen is completely full, she never took it out.”
“She lied,” Gideon said with finality, the penny beginning to drop for him too.
“She could be half way back to Dolgo-whatever by now,” Morgan scoffed, his arms smacking against his side as the lightbulb went off over her head, the final puzzle piece falling into place.
“Dolgoprudny?” Spencer asked, exchanging a glance with Cramer, “Isn’t that where Lysowsky’s from-”
“Yes, YES, of course!” She exclaimed, grabbing onto Spencer’s arm as he spoke.
He looked at her with wide eyes, not that she could see since his shades blocked the way, only to feel her shake him harder in the midst of her enthusiasm. Part of him wanted to rip his arm out of her grip, waiting for the sickness to crawl up his throat at a strangers germs touching him, but the oddest part of him reasoned she had the same germs as Emily did, that the fifty percent DNA the women shared negated the fact she was a stranger, just as it did when he met Jack. Jack had Hotch germs. Bugsy had Emily’s. He didn’t feel so sick thinking of it like that.
“I knew I was missing something,” She said, turning to Gideon, “He was lying before, about his favourite dessert. There was no way he could have had Leningradsky with his mother. Given his age, at that time in Soviet Russia, shortbread was incredibly expensive, only extremely wealthy families could have eaten it. That, and given the Central dialect he speaks in, I’d pinpointed he lives somewhere near or around Moscow, which means there was no way he was eating that cake considering it was only ever baked in one shop at first, one way up in Leningrad, where St Petersburg is now, like nine hours away from Moscow-”
“What’s your point?” Cramer asked, tired of the somewhat slew of thoughts she’d been saving until she knew for sure what she meant.
“Before when he said it was ‘our favourite’, I don’t think he was talking about him and his mother,” She explained, looking to see if Spencer at least understood what she was getting at.
“It was him and his own child…” Spencer finished, as Morgan’s phone began ringing.
“Yeah, what?” He asked, the frustration clear in his tone that they were all still without the evidence needed to pin it on Lysowsky, “You’re sure? Uh-huh. Okay, thanks doll,”
The four of them looked at him expectantly as he nodded to her, “Garcia just got into the bank’s system, somebody wired 500 thousand dollars into the account ten minutes ago,”
“Who wired it?” Spencer asked, though he was still reeling from the way she’d touched him, the way her voice went up about five octaves and a dozen decibels.
“She didn’t say, but the name on the account is Lyov Fulenko. She says that’s Lysowsky’s wife’s maiden name. Fulenko.” Morgan replied, and her brows furrowed.
“Why did she bring us into this?” Gideon asked, though the solemn look on his face said he already knew, “Because she needed to put pressure on the other victim,”
Gideon headed towards Mr Gorban’s house once more, though it was clear he had already sketched out in his head who was their unsub and Natalya’s involvement, he simply needed the confirmation.
Morgan clapped a hand on her back, “Nice job, baby Prentiss. Those were some mean profiling skills out there,”
She frowned at him, scoffing, “I’m not a profiler, that’s Emily’s job. It was just basic linguistics really; more a display of how I need to lay off cake for a while.”
The man kissed his teeth with a grin, “Don’t put yourself down. What’s your degree even in?”
She shrugged, picking under her nails for something to do, “Individualised genomics and health.” She said as if it were child’s play, though Spencer’s head shot to her.
“Biotechnology?” He asked, and she glanced at him with a nod, “What’s your thesis on?”
Gideon had returned by the time he’s asked, and began corralling the two of them back to the car, “We’re heading back to the restaurant. We need to speak with Lysowsky again,”
But it had fallen on deaf ears as Spencer looked at her expectantly.
“Just some new research into prenatal screening, nothing too fun,” She simpered, climbing into the back seat as he nodded with her.
“I read a fascinating paper on the uses of hCG in a woman’s body-”
“Reid,” Gideon cut him off with a short glance from the front seat, “Continue this conversation once we’ve found Mr Chernus alive,”
Spencer blushed, feeling like a kid caught in the cookie jar, “Sorry, sir,” He looked over at her, only to see her hiding a smile to herself.
He thinks it was then he’d decided Emily had been wrong about her.
-
“You paid the ransom already,” Gideon said plainly, the four of them trailing behind him as he followed Lysowsky to a small seating area in the front of the restaurant. She could tell the whole way Spencer had been itching to ask her more questions about her paper, barely contained as his fingers had twitched in his lap, but he seemed to straighten himself out once she’d reached the restaurant, “You paid all the ransoms,”
“Sit,” The boss ordered, barely glancing at them as he held his strong whiskey up.
“Are they going to kill Mr Chernus?” Morgan asked, cutting to the chase as Lysowsky spared him a bored glance.
“No,” He replied shortly, the look on his face about as grumpy as when they’d left.
“The account is in the name of Lyov Fulenko. Lyov is a man’s name.” Spencer input, crossing his arms as the boss glared at him, “A son’s name. Vory v Zakone. Never have a family of your own. No wife. No children.”
“Lyov,” He looked at her then, gesturing to her with the glass of strong liquor, “You know what it means?”
“The Lion,” She replied gravely, steeling herself against his dark eyes.
“No one else would be so stupid,” Lysowsky ran a hand over his weathered face, swigging his drink as if it was the only thing keeping him talking. “At first it didn’t mean much. It was a way of letting him earn his own money. I could afford it, it came from the fund. And no one questions the use of the fund-”
“Where is he?” Gideon asked, his elbows on his knees as he leaned in.
“What else could I do?” He was ignored, “I couldn’t admit I wasn’t blessing the kidnappings, I couldn’t even admit my son existed.” He huffed when he saw Gideon’s face unmoving from the glower, his question still unanswered, “Chernus will be home in a few minutes. You should be there, he will need medical attention,” He shooed them away, with his final words, drink sloshing in his hand. His face darkened, impossibly so, and the five of them looked at him, something sad and remorseful shining back.
“What are you gonna do?” She asked, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer.
“Vory v Zakone.” He said heavily, nodding to her, “We take care of our own troubles.”
It was a silent journey back to the Chernus’ house.
-
Morgan and Reid pulled up to the campus, the younger girl in the back seat almost dozing off with the rhythmic hum of the engine, the evening sun much nicer on Spencer’s sensitive eyes.
“This is you, baby Prentiss,” Derek’s voice jolted her out of the half sleep she was in, straightening herself from where she had her head pressed against the window.
“Thanks,” She muttered, rubbing her eyes and unbuckling herself as they did the same, assuming they wanted to walk her back to her dorm since it had gotten dark, “I’ll be okay on my own, campus security should be out by now,”
“You sure?” Reid asked, flicking his watch up to his eyes to see the meagre 6:13pm staring back at him, “I thought they started at 7,”
She blinked at him, her eyebrows quirking for a moment, “How do you know that?”
“Johns Hopkins was my backup option- well actually it was my third, I much preferred Caltech’s curriculum, Yale was my second-” He started, flicking a glance to her where she waited for him to finish, “Not that Johns was bad, there were just better- alternative options out there-”
“Don’t shit your pants, I’m hardly the dean of the university,” She chuckled indignantly patting them both on the shoulder before sliding over to open the door, “Nice meeting you both, I’ll just get back to my mediocre college with my poor curriculum, nothing like the solid gold bathrooms at Caltech-”
“I never said that!” She laughed again, with her whole chest, at his defensive tone as she stepped out the car, hand on the door to shut it behind her.
Leaning down to give them both a wave goodbye, Derek’s voice stopped her again, “Baby Prentiss, do us all a favour and enrol yourself into forensics, we need more people on our team,”
Smirking at him, she shook her head, “Very funny. Never gonna happen. I like my little slides and samples, thankyou,”
Slamming the door on the two of them she headed for the front gates, swinging her purse over her shoulder. She was stopped by a hand on her shoulder, and she quickly realised she’d been too tired to even realise a set of footsteps jogging after her.
Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all.
Whirling around, her eyes widened as Spencer had clearly not been leader of the track team as he was half out of breath just from the few feet he’d covered, though she reckoned she could have guessed that seeing his lean ribs beneath his shirt.
He shoved a business card in her face as he caught his breath, though it was more just his name and credentials followed by a phone number.
“I-I don’t have email otherwise I would-” He huffed, scratching his forehead as she frowned and looked at him.
“I’ve never been hit on via business card before,” She bit her lip with a smile, reading over the card again as he choked on his words even more than before.
“N-no, I-” He spluttered, ignoring the way Morgan beeped the horn for him, seemingly in a debate with a ticket metre that had caught him parked on yellow, “If you needed us for anything, or if you needed a second pair of eyes for your thesis, I’m happy to help,”
“You don’t have faith in the dummy that got into Johns?” She asked, and his head couldn’t shake fast enough, though he seemed to catch her teasing and shared her smile, “Thanks, Dr Reid,”
“Spencer’s just fine,” He said, giving her a small nod and a wave as Morgan’s palm bounced on the horn a dozen times. She flashed him one more smile, pocketing his number and heading back to her dorm, wondering what the doctor would think about the paper due in tomorrow she’d yet to get started on.
+1. The one where you get arrested.
The case had been heavy. They’d felt it in the car on the way back to headquarters. A little girl, molested and groomed by her own uncle, his own wife covering for him.
His mother always told him love makes you do crazy things, but Spencer hoped that whatever part of him worth loving would at least stay sane by the time he found the one. He was loyal to his team, to his mother, but that was where he drew the line. He was loyal to his family, undoubtedly so.
Yet so was Emily.
The call came to the second SUV, her phone set up to hands free mode, quickly flicking to answer the call on speaker, the other half of the team ahead of them on the freeway.
“Prentiss, speaking. Who is this?” She spoke clearly to the unknown number, her knuckles going white at the wheel when she heard a nervous laugh.
“It’s me,” Her sister mumbled through the speaker, “You wouldn’t by any chance be near DC would you?”
She huffed, cursing the knack Prentiss women had for showing up at the worst times.
“Can’t this wait, I’m on the clock,” Emily hissed, her finger edging towards the ‘End Call’ button, “I’ll call you after,”
“Wait, wait, don’t hang up!” As if sensing her movements, she all but screeched, “This was my one phone call, they won’t let me have another,”
The car went silent for a moment, Spencer’s eyes narrowing on the dash from his place in the passenger seat, JJ also leaning forward from the back with a frown.
Emily grit her teeth, her upper lip twitching the way it did when she was mad.
“What do you mean by one phone call? Where are you?” She bit in a cautious tone, though knowing how reckless Bugsy tended to be, she had a pretty good idea.
The hesitation on the other end of the line was palpable, as was the way she awkwardly cleared her throat.
“Fairfax County Jail,” She murmured sheepishly, “But it wasn’t my fault, these assholes don’t know what they’re talking about, I swear-”
“Stay there and keep your mouth shut,” Emily ordered, her expression furrowing into a sneer, “And for the love of god don’t antagonise the officers,”
The agent didn’t even wait for a response, knowing it would probably be something snarky, her mind already racing at what the hell her sister could have done this time, every worst possible explanation jumping to the forefront.
“I’ll call Hotch and tell him to turn around,” JJ offered, her fingers already searching her contacts for their boss, as Emily sighed through her nose.
“Tell him not to worry, I’ll drop you guys back to headquarters, make my way there myself,” She said, picking the skin of her nail softly with her thumb.
“By the time we’ve reached Quantico, visiting times will be over and she’ll have to stay the night,” Spencer pointed out, his own surprise evident. Sure, she had certainly been a personality when they had met, but a criminal seemed a stretch.
“Maybe it would teach her a lesson,” Emily mused, shaking her head to herself, “Who am I kidding, that psycho would Shawshank her way out of there by dawn,”
“You don’t actually think she would hurt anyone do you?” JJ said, the dial tone ringing out from the phone she held to her ear.
“Wouldn’t put it past her. She once cut a girl's pigtail off for wearing the same dress as her on her birthday,” Emily winced as Spencer’s eyebrows shot into his hairline.
“I thought getting swirlied was bad,” He muttered, watching out the window as Emily made a U-turn at the traffic lights. He and the now twenty three year old had been bouncing research papers back and forth for a few months, the odd one every week, Bugsy even once joking it was much more interesting and riveting than foreplay, which had his face red hot at his desk.
She was like that, he’d quickly realised, had a vulgar sort of humour about her, yet he couldn’t help the snigger that came out whenever he’d receive one of his papers back through the mail with pink writing scrawled all over his ideas. The little hearts that dotted her exclamations whenever she wrote “AMAZING!”, the odd time she’d written “sexy ideas, doctor Reid” which he’d come to understand meant it was really good. He’d even gotten back the drawing at the end of the paper of a stickman of the two of them, his hair a curly scribble and a purple tie which told him immediately who was who, her line of a hand pointing at his caricature with the speech bubble, “everyone point and wave at the smart man,” which had made him laugh.
She was odd, toeing the line between childish and witty, nothing like the scholars he usually worked with, and the writing he usually sent back on her papers were all in standard black ink, his own pharmacist handwriting staring back at him as he crammed in his every thought of her research into the margins. If she couldn’t read it, she hadn’t said, but he liked to think she took notice of it all, even if it wasn’t strewn with stars and doodles and the occasional flirt he knew meant nothing. He knew her from her writing, knew her from her ideas that sometimes kept him up at night thinking more about them, but the two of them hadn’t spoken directly, most certainty hadn’t seen one another since that day with the Chernus’.
Emily hummed, fingers drumming on the wheel, entirely unaware of the thoughts rattling around in Spencer’s head, then again that’s how it always was, “I just pray to god she’s listened to me for once in her damn life and keeps quiet,”
-
“Fucking bitch. The nuns in Moscow hit harder than you,” She spat, blood dribbling from her split lip. She wasn’t entirely lying, but god did her mouth sing with pain as she tried to muffle a moan.
“You got jokes, pig lover?” The other woman asked, a tattoo covering half her cheek, her nose crooked from the shiner the Prentiss girl had already given her. “Won’t be fucking laughing when I’m done, bitch,” The woman was quick to tackle the girl around her stomach, slamming her into the hard concrete of the holding cell. Bugsy felt her skull rattle, the wind whooshing from her chest as rough hands grab her shirt and pin her down harder.
The younger girl reached the nerve under her opponent's armpit, the soft of her ribs, twisting until the woman gave a bark of shock, and she took the opportunity to shove her off, climbing on top of her as they both scrambled for some sort of control.
“I got one for you. What’s got a broken nose, a black eye and doesn’t know what’s good for her?” She swung twice as hard, the other women in the cell rattling against the bars as if watching a matador taunt a bull, the air thick with excitement as the two of them cursed eachother out.
Emily’s sigh was audible across the room as the wardens separated the cat fight, the largest of the officers all but grabbing her sister by the scruff of the neck like a feral beast, dragging her over with stubborn feet to where the BAU stood in the lobby, eyes widened at the state of her.
“You better start acting your age, little girl. Mommy’s not gonna be around forever to save you,” The officer hissed in her ear, manhandling her over to where Emily glared daggers into the side of her head. She knew that look, it was eerily similar to mom’s that time she’d been caught sneaking out of the house, something in the warm brown of Emily’s eyes frosting over into a cold blackness. Fury.
She chewed her words for a moment, waiting until the man had turned around with a grunt of acknowledgement to the badge Emily had flashed to get his attention, before she spoke.
“She’s not my mom, she's my sister, dumbass-” Emily slapped a hand over her mouth, gripping her shoulder with the bear-like strength her jagged nails possessed when she was mad, the scoff of disgrace leaving her mouth as her team trailed behind the two of them.
“What the hell happened, baby Prentiss?” Morgan asked, ignoring the way Emily’s heated gaze turned on him, “What’s got you so worked up?”
“Don’t entertain her, Morgan,” Emily seethed, all but shoving her into the back of the SUV. She looked up at her sister with an open mouth, the guilt flashing in her eyes as she wavered under the pointing finger Emily jabbed in her face, “Don't you even dare,”
“But-” She stammered, cut off when she saw the glare intensified, if that had even been possible.
“I don’t want to hear another word from you for the rest of the day unless you’re prepared to give me a good explanation why I’ve dragged my team out here to save your sorry ass,” Emily hissed, and the girl’s mouth bobbed a few times, feeling the rest of the team watching as she got thoroughly chewed out.
“Wait-” Emily’s hand lingered at the car door, ready to slam it in her face as she rubbed her cuff over her chin, mopping up the damage. Her head tilted for a moment, hoping her sister had something good to say, only for it to be; “He just called you old, I hope you realise that,”
Emily’s gaze darkened, slamming the door shut with an anger she imagined her mother had kept warm for the past twenty three years, whirling around heatedly when she heard a snigger from one Derek Morgan.
“Damn, mama, hear the girl out.” He said, slapping a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he passed, heading back to their own SUV, “Maybe she’ll surprise you,”
If Emily was going to bite anything back, she didn’t. Instead she ran a hand over her brow, the group disbanding to their cars now the problem child had been picked up from daycare, except for Hotch who watched the older Prentiss with a scowl, despite the worry in his eyes.
“Hotch, I’m so sorry, just take it off my timecard, I’ll cover all the costs,” She said shakily, her own frown adorning her face as she felt herself blush from embarrassment under her boss’s gaze.
“I understand she’s your sister, but this was a gross misuse of agent time and resources, Prentiss,” He said, his gaze drifting to where Spencer sat next to the girl, pulling a packet of tissues and hand sanitizer out of his satchel while JJ rooted through her own purse for a plaster, “Don’t let it happen again,”
Emily nodded vehemently, flushed with anger, her palms sticky as she wiped them on her jeans.
“Absolutely sir. Believe me, this ever happens again, she’s on her own,” She replied, though they both knew she didn’t mean it. Emily would never.
He nodded stonily, deciding quickly that it was punishment enough that she felt so ashamed, he knew from his years of arguments with Sean what it was like to have a sibling stray so far.
“We can fill out reports in the morning, just get Reid and JJ home,” Hotch said, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder as he passed her to head towards his own vehicle, “And try not to kill each other in the company car. It doesn’t look good on paperwork,”
She beat off the smile on her lips as she got back into the driver's seat, the air that engulfed the four of them foul as she glared over her shoulder and into the back. Spencer twitched in his seat uncomfortably, his hand still passing over tissues to the bloodied girl.
“So, you gonna tell me what that was about?” Emily asked, her tone brittle and warning, not in the mood for any snarky response she could give, “Or is this old lady going to have to lay into you some more,”
The smell of strong ethanol engulfed her nose as she held the soaked tissue to her face, frowning into her lap silently and avoiding the burning stare as Emily stuck the keys in the ignition and started the car.
“Let’s start with why you were there,” JJ input, the same tone of voice she used as when talking to victims, calm and motherly, unlike the pissed off snarl Emily gave, “You wanna tell us why you were arrested?”
“You two really gonna pull the good cop, bad cop on me?” She snapped, her lip swelling around the wound, tongue grazing it softly despite the heavy taste of the sanitizer.
Emily said her name in a warning, her last warning, and she knew better than to push her luck even more, the SUV pulling out of the station and onto the road.
“I was just shopping for groceries,” She started, fiddling with the bloodied tissue, wincing under her tongue stroke, “Store clerk made a pass at me, I told him I wasn’t interested. So he put a pack of smokes in my handbag while I wasn’t looking; the alarms went off. I didn’t even know what was happening until security grabbed me at the door,”
JJ flashed a glance at Emily, like two parents deciding an appropriate punishment, the brunette’s lips straightening out into a line.
“You’re telling the truth?” She asked cautiously, glancing in the rear view mirror to see how her sister balled the mess of paper between her palms.
Rolling her eyes, she gladly accepted the other packet of tissues Spencer slid over the leather seat between them.
“I went out for milk and oranges, I was not looking to get picked up, Em,” She bit back, groaning when she felt it jostle the cut, “And certainly not for cigarettes, you know I only smoke on New Years,”
Spencer looked at her with a frown, and she caught his confusion quickly, pulling another leaf of paper from the packet.
“Emily and I had a rule after she caught me smoking when I was like fourteen, that we could have one cigarette between the two of us on New Years eve,” She explained, JJ also perking up to hear it, “So that by the time morning came around, it would be last year’s mistake, and it would be like it never happened,”
JJ smiled to herself, remembering the time she caught Roz sneaking one of her dad’s cigarettes on the back porch back when she was just ten. She remembered the little secrets the two of them kept back then, held them even all these years later.
“So how did that lead to, well,” JJ gestured to her lip, “That,”
“Yeah, didn’t I specifically tell you to not antagonise anyone?” Emily chimed in, signalling she was changing lanes as they headed down the freeway for a second time that day.
“Technically you said not to antagonise the officers,” She pointed out, before Spencer had the chance to, shutting his mouth as he caught the glare Emily shot through the mirror.
“Keep talking,” The older Prentiss ordered, as Bugsy sighed and blotted her lip some more.
“That woman, Mira I think her name was, anyway, she recognised me from that picture mom had us take on Independence Day, the one they put in The Hill, and she asked me if it was true my sister was a fed,”
Emily’s fingers twitched at the wheel, knowing the status agents and even people associated with agents held in prisons; knowing just being a Prentiss in a jail cell held a big, dazzling price over her head that said ‘kill me, kill me!”
The air sucked out of the car, a look passing between JJ and Reid as they thought the same thing, waiting for her to go on.
“So then you hit her?” Emily guessed, the bitterness slowly ebbing as she understood maybe her sister wasn’t as unruly as she thought.
“No, I told her to leave me the fuck alone, but she said you guys sent her brother down for something a while back, and she asked again if my family were all Pigs,” She picked her nails, the blood stain on her sleeve staring back at her, “I told her if she didn’t stop calling you a Pig, I’d make her squeal like one. And then I hit her,”
Emily tried to pretend she didn’t smile hearing that, her cheeks tightening, lips pulling down as she fended it off.
“Is that good enough, officers, or will you be needing fingerprints?” The girl chimed after a moment, a weight seemingly lifted from the car as Emily quickly realised she had, for once, not been entirely at fault.
“I want a handwritten apology to my boss for wasting his time,” Emily demanded, her unforgiving gaze softening when she saw her smile, “And you owe my team coffee,”
“I can do coffee, coffee coming right up,” She agreed, shoving the used tissues into her purse with a crooked smile, “It’s a date,”
Spencers ears turned red, looking over the seat at where she dabbed at her lip gently. She didn’t look much older for six months, but she had gotten her nose pierced since the last time he’d seen her, unless he just hadn’t noticed it before, and the streaks of red were slowly fading out into a blush pink that said it was old, and he wondered if she’d done it herself in that tiny little cubicle bathroom of hers she shared with the four other girls in her block.
“You finished your stats papers yet?” He made polite conversation, though part of him was dying to know out of curiosity if she could crunch numbers and equations as well as she could in her own labs.
“Got two more this week, they’re kicking my ass man,” She replied with a huff, and he didn’t think he’d ever been called ‘man’ by a woman before. He knew if he’d known her in college, ignoring the fact he would have been twelve, he would have thought she may just be the coolest person alive, “I miss my labs with my microscopes and watching all the little baby cells move around in the ethanol. Stats are like, just not sexy,”
He smiled at her as she stared out the window, unaware of the way she’d managed to make DNA sound like a play pen full of kittens. He held off from telling her he found stats really quite sexy, knowing it would never sound the same coming from his mouth.
He pulled a leaf of the tissues from the packet, producing his own pen from his pocket and began doodling carefully so as not to rip the delicate canvas.
Sliding it over to her after five minutes as Emily and JJ made conversation in the front seat, she didn’t care that the grin tugged on her split lip, the reaction was instant, she couldn’t stop it if she tried.
Two stick men stared back at her, her hair a close match in texture and a childish triangle drawn as means of a dress, a very tall stick figure next to her patting her metaphorical head, a speech bubble coming from his mouth.
“Maths is fun!” It said, and she flicked a glance at him, her smile the most genuine he’d seen yet. He just smiled back.
+2. The one where you graduate
Emily felt the looks on her the moment JJ had mentioned Maryland. The case was a little under their pay grade, nothing more than a stalker, no bodies or bloodshed, but one very rattled woman that had turned to the communications liaison with fear for her life.
With Hotch and Rossi in Boston helping a case of their own, the rest of the BAU had been twiddling their thumbs waiting for something to come across their desk.
“This case is in my hands now, and if we do nothing and something happens to her,” JJ took a heavy breath, her eyes lingering on the three names Keri had given her in case of her untimely death, “I’ll be the one notifying her family,”
Derek, despite his own hesitations about using their time for a case like this, caved the moment he saw the guilt on the blonde’s face.
“Okay,” He shuffled the papers into a pile, Emily and Spencer gathering their own resources on the case and standing from the round table.
Luckily, one government SUV was more than enough to carry the four of them for the hour drive North, all of them well aware Hotch would flip if they used more funds than necessary.
JJ piled into the front beside where Morgan climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving Emily next to a particularly fidgety Reid. It took all of fifteen minutes of the man flicking a glance at her, his mouth quirking as if he were about to use it, before he thought better and looked out the window, and the whole thing would start again.
Derek, the less shy about his thoughts of the two men, even glanced at her through the rear view mirror, before he too returned his gaze out the window silently. JJ shifted in her seat, knowing she had to tread carefully around mentioning Bugsy to Emily, particularly after the last time they’d seen her. Emily had said they’d grabbed coffee once or twice since then, but that was all she spoke about it, which left her team walking cracked eggshells at the thought of bringing her up.
It seemed the three of them were bursting at the seams with the same thought, and it wasn’t until Reid cleared his voice, his puppy eyes stuck in his loop, that she had had enough.
“Does anyone here have something to say?” Emily huffed, Derek immediately reaching to turn the radio up the same time that JJ flicked the AC on for something to do. Realising they weren’t easily broken, she turned to Spencer who already looked slightly guilty, thumbing at his sweater, “Reid?”
“Did you want to see your sister?” He asked without hesitation, as if the words had fallen out of him, “You know, since we’re so close on this case. It would be a good excuse to-”
“You did say she owed us a coffee,” JJ pointed out, spurred on by Spencer’s nerves, “Wouldn’t mind cashing in if we’re coming all this way.”
“Morgan, do you have anything to add?” Emily asked with raised brows, though she already knew what was coming.
Derek chewed over his thoughts a second, “I’m just saying, you only get to see your baby sisters grow up once- you know, and it couldn’t hurt to see her even if she runs rings around you with that smart mouth-”
“Shouldn’t we be focusing on the case?” Emily cut him off incredulously, but received three knowing looks back. She met JJ’s gaze where the woman had swivelled in her seat to talk to her, and Prentiss was fast to catch the buried grief in her best friend’s eyes. She knew it pained her to even bring up sisterhood, let alone watch Emily throw hers away for the sake of a decade and a half between them. It was the desperation in JJ’s face that did it, knowing she would give anything to spend just an hour with Roz one more time, that had her drawing her cell out her pocket and calling the contact with the little ladybug next to it, “Fine,”
As a profiler she would have been tempted to ignore the way Spencer smiled into his lap; as a sister, her eyes narrowed at him.
The phone rang surprisingly only once before she answered, and she heard an unnaturally tame version of her sister answer.
“Emily?” She asked, her voice hushed, worried almost, “You okay?”
Her brows furrowed, “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” She got no more than a hum in return, somewhat agreeing though Emily could tell clear as day she was holding something back. “Look, we’re gonna be in Silver Spring, I was thinking tomorrow we could grab lunch-”
“Can’t, I’m busy, it’s an all day thing,” Her sister cut her off, yet it wasn’t rude or demeaning like usual. Nervous almost, sad, “Sorry,”
“What’s an all day thing?” Emily asked, the concern matching her words.
Her sister swallowed on the other end of the phone, before she found her words, or maybe even the balls to actually speak, “I’m graduating tomorrow,”
Emily’s face lit up, the smile spreading fast on her face, ignoring the way Morgan’s words seemed to ring true in her ears; she was growing up too fast.
“Graduating, why didn’t you say!” She asked, the joy in her tone unmissable, “How’d your papers go?”
Spencer held himself off from correcting her that she’d only done five papers, that the rest of her results had come from theory and labs, thinking better than to interrupt the one conversation they’d had where there was no underlying argument brewing.
“Full honours, obviously.” Bugsy drawled with a snicker, and Emily shook her head, the smile never dimming.
“Look at you, y’little superstar,” Emily bit her lip, ignoring the guilt that tore at her when she realised she barely knew what Bug spent her days doing, “Did Mom and Dad get good seats? Oh god, dad’s not bringing Stephanie is he?”
The silence on the other end had her halting, the light in the conversation wavering for a second, before she understood the nerves, the quick defence her sister had been on the moment the call had been answered.
“Bug-”
“They’re not coming,” Her heart ached in her chest hearing it, “I sent Mom the details, she said she’s in Ukraine this week settling some papers. Didn’t even get a chance to ask Dad before he and Stephanie were off on their fifth honeymoon in the Bahamas until October,” A painful laugh echoed down the line, as if she were holding back the gravity of the situation.
“Bug,” Emily tried again, picking her thumb viciously, punishingly, hating herself for being so blind to her sister’s troubles, “Why didn’t you invite me?”
“I figured you’d be busy,” Came the reply, sad and tender, the most honest she’d heard in a while, “You’re always busy,”
“Never too busy for you,” Emily’s guilt tripled when her sister didn’t answer, knowing if she were to counter the statement with hard evidence it would only hurt both of them, “Look, I have some time today, probably,” She didn’t, not even a few minutes, “Why don’t we get that coffee, you don’t even have to pay,”
Bugsy gave a sad laugh, “Sorry, Em, I gotta get my dress fitted today, and some of the lab techs invited me to a party later. Maybe some other time,”
“A party with biology nerds?” Emily asked with false excitement, the air turned stagnant between them now, “Well, rock on, science freak. Don’t leave your drinks with strangers, and don’t walk home alone, and for god sake use protection-”
“Bye, Emily,” She said with a chuckle, the older of the two gracing her with the same, as they put the phone down.
The car was quiet, waiting for Prentiss to speak, none of them missing the way her lip pulled between her teeth, a bitterness on her face that told them she was holding in something close to sadness. You’re always busy. It echoed around her head, stabbing at her chest to think her sister was graduating alone, no one to congratulate her, no one to pat her on the back and tell her how clever she is despite the fact Bugsy would happily tell anyone just how smart she was on her own. Never too busy for you.
“She’s graduating tomorrow,” She said to the three people waiting for an update, Spencer’s brows shooting to his hairline. He hadn’t heard from her since her last paper got sent off, and why would he? They had exchanged a few little anecdotes and doodles, sent each other research papers to be graded like teachers exchanging lecture notes, “She didn’t even tell me. She’s gonna be alone,”
JJ grimaced, “What? What about your mom- or, or your dad, an uncle, someone-”
“Mom and dad are out of the country, Mom’s brother lives in Mexico with his seven kids, he can barely get a night’s sleep let alone a day off to travel up to Maryland. Dad’s sisters passed away when I was a kid,” Emily explained, running a hand over her face, “I can’t let her go up there alone,”
“So we don’t,” Spencer said, as if he’d never been more sure of anything in his life, “We don’t let her do it alone,”
-
“Graduating with Masters in Biotechnology; Jasper Adams, Tom Adamson, Kristen Afkins, Gavin Agriths-”
The dean read off the names of the students as she fiddled with the hem of her dress.
The dress fit beautifully, her make up done to near perfection, her hair styled neatly, she was graduating with full honours for christ sakes. Why couldn’t she just be happy with what she had? Why had she got to be so spoiled?
Lots of peoples parents missed their graduation, lots of people her age didn’t even have parents anymore, she ought to be grateful her mother was increasing famine aid in foreign countries, all the lives she would save, or even be happy her father had found a pretty, rich new wife to tour every known vacation destination with. Or even that her sister had called her just yesterday and told her in a few words she was proud of her.
But none of them quelled the feeling of loneliness that blossomed inside Bugsy. The kind that had always been there, the kind that just wanted someone in her corner, telling her she was doing pretty good for a kid who raised herself in all those big houses they’d moved to, who saw the au pair more often than her own mother.
All those rooms were so empty, the houses so quiet besides for her. It was like living in a cemetery.
“Robert Lewsinsky. Marcus Linford. Tara Lorence. Katie Macauley.”
P would be up soon. Each name of her classmates drew an applause, some whoops and screams, one family she swore there must have been ten of them in the back row cawing and howling like monkeys at a zoo, proud of their son for making it.
She willed a smile on her face, hearing Orla Parkins get called up, and she knew just by the steward that directed her where to stand in line she was close.
“Kenneth Patterson. Joshua Perriman. Harriet Pimms. Lauren Pintons.”
She held a rattled breath as Renly Prackett walked ahead of her, strolling over the stage to collect his degree, flashing the crowd a wide smile and a fist pump. She had always liked Renly, having been his experiment partner for a year, despite the fact he never washed up after himself in the lab.
Then it was, her name was called. The one no one but her mother and Stephanie ever called her, she solely went by Bugsy courtesy of Emily. It was a family name, a nice one at that. Maybe it had been the fact she had been eight and her cool big sister crowned her the new name, or maybe it just rolled off the tongue better, made her feel less like a Prentiss, that she chose to go by her monika.
She tried not to think about where or what Emily was doing, only hoping she was safe, as she began walking over the stage, her heels clicking loudly with her hesitant steps.
To her utmost surprise she heard a loud whistle echo through the auditorium, a group of jeers and screams of her name, even an air horn signing off that had her almost tripping over her own feet turning to see who it was.
Surely it was a joke, a cruel prank, she barely had any friends in her class. Acquaintances sure, but no one so bold as to make such a fuss over her.
Squinting down at the audience, her cap nearly slipping off her head as her head turned to the source, she felt her chest burst when she saw the dark hair and bangs, her sisters butchered fingertips in her mouth with a loud cattle whistle, screaming like a firework right to the stage where she graciously accepted her award, despite the fact she barely paid any attention to the dean anymore, more to her sister who smiled at her widely as she clapped. Behind her, her team she’d met on the off chance, the pretty blonde, JJ, who pressed the air horn a few more times, cheering just as loud for her. Morgan, the handsome one who had stood himself on top of his chair, cupping a hand over his mouth to scream “Kicking ass, baby Prentiss!” at her, ignoring the way other people stared wide eyed at them.
And Spencer, tall enough to be seen over the crowd even without the help of a chair, who smiled at her, clapping those big hands of his loud enough to reach her, his own whoops never ceasing even as she stepped off the stage to head back to her seat.
The rest of the ceremony dragged, a speech from one of the alumni and the exit music playing, but she simply grinned into her hand, where her degree smiled back at her, counting down the moments she would be allowed to stand.
And then she was fast walking down the stairs, amongst the bustle of students, the black gowns flurrying around her as she burst out into the square where parents, fiancees, brothers, sisters, cheered their loved ones, pulling them into tight hugs.
Her eyes scanned the wave of black hats, landing on two dark eyes, the thick sable hair framing the dazzling smile that awaited her with open palms. All but shoving her way through the crowd, she stopped in front of her sister, the urge to jump at her with a hug shying the moment she got close.
“Told you. Never too busy for you, Bug,” Emily said, pulling her in by her shoulders for a tight hug. She knew her sister wasn’t one to beg for affection, wasn’t one to let her guard drop so soon, but she also knew she’d needed it by the way she melted against her, the way she chuckled into her hair, pulled her closer.
“Do I owe your boss another letter of apology for this or do I get you guys for free?” The girl asked, as her sister pulled away, keeping an arm around her shoulder as they turned to the rest of the team.
“No, this one is entirely on us, promise,” JJ said with a smile as she saw Emily beaming maternally over at the girl, the flat of the cap knocking against her cheek as she squeezed her in once more, “We’re very proud of you,”
She heated under the woman’s words, wriggling in her shoes as bad as Emily did when she felt awkward, Derek chuckling and taking the degree out of her hand.
“Alright, lets see the creds, Prentiss,” He held it up next to her face as she shrugged, the ‘4.0’ clear as day next to her name, “Good looking, and smart. Those boys in the lab ought to watch out,”
She grinned under his teasing, “What can I say, I got the deep end of the gene pool,” She teased, feeling Emily swat her ear, her eyes falling to where Spencer held a plant pot with a poorly wrapped bow of twine around it, the soil a little displaced from the journey.
“This is for you,” He said, handing her the small green sproutling, his cheeks blushing as her face lit up, reading the small inscription on the front, “It’s-”
“Dionaea muscipula,” She said, biting her lip as she smiled at him, “This is so cool! Where on earth did- I had a paper last semester on the ways to study their electrophysiology you just have to read- oh thank you!”
“English, please?” Emily asked, though the warmth flooded her chest when her sister threw her arms around a very rigid Spencer.
Thinking she should grab her and warn her the man disliked touch almost as much as she does, she was surprised to see him give her a small embrace back, smiling proudly the way he did when he’d made someone happy.
“Piège à mouches Vénus,” Her sister responded cockily, tugging herself away from the tall man, to inspect her new plant, well aware that Emily rolled her eyes at her use of French, “Venus Fly Trap. I’ve never seen one so young, still I should be able to pull some slides on the Rhizomes in the soil-”
Emily put a hand to her temple, JJ smiling widely as she saw for once Spencer be the one on the receiving end of an earful, chuckling to himself when she began dishing out name ideas for the sapling.
“Holy shit, there’s two of them,” Morgan grumbled, nudging his shoulder into Emily who simply sighed, her migraine already starting as Reid began jumping in with his own thoughts, which didn’t take much effort.
“Don’t even,”
+3. The one where you’re taken hostage
“Tell us about the 911 call,” Spencer requests, flicking through the file himself beside her in the back seat. She had her own set of paperwork in front of her, her pen attached to a clipboard the lanyard around her neck reading her real, honest credentials, unlike the fake ones Emily and Reid were given. She’d been to one of these sects before, invited kindly as part of her research on the effect isolation has on cultivation of crops, knew one of the mother’s well from her last research paper, and had managed to get the group a foot in the door to entering the Separtarian Sect with little fuss.
Hotch, usually hesitant to allow outsiders in on the job, especially as young and spirited as Bugsy, had to admit it would calm any potential unsubs and make them see the team as unthreatening if they had a friendly face there. He’d signed the papers with a frown that morning, and they were on their way to the little apartment the girl occupied just outside Baltimore, sample tubes stuffed into her pack ready.
“I believe the he that they refer to is the church’s leader, Benjamin Cyrus,” Nancy, a woman from child protective services, replied from the driver's seat, Emily thumbing through her papers as they neared the compound.
“Benjamin Cyrus, no criminal record; no record of him at all actually,” Reid replied, watching Bugsy scribbling notes into her lab book, perfecting her report before she had even begun, “What else do you know about him?”
“The sect I spoke to before, the one in Utah, said he was rumoured to be practising polygamy and forced marriages,” The younger woman said, looking back at him with a frown, “They were much more modern in their beliefs than these guys. Last time I spoke to Marina she was happy there, I can’t see why she would want to move here,”
Spencer looked as if he were about to answer, perhaps to tell her he was sure her contact would be just fine, when Emily shrugged and turned to Nancy.
“Do we know who the caller is?” She asked, sipping her now lukewarm coffee out of the disposable cup.
Nancy’s head tilted in a so-so motion, “Uh, Jessica Evansen is the one who the age fits, but we can’t be sure.”
“Well given their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn’t identify us as FBI.” Emily instructed, handing Reid his new, fake credentials and his gun she’d kept in her bag through customs. “Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.” Nancy nodded, the compound coming into view, the dust flurrying under the car wheels as the road turned into nothing more than a sandy path.
A guard seemed to be expecting their arrival as he stood, unarmed at the main gate, unlatching the bolt in the middle and opening it wide for their vehicle to pass through. She nodded in thanks, her eyes flicking out the dirty window to see a collection of mobile homes surrounding a large church, a few smaller outbuildings dotted around the compound. It was quiet, not full of laughter like the last group she had been to, the children nowhere to be seen, only a few of the handier members of the flock that were either fixing up walls, trimming trees besides a man sprawled too casually on the steps of the chapel, a bible in his hands he seemed to be catching up on.
The car pulled to a stop in front of the man that barely batted an eye at their arrival, the safety locks flicking off each of the doors, Nancy collecting her briefcase and exiting the car first.
She had all but reached for the handle when Emily stopped her, swivelling in her seat to look her dead in the eye.
“Your job is mediator, you got that?” Her sister had never looked more serious, but then again she did know her almost too well, “You and your field research are a… buffer between our investigation and the unsub. Just try to take the focus off what we’re doing, but do not provoke anyone,”
She raised her hands in innocence, “Got it, jeez, what could I possibly do that could ruin this investigation?”
Emily stared back at her blankly, unnamused, as if they both knew there was a lot she could, and would, do that would blow the whole thing.
“You look like mom when you give me that look,” She bit back, leaving the car, as Nancy spoke to the man laying on the steps, “It’s terrible,”
“I’m looking for Mr Benjamin Cyrus?” Nancy reported, her tight, knee length skirt and blouse entirely out of place amongst the dirt track.
“You found him,” The man replied, still not so much as granting them a glance of interest as he flicked through his passages.
“I’m Nancy Lunde, we spoke on the phone regarding the allegation,” She replied, which was the only thing that garnered his attention as he looked up at them behind slightly bent reading glasses.
“Savages they call us; because our manners differ from theirs,” He said, though it was clear it wasn’t entirely his own words, more likely a segment of his preach he’d repeated a handful of times. Bugsy tried to hide her disgust behind her hand tightening around her lab books she kept tightly to her chest.
“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr Cyrus,” Nancy snipped as he approached the group, pocketing the glasses though he kept hold of the bible in hand as if it was part of his own arm.
“Actually it’s Benjamin Franklin,” Spencer murmured to the woman, which had Cyrus’ cold brown eyes narrowing at the tall man, assessing for a motive.
“Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid. They’re child victim interview experts,” Nancy introduced them quickly, the two of them flashing their badges, the unofficial ones at least. Gesturing to the youngest woman, she introduced her with her real name, his gaze flicking to her as he seemed to recognise it.
“Marina’s friend? The plant lady?” He asked, face half amused as she fought her lip from twitching into a sneer. Instead she smiled, holding out her hand.
“That’s what they call me,” She said, shaking his hand, ignoring the way he flashed her a cheshire cat smile, “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by, Marina said I could take some samples for my research,”
He laughed, shaking his head, looking at Spencer, “Women and their flowers, right?” Spencer swallowed back a retort, shrugging his shoulders, though Bugsy’s eye twitched. Benjamin patted her on her shoulder, “Of course you can honey, I’ll find Jared, our head gardner, and you can run along for your research,”
He said it as if she were lying, that her degree and endless hours of work would only ever chalk up to a few doodles in a notebook, or a garden full of hydrangeas, or tulips, or roses, because she couldn’t possibly care about anything else but pretty flowers.
Nodding her head graciously, choking back the hateful response she wished to spit in his face, she gave him a polite thankyou, feeling Spencer’s eyes burning into the side of her head.
“The children are in the school as I indicated,” Cyrus said, turning back to the other three, Emily and Nancy taking off in the direction he pointed, the former knowing her sister was at risk of blowing a fuse if they were here for long.
Spencer hung back, partially because he had a plan of distraction in mind to allow the women a chance to speak with the children whilst Cyrus wasn’t around, partially because he didn’t want to leave Bugsy anywhere on her own. Sure, Emily had said they were both trained in self defence when they were kids, but with no weapon of her own, he was reluctant.
“You're using solar power?” He prompted, gesturing towards where the eight blue panels warmed under the Colorado sun.
“We’re completely self-sufficient,” Benjamin nodded along, catching the impressed look on both their faces, “Electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said ‘God helps those that help themselves,’ you look surprised,”
“No, impressed actually,” Spencer replied, and he wasn’t entirely lying. The system was incredibly complex, particularly if they received no help from outsiders, for as many people as there were in the compound.
“Thankyou; for admitting that,” Cyrus said earnestly, flicking his gaze back to Bugsy who studied the solar panels, “I’ll go find Jared, he can take you to the greenhouses,”
Thanking him again, he led the way towards the school where Nancy and Emily had headed, as the two of them exchanged a look, Spencer smiling half piteously, wishing he could shake her and tell her just how smart she was and that Cyrus knew absolutely nothing.
He didn’t miss the way she walked closer to him, or how she thumbed the corner of her notebook, or how she looked back at him, biting the inside of her cheek. He thinks he might get slapped if he pointed it out, but Emily had the exact same tell when she was nervous, which is why he bumps their shoulders together in means of reassuring her he was still there.
It was only then she gave him any sort of smile back.
-
Jared, as expected, had been just as condescending and patronising as Benjamin whilst she slipped on her latex gloves, scooping no more than a handful of homemade fertiliser into one of her test tubes. It had been a partial cover, their story, but she had been telling the truth when she’d contacted Marina and asked if she could drop by. She’d been meaning to expand her field research in hopes of stumbling on a job opportunity since she spent most of her postgraduate days reading while her cat pawed at her leg for more treats than he deserved, the odd phone call with her sister much more common than it had been before.
She didn’t miss the way Jared’s hand fell into the small of her back as he led her back towards the school, after having noted down a few more readings, fussing over the state of the carrots that seemed to grow entirely naturally thanks to the systems they’d been smart enough to set up. He seemed rather bored by the whole thing, for a head gardener, more interested in staring at her legs as she leaned down to identify the fat black beetle that crawled along the rockery.
It wasn’t until they were halfway to the school that the sound of tyres on a dirt path met her ears, and she saw five armoured SUVs out the corner of her eye.
She hadn’t even the time to question what was going on, before Jared’s face dropped, the hand gently holding the soft of her back grabbing on her forearm hard enough to leave bruises, as he was dragging her to the chapel they had seen when they had pulled up.
Emily had said the rest of the team stayed in Quantico, if it wasn’t them, who was it.
“Whats going on- who is that?” She asked him lamely, her feet stumbling as she half fought his heavy hand off.
That was when the shooting started.
She thinks it came from the compound first, she’d seen two men stationed on top of one of the outbuildings, thinking nothing much of it, until she saw clearly now the assault rifles they bore, pointing it straight at the vehicles that drew closer. The whistle of bullets, bangs of the chambers emptying their artillery, and it wasn’t until she heard the doors to the SUVs start opening, more gunfire began hitting the wall ahead of them that she started running. Running fast, for the cover the church provided until she figured out just what the fuck was happening.
Jared all but threw her past the chapel door, where Cyrus and four other men were waiting, a heavy barricade in their hands, her chest pounding with adrenaline, she couldn’t help the yelp that left her as Cyrus whirled on her, grabbing her shoulders firmly and looking her dead in the eye.
“Did you know anything about this?” He asked, his calm demeanour cracking when she scrambled for a response, “ANSWER ME,”
“No-no not at all.” She shook her head, voice weaker than she’d like, but the sight of more guns in the men’s hands twisted any resolve she had, “Where are the others- the- the experts-”
“Take her into the tunnels,” Cyrus ignored her question, nodding at one of his men to grab her as Jared armed himself. She felt another callused hand yank on her upper arm, and part of her wondered if that was how men handled all women here, as if they were herding cattle, as she was dragged down into the catacombs below the church.
They’d made plans for a day like this to come, she realised.
Her heart constricted at the sound of bullets rattling above them, she hadn't been able to tell in that last moment whether Cyrus believed her or not as, nor whether she was being taken to the tunnels for her own safety or to be questioned harder about the gunmen.
She could only hope Emily was safe.
She felt her tongue too big for her mouth as the man all but shoved her into the bunker, the nervous chatter of women and children, some of the more elderly men, as they clung to one another for safety, the scathing remark she would have usually made about his heavy hands failing her as she scanned the room for her sister.
Emily was faster however, and she nearly yelped again as two bony arms yanked her into a hug, a rare one, and she knew by the blazer and the sigh of relief in her ear it was Em.
Usually she would bat her off, tell her to stop fussing like a mother hen, but today she embraced her right back, trying to note if her sister had any bullet holes in her before she allowed herself the same relief.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Emily asked, the whole thing coming out in a slew of worry, and she nodded, pulling away as if she needed to see the proof in person.
Bugsy’s eyes were wild, as if she were a doe in a meadow hearing a rifle cocking near. No scratch that, she was a doe being chased and shot at and hunted, narrowly escaping being mounted on a wall.
“They were all shit shots,” Bugsy said, through a laugh she didn’t quite mean, “You would have done much better.”
Patting her sister on the shoulder, Emily finally released her when she realised the humour meant she at least had her head on her shoulders. Spencer watched her with meticulous eyes, knowing the shock that registered on her face, knowing it was the same one he wore when he first had shots fired at him. He saw her own eyes quickly check him over, satisfied with a breath of relief when she saw they were both fine.
“Where’s Lunde?” Emily asked, and she realised then Cyrus had followed her down into the shelter, two of his men grabbing handfuls of guns she had never seen before, likely imported out of country, and returning to the ground level, preparing for more shooting.
“It wasn’t us,” Cyrus replied, as if that negated the fact their recklessness had gotten the agent killed.
“What? You can’t shoot it out with the cops, you have children in here,” Emily seethed, her voice harsh and incredulous.
“I didn’t start this,” Cyrus bit back, looking towards his men as they grabbed boxes on boxes of ammunition, “I’ll take the front, you take the roof,”
And with that they stormed their way back through the tunnels, leaving the three of them to look between each other, knowing this could only end badly. Knowing the only people that could figure out how to get them out of this mess was the BAU, all 1,700 miles away.
–
They’d been in the bunker for fourteen hours when there was finally movement. The shooting seemed to have quietened down, in which Spencer whispered it was around 11pm and it was likely neither party had a clear shot. She’d managed to fall asleep leaning against the wall, Emily’s blazer draped over her legs. She’d regretted wearing cropped pants, despite how the shade of green complimented her eyes nicely, and she’d been shivering by the time she fell asleep, Emily’s hands stroking her hair gently as if she knew she was struggling to relax.
She hadn’t realised she was staring at her little sister, frowning even as she slept, which made part of her want to laugh, until she caught Spencer’s tired eyes looking between them, something knowing and warm in his gaze.
“You know, she’s always scowled in her sleep, ever since she was born,” Emily said, quiet enough it didn’t interrupt the hum of small snores, the odd baby cry that filled the bunker, but loud enough for him to smile at her, “She used to sleep walk terrible too. I’d find her in the kitchen trying to make pancakes with a cheese grater. It’s like that big brain of hers doesn’t know how to shut off,” Emily shook her head with a fatigue, rubbing her eyes.
“Was it weird? Being fourteen years older?” Spencer asked, his own hands shoved into his sleeves to try defend from the draught. Emily thought for a moment, her hand slowing for a second on her sister's hair, before she answered.
“I felt guilty leaving her in that house with my mom when I went to college,” Emily answered, Bugsy unconsciously tucking her face closer into the jacket, “I think part of her kind of hated me for it for a while.” She went quiet, the shame in her voice thick as the silence that encompassed them, “She’s never been very affectionate you know? Before her graduation I don’t think I’d hugged her in twelve years,”
Spencer held himself back from pointing out that she had been just as touchy with him since they’d met, and that maybe it was Emily’s own regret that seemed to shut the both of them down. He wasn’t one to rub salt in the wound, not since he’d gotten this job and learned to watch what he said.
He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to give her advice, knowing the whole subject of their slowly repairing relationship was a sore one. He had no siblings of his own, had a mother who loved him despite how much she grappled with her own mind, and he had only known the girl briefly enough to consider her a friend at a push.
“I always thought the two of you were similar,” Emily chose to continue, offering him a small smile. He returned it, his face blushing at the fact that was a huge compliment to him, “Granted, you roll your eyes at me less and don’t act like I’m dumb, but you remind me of her,”
“Thankyou, I wish that were true,” He replied, eyes flicking to her sleeping form, the way her eyebrows were indeed scrunched in a permanent frown. He wondered if she was actually angry, or if she was just thinking hard, perhaps her dreams were full of equations or labs she needed to sort through. Either way, he wanted to know. “She’s much cooler than I’ll ever be,”
Emily snorted, shuffling against the wall to cosy herself, “That’s one way to put it,” She said, smiling over at him as he did the same, his head resting against the wall, Bugsy’s legs stretching out to knock against his feet, and he didn’t mind that she scuffed the bottom of his already dirty trousers. “Get some sleep,”
And so they did.
–
Cyrus had corralled the whole flock into the church, where the shooting had stopped and the bodies had been removed, stating at the break of dawn that there was a hostage negotiator coming in to make sure everyone was safe before they made any deals.
She sat next to Spencer, the three of them stiff from their sleeping arrangements, and her stomach churned with hunger. It had been over 24 hours since they’d gotten here, and besides the small bit of bread and water Cyrus gave everyone for breakfast, she was starving.
“Remind me to never leave the house, ever again,” She grumbled, as everyone waited in the pews for the negotiator to arrive, “My cat is gonna be pissed I’ve not fed him,”
“Since when did you get a cat?” Emily inputted from the other side of Reid, keeping one eye on the door in case any agents start shooting again.
The girl shrugged, “I got lonely, there’s not much to do now I’m not studying anymore,”
Reid watched how she clutched her stomach, feeling his own complaining at the lack of nutrition, “Morgan wasn’t lying when he said you should sign up for the academy. We could always use the help, we wouldn’t have solved that case in Baltimore without you,”
She snickered, nudging his foot with her boot, “You’re being modest, you would have done it just fine,”
He was a little, wasn’t surprised she called his bluff either. “Okay, so probably yes- but it would have taken us a whole lot longer. Mr Chernus likely would have died,”
She shook her head, glancing at Emily who watched her carefully, “That was all you guys. I just translated.”
Emily and Spencer exchanged a glance, leaning back in their uncomfortable seats calmly.
“You’re probably right,” Spencer said, dusting the dirt off his trousers, “Probably couldn’t handle it, high intensity mind games and such,”
She blanched, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head, not knowing him to be so brutally honest, realistic yes, but not bordering on rude.
“And it’s a lot of work,” Emily jumped in, her mouth a straight line, “I don’t know if you’d be dedicated enough,”
Bugsy scoffed, indifferently. “I have a masters degree, I was offered a scholarship to do a PHD, asked to be an assistant professor at Yale, I can work hard, Emily,” She snipped, and perhaps she was particularly just hangry or they had struck a nerve with their doubt, “and I could do it if I wanted to, I’d have the best shot they’d ever seen, guaranteed- mom made me take lessons when you left- trust me I could do it-”
She shut up when she saw their small smile exchanged, as if she’d told them a joke, or moreso they’d had the same identical thought and that alone was hilarious.
Scowling at them, she looked from where Spencer looked almost, almost, guilty at making her the butt of the joke, to where Emily had a ‘told you so’ smirk, and she kissed her teeth at their childishness.
“Are you guys reverse psychology-ing me? Seriously, so original guys,” She snapped, crossing her arms and straightening herself in her seat, ignoring the snigger that passed between them.
“You’re not wrong though,” Emily replied quietly as Cyrus walked past them, his eyes falling to them with a frown. Bugsy kept her head down, heeding Emily’s warning of not provoking anyone, and Spencer eyed the way she leaned closer to him.
If she was going to retaliate, whether agreeing or not, she stopped herself, the doors the church opening and an older gentleman walking through the doors, arms full of supplies she’d figured must have been part of the negotiation. He was patted down by an armed guard, searching for his own weapons do doubt, or a wire perhaps, as he handed the box over to another who took it without a thankyou.
“Rossi,” She heard Reid whisper beside her, and from the look he shot Emily and Spencer she gathered he was from the BAU, just as they’d expected. His eyes fell on her, softening as alot of Emily’s team did when they saw the two of them, as if they were picking her face apart for the tiny ways in which she resembled their Prentiss, or maybe it was the way she curled up in her seat, tired, hungry, on the defence. He just looked sorry for her.
“The children,” Cyrus said with no greeting, the air between them particularly frosty. He gestured towards the three of them, though Rossi had already clocked their tired faces staring at him with worry, “And our guests,”
She saw him trying not to react, guessing they had not let it slip to Cyrus he worked with the two undercover FBI agents, looking away from them as if the sight of their forlorn figures was enough to turn him sick.
Judging by the way Cyrus and he spoke quietly, tensely, Bugsy just hoped they had a plan to get them out of here soon as he soon left with a rigid handshake to the man keeping them hostage.
–
The three of them had been moved to a backroom a few hours later. Her stomach ached, the little sustenance Rossi had brought being distributed to the community before they’d been offered anything, which hadn’t left much. Reid and Emily had tried to get her to take some of their sharing, and despite how her insides cried out for it, she declined, stating they would be more use than she would; that they needed their strength more than her if they were going to get out of here alive.
The two of them hadn’t liked that answer judging by the frowns on their faces, but they sat in their seats with little fuss as they waited for things to quieten down after Cyrus’ staged “mass suicide” that had turned out to be nothign more than a test of loyalty and grape juice.
They had been sat in silence, aside from her foot bouncing on the floor impatiently, as she picked at the threads on her pants, the material uncomfortable on her skin after a day of wearing it. The door slammed open, Cyrus entering the room with nasty scowl. She didn’t know what had changed in the man in a matter of hours as he stormed over to them, two of his men behind him, loaded rifles in their arms.
This was not good.
“Which one of you is it?” He asked almost too calm for his demeanour, his eyes flicking between the three of them, where Emily attempted to brush her hair using her fingers, Reid played with the hem of his cardigan, an she sat beside him, resting against the cold stone wall behind them, her eyes narrowing at his furious expression.
The three of them remained silent, waiting for him to explain more, though clearly it was not the answer he was looking for as he threw his jacket open, revealing a loaded pistol tucked into his jeans. Drawing it into his dominant hand, her body tensed up, her back straightening like a rod as she looked up at him through fear.
“Which one of you is the FBI agent?” He repeated in that same calm tone, and her heart fell through her stomach.
She opened her mouth to say something in retaliation, though the way she saw his hand shaking with fury, she knew it was better to stay quiet in case her voice would be the final straw that made him trigger happy.
“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer replied softly, and if he was panicking even a fraction amount she was he held it back, though his eyes flicked to Emily.
But it was a tell. The smallest movement alone was a tell he was lying, or perhaps it was the fact he’d answered a question with one of his own, distracting from the attention on them with the unsubs own answers. Maybe his quiet and calm showed how trained he was for a situation like this, showed he had gone up against bad guys before and won.
Whatever it was about him, it had Cyrus cocking the barrel of the gun straight at Spencer’s temple.
“God forgive me for what I must do,” The preacher murmured, his finger moments away from the trigger, when she lurched forward in her seat, hand shooting out to grab his wrist deathly tight.
“It’s me,”
She hadn’t realised she’d said it until the room went quiet. She thought for a moment it had come from Emily, Emily had always been the braver of the two of them, but it wasn’t until Cyrus’ unforgiving, dark gaze fell to her where she froze in her spot, that she understood her mouth had been the one moving.
Emily looked as if she was about to vomit, Spencer looked dumbfounded, but all she could do was stare back at Cyrus as if to will herself not to back down, knowing all three of them could fall victim if she gave them reason to doubt her; he could kill all three of them just to be sure the mystery agent was dealt with.
“It’s me,” She repeated, voice stronger this time, and she felt her chest relax just the tiniest amount as he turned the gun away from Spencer’s head.
He stared back at her for a moment, before the weapon smacked across her face in a sharp whip, her cheekbone crying out in a sting she knew was going to bruise.
He grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck, yanking her into a stand hard enough she yelped, despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the torture.
“Watch the other two,” Cyrus barked, dragging her out of the room as she squirmed under his hand, feeling it only tighten into an unforgiving pull.
She barely caught Emily bolting out of her seat to yell at the other men, all but fighting in their heavy grasp to follow wherever it was he was taking her, only for the door to be slammed shut behind them.
It was only then she realised how fucked she truly was.
–
She struggled to breath through the blood clotting in her nose. She didn’t think it was broken, not that she could check where her hands had been tied to the bedpost, tape over her mouth to stop her calling for help, her feet bound. She’d done nothing but give him hell as he’d been laying into her, keeping her cries and groans of pain silent as he’d kicked her in the ribs hard enough to know he’d damaged something at least.
She’d not made it easy for him to tie her down, worried about what they were planning next, she’d managed to headbutt him in the mouth, and the way he clutched at his jaw when he’d left gave her a sick satisfaction, though her temple now hurt more than she’d like to admit. But they’d only covered her mouth after she’d screamed obscenities at them for an hour or so, hoping to attract attention, hoping if the BAU were on their way, Emily and Reid would be able to find her fast before they could dispose of her.
Bugsy didn’t want to go like this. Tied up like cattle, gagged and beaten, the spirit kicked out of her as the dehydration gnawed at her limbs, making her too weak to even try wriggling out of the binds.
She felt herself dropping off to sleep, or maybe it was a concussion, he’d slammed her face into that mirror quite viciously, she wouldn’t be surprised if it had rattled her head around. Fighting with her eyelids to stay open, she jumped in her battered skin as the door unlatched, and she thrashed on the rickety bed to get away from the impending second beating.
But it wasn’t Cyrus. A fawn haired woman entered, her eyes falling on the girl on the bed, where blood trickled down her cheek, pouring from her nose like a thick liquor. Frowning, she was on high alert as the woman approached, a small, damp cloth in her hand.
“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you honey,” She hushed, approaching the young girl. Bugsy didn’t believe her for one second, her head pulling away from her as far as it could, her eyes wild and distrustful as the woman kneeled down beside the bed. “I’m Kathy,”
Bugsy debated jabbing an elbow in her face then and there, telling her in few words to stay as far away from her as possible, that the moment she was free she didn’t care who she hurt; she was getting out of here even if she had to crawl.
“That woman’s your sister right?” The blonde said, and the words stopped her heart for a moment, giving the woman the chance to run the cloth over the dribble of blood, “Emily,”
“Where is she?” She tried to ask, but the gag made it little more than a muffled cry, the woman’s eyes turning down in sadness. Pity. Bugsy hated every second of it.
“She’s okay, she’s worried about you though,” Kathy said, wiping under her nose, making her wince at the feeling, “Put up a hell of a fight after they took you away,”
She must have rolled her eyes, or perhaps it was just telling on her face that that didn’t surprise her as the older woman wiped over the superficial cut on her forehead she hadn’t realised was deep until the cloth went over it and she yawped like a dog having it’s tail pulled.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Kathy cooed, and she seemed genuinely guilty as she did. She tutted, shaking her head, fighting the urge to smooth the girls hair down the way she did when her own daughter was upset, “Emily said they’ll be coming for us at 3am, Cyrus has a mass suicide planned but they think they can stop him, you just have to hold on a little longer honey,”
“I want to see her,” Bugsy tried to talk again despite her mouth being covered, only for it to come out unintelligible once more. Huffing, she resigned herself to glaring at the ceiling, biting back frustrated tears. Kathy seemed to want to say something else, but thought better of it as the twenty something year old turned away from her to stare out the window, as if she were being dismissed.
Sighing, she rose from the bed and headed for the door, praying the FBI would get them out in time, before Cyrus put his plan into action.
–
Bugsy didn’t start panicking until it hit 2:50. She’d managed to kick the small analogue clock on the beside into working, the red numbers seeming to take a millenia to change over.
Yet it wasn’t until 3am neared, and the hallways remained silent, did she start to wonder if Kathy had been telling the truth at all. What if they had found out Emily and Reid were FBI and not her? What if they’d already been caught?
She really had wanted to see Emily, wanted to scream at the woman, who had meant well, to bring her sister to her or she would make every damn bible basher in this compound regret the day they were born. She felt helpless. She despised feeling helpless.
It was only when she heard shots rattling from outside did the cold fear set in. 2:52. Any minute now.
It was then an even worse thought struck her. What if they didn’t bother to come for her? Reid and Emily were safe downstairs, at least that was how Kathy had made it seem. If they got the women and children, the agents out first, she wondered if they would leave her for last since she wasn’t their top priority.
2:53 stared back at her.
At least Emily would make it. She was more important, had more going for her. She was supposed to be an only child anyway, mom had said it herself. Bugsy was the product of a failing marriage and a shared bottle of 1896 Bourbon that had been a wedding gift they’d never opened.
2:54.
She could have sworn she tore something the way her head snapped to the door as it swung open on its hinges, as if two large men had thrown their weight into it. But it wasn’t two men at all, just one frantic Derek Morgan with an FBI grade assault rifle.
The relief in his eyes was immediate, and he pulled a pocket knife from his boot, rushing over to where she lay, almost in shock, wondering if he was real at all, her heart pounding as she heard shouting in the corridor.
“I’m gonna get you out, kid,” The man promised, slinging his gun over his shoulder as he sliced through the rope on her ankles, her eyes trained on the 2:55 that watched them as if to laugh at them.
She whimpered, cursing behind her gag when she heard footsteps pounding through the hallway, and she was sure they were going to get caught. She thought then it would have been better if they’d forgotten about her, that at least Derek would have been safe, and he could have made sure the children got out safely, could have gotten Spencer and Emily medical.
Derek whirled on the doorway the same as she did as a tall figure all but skidded around the corner, his legs weak as hers felt, too long and not at all built for running. Clumsy almost.
Spencer. She should have known from the way he looked white as a sheet the moment he saw her it was him, but maybe she really did have concussion, as it seemed within moments he was fussing over her face, tearing a little too sharply at the tape over her mouth.
She thinks she groaned, or maybe cursed him out, as he started apologising immediately, his eyes a puppy kind of sad as she stared up at him, Derek handing him the knife to cut her arms free.
He was talking, but she couldn’t make a lot of it out, just that he was really sorry, it was 2:56 now. It was like her brain switched itself back on when she realised she was free, and the two of them were trying to haul her to her feet.
“Come on, princess, we gotta get out of here,” Derek said, as Spencer looped an arm around her waist, helping her limp across the room where her weak limbs did little to hold her upright, her ribs throbbing with every step, “We managed to stop Cyrus from detonating it manually, but the circuits are all still live,”
Morgan took the lead with the rifle, knowing some of Cyrus’ men had stayed to look for them, that they would go down with the building even though he’d already shot their leader the moment they’d breached the front door, because that was how loyal they were. They’d proven so already with the wine.
She kept her groans behind tight lips as they made it down the stairs, knowing Spencer didn’t mean to hold her bruised bones so tight, that he was just worried and her legs were doing the bare minimum to keep them both moving very fast. It wasn’t until they made it within a few feet of the door that they seemed to pick up the pace.
And she saw why.
Jesse, Cyrus’ child bride that had been the reason they’d come here in the first place was holding the detonator, her face tear streaked at the sight of her husband and prophet dead on the floor, the people responsible all but dragging a lame girl through the foyer and to the doors as if they hadn’t killed a handful of her flock tonight.
Bugsy saw the moment Jesse decided she wanted vengeance on them, but then, she guessed Spencer had already acted as he slung one of her arms over his shoulder, yanking her out the front door in a matter of seconds as Morgan pulled up the rear, and the two men shoved her down behind the small wall outside the church steps.
Bugsy expected the bang to be louder as the rubble flew over their heads, the floor shaking with the impact of the bomb detonating, and it was then she realised one of Derek’s large warm hands held her head into his shoulder, protecting her already rattled skull as best as he could. Spencer had done the same, throwing half his body over her back as he covered his ears, the two men tucking into the wall tightly and waiting for the dust to settle.
Spencer started coughing first, though his position over her never faltered, and she heard his chest wheezing, and knew they needed to move away from the thick smog that blew into their faces. Morgan released her ear, tipping her head back to check her over once more.
“Kid! You okay?” He fretted, noticing the way her nose had started bleeding again from all the movement; the way the bruise had already started blotching her cheek from where Cyrus pistol whipped her.
“I didn’t think you’d come for me,” Was all she could say, and Derek thought it was the saddest he’d ever heard her.
Reid was pulling her to her feet then, where he was still hovering over her, despite the fact the blast had already cleared, still sputtering and hocking up a lung, but it didn’t stop her from throwing herself at his middle, burying her face in his dusty sweater, not caring one bit if he jostled her aching ribs.
He was trying to be gentle with her as he squeezed her back, but she knew by the way he pressed his face into her hair he needed it just as badly.
“You saved my life,” He said, his long arms wrapping around her waist, hauling her whole body against his.
She laughed through a cough, their cheeks brushing past one another as she pulled him in tighter, thankful, relieved.
“You saved mine,”
And then she heard Emily. Emily, who sounded frantic and heartbroken as she called for her, her voice breaking as if she was crying, or atleast on the verge of, and as comforting as Spencer’s long arms around her cracked ribs were, she needed to see her sister was okay.
Ripping herself from his embrace immediately, she tore off after the sound, and there she was. Her older sister, who had always seemed immovable, like she wouldn’t so much as budge for a bucking horse, like water couldn’t drown her, or however many unsubs she’d faced could stop her from catching them. Her older sister, who looked like she’d taken a few punches of her own, judging by the blood on her blue blouse, that looked around the crowd of fleeing people with watery eyes and a shaking bottom lip.
“EMILY,” She yelled, her voice a bleat, a lamb calling for its mother, as she sprinted down the steps, whatever strength she had left carrying her to where Emily was rushing towards her, taking the stairs in threes, “EM-”
She crashed into her sister’s chest, and it was only then she started crying.
“I swear I’ll never give you trouble again, I’ll never talk back, I’ll never be a bitch ever again-” It was all a slew of mumbles against her sisters shirt, that was beginning to wet through at the rate the tears were coming, “I thought he was going to shoot you-”
“I was so scared, Bug, oh my god,” Emily murmured into her hair, squeezing the life out of her baby sister that sniffled and sobbed, “You don’t ever, ever do that to me again,”
Bugsy shook her head, clawing at Emily’s back as she pulled her closer, feeling Emily stroking her hair softly to calm her even in the slightest. They stayed like that until she managed to wrangle her sobs into little sniffs, the fire burning her eyes where it burned the rest of the church to ashes.
She stayed with Emily for a month after that.
+4. The one where you leave the altar.
She knew she was turning heads, walking down the street of a drizzly day in Virginia, hair wet and sticking to her face, makeup running down her cheeks, and the sodden, dove white wedding dress clasped in her hands as she paced towards the government building.
Whether the guards recognised her as the Ambassador’s daughter, or whether they really didn’t want to get into it with a bride looking like that on her day, she didn’t know, but they opened the door for her nonetheless, exchanging raised brows as a trail of wet followed her gown over the marble floors.
Heading up the desk, she flashed her driver's licence, which was enough to gain her a visitors pass she didn’t bother putting to use as she headed for the elevator, her ballet pumps squeaking under the body of the dress. Waiting for the doors to start closing when she finally let a few tears slip, burying her face into her cold, drenched palms, undoubtedly making the mess of mascara even worse.
Her heart gave a leap when she heard someone stop the doors, hoping she could get to her sister with little delay, and she quickly wiped her face with whatever was left of her pretty, dobby cloth shawl she had yanked on before she’d ran.
Whatever excuse she was about to give, whatever one liner she was about to drop to clear the awkwardness this agent was about to walk in on was sucked out of her when she saw Spencer staring at her, his briefcase in his hands he’d used to hold the doors, a wide eyed look plastered on his face as soon as he saw her state.
“Bugsy,” It was somewhere between surprise and sadness, jumping into the elevator before the metal could shut again, the button for the sixth floor already lit up in a ring of red, “What are you- I didn’t even know…”
“Spencer!” As seemed to be a common occurrence between them now, she threw two very cold arms over his shoulders, tugging him for a hug he quickly reciprocated, feeling like she needed it in the moment, “It was so awful, I just couldn’t all those people staring at me, and he- I just feel so-”
“Hey slow down,” He soothed, slipping his favourite cardigan off his body to put over her shoulders, ignoring the way he cringed as it quickly got sodden, “Let’s get you to Emily, I’m sure we can fix this,”
She nodded, though he could tell she was still shaken up, the elevator dinging to a stop on the fifth floor where an agent looked ready to step in, his face dropping when he saw the sight.
“Sorry, we’re full,” Spencer said, with little room for discussion, pressing the button to close the doors once more, and taking her by the elbow as she began shivering, “We’re gonna be just fine, you look beautiful,”
She laughed sadly with a roll of her eyes, the tears sticking to her cheeks. She knew she looked no better than a drowned rat, windswept and disgruntled, her dress full of muck from the street.
“Thankyou, Spencer,” She mumbled, the door sliding open to the sixth floor, where Penelope and her everlasting smile greeted her favourite boy genius.
She almost dropped her glitter pen when she saw the woman stood next to him looking like Dorothy dragged through the twister.
“Oh you poor little lamb, what has happened to you honey!” She all but cried, the cute little pom poms in her hair bouncing as she brought Bugsy closer, taking her hands tightly. “Your hands are ice! You’ll catch cold with that wet hair, and your gorgeous dress-”
“Garcia,” Spencer cut her off, though the woman didn’t seem to mind being manhandled into the kind grip, he guessed her state had her letting her guard down, “This is Bugsy, Emily’s little sister.”
Penelope gasped, her ponytails swishing around some more, the gems on her glasses as bright as the light in her eyes as she yanked the younger girl in for a tight hug.
“It is so nice to meet you! Emily talks about you all the time,” She said, pulling away and fumbling through her pockets for her fresh pink handkerchief she always carried around, mopping up the girl's eyeliner.
“She-she does?” Bugsy asked, sniffling, her body trembling as the AC beat down through the water ladened on her body.
“Of course she does, come on, let’s go get you coffee, I have a new machine in my office that makes the best espresso-” Garcia grabbed her hand as if they were kids in the playground, as if she’d known the girl years, which she sort of had. She had, of course, stalked every single one of Emily’s known relatives, even a distant cousin that never left Europe, and that had thrown up the quiet corner of the internet that Bugsy took up.
“I needed to talk to my sister, if that’s okay,” Bugsy braved enough to say, the swishing of her dress on the carpet making her wince, practically hearing the gallon of rain that soaked the expensive fabric.
“Ofcourse! How silly of me, I’ll bring it out right to you, little bug. You just go with Spencer,” Handing him the handkerchief, she set off towards her ‘bat cave’ in search of a hot beverage for the shivering woman, “Spencer, clean her makeup!”
He did as he was told, dabbing the water off her face as he led her to the BAU, where Emily and Morgan sat on their desks, chatting as they finished off lunch, Emily flicking through photos on her phone of baby Henry that JJ had sent over to her that morning from maternity leave.
“He’s just the sweetest little boy, he’s got the biggest blue eyes just like Jayj,” She said through a smile, “You know Will even said-”
“Holy shit-” Morgan cut her off, and she glanced at him, wondering about his use of a curse. Following his eyes over her shoulder, she swivelled in her position to see where Spencer led a very wet, shaken version of her little sister through the doors of the BAU, a snowy ball gown hanging off her, a veil clinging to her hair that had seen much better days.
“Holy shit,” She agreed, immediately darting for the girl that tugged Spencer’s cardigan tighter to her body, “Bugsy,”
“Emily, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t take up too much time- I just couldn’t do it- and I know mom’s always saying ‘Bring home a doctor, bring home a rich man,’ but I just couldn’t no matter how rich his daddy is, he wasn’t even too bad-” It all came out in a slur, not making too much sense, and she didn’t stop until Emily held up her hands, as if easing a wild dog.
“Woah, take it easy, kiddo,” Morgan hushed, as Emily brought a hand over her sister’s cheek, wiping away the last of the mascara, “What happened?”
Bugsy took a deep breath, looking between Emily and Derek, feeling the rain drip down her back.
“So a few weeks ago, Mom made me go to that stupid debutante ball,” She started, rolling her eyes already as Emily winced, knowing Elizabeth loved any excuse to dress her youngest up like a Barbie doll.
“I hated those things,” She confessed, shaking her head, “I thought you’d agreed you didn’t have to go to them anymore,”
“That was while I was in college, she said at least I could focus on my studies,” The girl explained, as Garcia tottered back through the office, a steaming cup of coffee in her beloved Bratz mug. Taking it from the chirpy woman, she took a deep gulp, not caring if it burned her mouth as she wished for the damn chill to go away, “Thankyou- But she made me go to this one on the condition she would pay off some of my college loans, and I was dumb enough to fall for her bribe,”
She huffed, taking another sip, her stomach warming with the hot liquid settling through her throat.
“You know how she is at these things, she knows everyone, and everyone knows her. I had four guys asking for my dance card within minutes of arriving there, it was like trying to walk through a dog pound wearing a meat suit, all the hand holding, trying to touch my waist- one guy even called me Madam Prentiss,” She grimaced, shuddering at the thought of it, “Madam? No one even calls mom that-”
“Focus,” Emily reminded gently, and she seemed to nod to herself, setting back on track.
“Right. And then he was there. Byron Hastings.” Bugsy said, wrapping her hands around the mug some more.
“Oh, isn’t he that super yummy bachelor that just inherited his fathers business?” Garcia jumped in, not noticing how it made her wince, “I hear his dad totally owns a bunch of shares in Facebook and as like just signed a deal with a new company that will change the future of computing-”
“Not now, baby girl,” Morgan said calmly, patting Penelope on her shoulder when she saw the bride’s crestfallen face.
“Right, sorry. Your turn, little bug,” She said, shaking her head and fiddling with her dozen rings.
“Yeah, that’s him.” She replied, running a slightly warmed finger over her eyelash where rain even collected there, “And you know, I wasn’t complaining, he was certainly easy on the eyes, and he smelled nice, like he just smelled rich, but man alive he was so boring,” She sighed, “I like computers as much as the next girl, no offence, but he didn’t once ask me what I was into or, and when I tried to bring up my degree he just patted me on the head and said ‘That’s nice’ like I was some child that had brought him a pretty colouring or something,”
“Ouch,” Emily grimaced, rubbing her arms over the cardigan to warm her up a little more, “And then?”
“And eventually, his dad and my mom cut a deal that we’d make a good pair. He said we could be married within the season, and suddenly everyone seemed up for it, and it was like no matter how hard I tried to dig my heels in, no one would listen, and mom just seemed so pleased with me-” She spluttered, sipping her drink to catch her breath, “I just let it happen and just thought, you know, maybe we could learn to like each other, or we could just be like mom and dad and separate in everything but paper,”
“It’s your life, who is she to tell you how you’re gonna live it,” Emily was outraged, the tip of her nose pink, her dark eyes stormy as her hands fell to her hips, huffing as if it had been her backed into a corner, “I can’t believe she would do this to you,”
“I was fine with it, really. It's not like its the fifteenth century when I’d be forced to consummate- anyway,” Bugsy rubbed her face, “I just got there, and mom put on my veil and told me I’d make a lovely Mrs Hastings, and just the sound of it- I couldn’t-”
“What on earth is going on?” A new voice cut through the BAU, and the group disbanded like kids caught trading answers to the homework. Rossi and Hotch stood by the unit chief’s office, brows furrowed at the wet bride and his team that tended to her as if she were a princess.
“Should we be expecting four wet bridesmaids too?” Rossi asked, the two of them making the steps down to the floor, approaching the guilty faced woman, noting Spencer’s cardigan wrapped over her shoulders.
“Nope, just me,” Her joke fell flat as she met the stony face of Aaron Hotchner, who looked thoroughly unimpressed, “Nice to see you again, Mr Hotchner, sir,”
His gaze slid to Emily, mouth opening to share whatever scathing remark bounced around his mouth, but the younger girl beat him to it, everyone’s eyebrows raising when she all but cut him off.
“This wasn’t on Emily, sir, I just showed up out of the blue, I can go- I’ll go- I just need to figure out where I’m staying since I left my purse at the church- don’t you worry I’ll be out of your hair, Aaro- sir,” Bugsy stammered, plonking the mug onto Emily’s desk, backing away to the doors of the office, clutching her visitor pass tight in her fist.
Maybe it was because she looked so hopeless, or maybe it was the way his team shot him the same look of horror he would be so regimental, or maybe even it was the fact part of her reminded him of Sean, only his brother wouldn’t have had the courtesy to apologise for his mess.
Sighing, he gestured her to come back, “Wait,” He said her name, her government name because the other one didn’t fit right in his mouth, “Reid, get her some clothes out your go bag. Emily, tell your mother she’s safe and will be staying in Quantico until you can figure something out,”
Heaving a sigh of relief, she launched her still sodden form at the chief, wrapping him in a stiff hug, bolder than anyone else on the team had ever dared to be.
“I swear to god, Mr Hotchner, the next letter you're getting will be the best one yet,” She mumbled into his hard chest, and he fought off the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Patting her on the back gently, he ignored the way his dress shirt wet through.
–
let me know what you think! mAYBE A FEW MORE PARTS COMING UP ??
Edit: This is a part one of 3 or 4 I have planned, thankyou so much for all the love on this I did not expect the reaction 🥺🥺
SECOND EDIT: part two and three are out now!! Have a look at the top where it says ‘next chpt and it’s there bbys!!
THIRD EDIT: we are now balls deep into this universe here's th link for the masterlist
#spencer reid x reader#Spencer reid imagine#Spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds x reader#Prentiss#prentiss!Reader#criminal minds fanfiction#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fic#spencer reid fanfiction#mathew grey gubler#Matthew grey gubler x reader
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DPxDC Tim Encounters a Fae at a Gala
Which may be a problem, yes, but the much more alarming part? The Fae looks like Damian.
"This is pretty boring, don't you think?"
The voice comes from behind, and Tim recognizes it instantly, but at the same time, he doesn't. He's never heard Damian talk like this, easy and a little amused, with no usual stiffness to his speech. Yet this couldn't be anyone else - being a vigilante means you can never drop your guard even in your civilian identity, and who other than Damian could have sneaked up on him?
He turns around.
It is Damian, and at the same time, it's not. The boy looks just like the demon child, the same face, same height and skin tone, the same way he puts his hair. But something is wrong. The way he holds himself, his relaxed and almost lazy posture, the absence of a usual scowl on his face, the way he feels comfortable here, in a crowd of people.
And his eyes, when he looks at Tim. Icy blue, almost translucent, like the color of icebergs and glaciers.
The not-Damian tilts his head a little and smiles just slightly. Tim blinks, realizing that there was a question, and he just stares at the boy instead of answering.
"Yeah, sure," he clears his throat and breaks the eye contact, looking away from not-Damian's eyes, his thoughts a frantic mess. Is this another clone? Or some kind of a shapeshifter? In any case, they approached Tim first, he can't lose his chance at gaining some information. So Tim smiles back, "Is it your first time? At the gala, I mean."
Now, when he looks at the boy again, the stricking resemblance doesn't hit him so hard. Instead, Tim notices something else - the boy is... eerily beautiful. He's never noticed Damian looking this nice - because that would be kind of creepy if he did, - but this not-Damian is... He can't really put it into words.
He's just beautiful.
Almost unnaturally so.
"You could say that," not-Damian answers, looking over the crowd around them, "I'm not used to so many people around, but I've seen my fair share of social gatherings."
Tim blinks. That statement compiled with his absolute lack of any kind of nervousness makes little sense.
Alright, he needs to get at least some information from the mystery twin. He is a detective, for god's sake.
"Are you here with someone?" That can be a useful question. Tim sure as hell knows that Bruce could not invite some Damian lookalike without prior warning, which means the boy had to come as someone's plus one. Or he sneaked in with no invitation, that's also a possibility.
"My godfather should be here somewhere," not-Damian nods, scanning the crowd before nodding his chin in the direction of a small cluster of people. Tim follows his gaze and finds a white-haired man in a matching white and silver suit in the middle of telling some kind of story.
"Vladimir Masters?" He questions with a noticeable amount of disbelief. The man never said a word about having a godson. Ever. And Tim did a thorough background check on the owner of DalvCo.
"Got it in one," not-Damian grins. Is it just Tim, or do his teeth really look sharper than they are supposed to?
Come to think of it, his ears are also not as round as they should be.
Unnatural beauty, sharp teeth and pointy ears, questions answered in a vague and unclear way. And Tim hadn't noticed him blink even once.
He has a guess. He doesn't like it, it's a very, very bad guess, but Tim is a Bat, a Robin, and a Detective. He knows when he needs to trust his gut even if his gut is telling him absolute nonsense.
He just needs to make sure.
Tim swallows the anxious feeling in the back of his throat and turns back to not-Damian, smiling:
"I think I didn't catch your name?" He does his best at sounding confused and not alarmed. The boy's grin widens just a bit, but Tim feels a cold shiver run down his back, and his mind is all but screaming for him to run away for this is not human, and whatever it is, it is dangerous.
"Would you give me yours in exchange?" The boy's voice is soft and easy, not a hint of mischief. Just a casual question. Maybe a little teasing.
Tim's blood runs cold as he tries to remember everything he has ever read and heard about the fair folk. Never give them your name, but there has to be a way to answer this question, right?
"You may call me Damian," he finally answers. Maybe this is a risk, calling himself his brother's name, but Tim feels like this is somehow a right thing to do since the boy - the creature - looks like him.
Not-Damian's eyebrows shoot up, and there's a hint of surprise in his eyes when he starts quietly laughing. The heavy pressure of the air around him disappears at the sound of the crystalline laughter, like it was never there. Tim feels like he had just disarmed a bomb or passed a test with his own life at stake. Maybe he actually did.
"Clever," the boy grins again and nods politely, bowing his head down like they are at a medieval ball and not a gala, "My name is Danny. It is nice to meet my brother's brother."
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#danny phantom#dpxdc#dc x dp#batfam#fae rules#fae#changelings#danny x tim?#danny x tim#tim drake#danny is a fae#he just wanted to mess with bats#no ill intentions he promises#i'm obsessed with this au#feel free to add on#phanfic#story prompt#cork writes#cork prompts
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Slow kissing turning into aggressively making out with JJK men
Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader; Sukuna x fem!reader; Toji x fem!reader
Word Count: 3,5k
Warnings: no sexual content but it's getting heated y'all, not proofread because I wrote that in my break lol
Notes: no one asked for this but I delivered it anyway hehe
Gojo Satoru
It’s hard to keep your mind focused when it’s him who’s sitting next to you. Him, with the cheekiest mouth you’ve ever witnessed. Him, who always picks on you whenever he gets the chance. Him, who makes it all too clear for everyone around him that he’s the strongest.
Because that’s who Satoru Gojo is. Unlike you, an average jujutsu sorcerer who just happened to slide into the same year as him.
“Satoru, stop teasing her”, Suguru mumbles to his right, gazer flickering over your obvious uncomfortable face.
If there’s one thing you hate, it’s attention. Especially attention coming from someone who always bathes in the looks of others, who has no problem with standing in the spotlight constantly.
“I’m not teasing (y/n). I was just telling her that she looks great today. Is a man not allowed to voice his opinion around here?”, Satoru replies while pulling you in his arm and stroking your hair a little too harsh.
And despite the stinging fact that you are nothing compared against him, you can’t help but get excited when he enters the room, you can’t stop your heart from almost beating out of your chest when he touches you. Oh, it makes no sense that you fell for him. Especially you out of all girls around jujutsu high. How dumb to even dream of him liking you back someday when he’s surrounded by charismatic and jaw-dropping gorgeous women each and every day.
“(y/n) doesn’t look comfortable at all, though”, Suguru comments dryly.
Your cheeks redden instantly when both their gazes hit you with full force, eyeing you up and down until you see stars. It really shouldn’t make you this nervous to be around both of them. Why is it so damn hard for you to be the center of attention for a brief second?
“Get going Suguru, I have a mission for you. What are you doing there with (y/n)? I told you over and over again to leave that poor girl alone, dumbass.”
May the ground swallow you whole. Why is your teacher suddenly appearing as well? And most importantly: If he takes Suguru with him, does that mean…?
“I-I…should get going as well!”, you stutter while jumping up so urgently that a wave of nausea hits you.
Maybe it’s nothing but coincidence but somehow, you managed to never be alone with Satoru in a room. He must be weirded out by you already, there is absolutely no reason to risk him getting freaked out by your strange behavior around others.
“Why in such a hurry, (y/n)? Only Suguru has to go on a mission. Both of us are free today”, Satoru purrs next to you.
When his hand grabs yours and pulls you back down into your seat, there is no chance to escape. You stare blankly at your feet, sweaty palms now digging into your thighs. Without Suguru, you’re on your own. No distraction, no possibility to escape his stinging gaze and attention.
You should be excited about finally getting some time alone with your crush. After all, you laid your eyes on him even before joining jujutsu high. Being the daughter of a wealthy and usual mighty jujutsu sorcerer family meant always staying in contact with the family who inherited the honored one. When you were little, you enjoyed Satoru’s company because he never asked too much questions about you and always seemed unbothered by the stinging fact that you are weak. And surprisingly, his interest in you never wavered until this day.
You, on the other hand…
“You look like you’re sharing the room with a special grade curse. It’s just me, your best friend, the one and only Gojo Satoru! Why so nervous, (y/n)?”
Since you started to develop feelings for him like the dumbass you are, everything changed. Just the sheer thought of sharing a room with him alone sends shivers down your spine, feeling his gaze sticking onto you forces you to get all nervous and to act like an idiot.
You really are one hopeless loser.
“Actually, I’ve been waiting quite some time to finally catch you alone again. It seems like you’re avoiding that like the plague.”
Because you do. Being alone with him means risking that you’ll act all weird and maybe freaking him out forever. Even though you’ll never be with him, you don’t want to lose the connection you have with Satoru. No, you’d rather love him from afar than risking it all.
“Really?”, you mumble while staring blanky at your sweaty hands.
“We’ve been friends for so long.”
He slides closer, forces your heart to skip a beat.
“Right.”
“But two or three years ago, you started avoiding me and I wondered why.”
You swallow hard, eyes widen in sheer horror.
“Right.”
“Until I realized.”
Your eyes drift towards his, meet the bright blue ocean of his uncovered orbs. Did he find out? No way, you always made sure to never let anyone know, to keep your feelings to yourself. How would he even get the idea that-
“You love me, right?”
Time stands still, you don’t dare to move a single inch. He knows. Gojo Satoru knows. But how? When? You are physically unable to ask him any of those questions. Instead, you sit next to him like his prey in desperate hope that he’ll lose interest in you if you don’t move.
“You love me, right?”
His piercing look almost kills you from the inside. No, you can’t escape him. There is no way you’ll get out of this room without answering him.
“Right”, you whimper.
“Oh thank god.”
You don’t have any time to react. Before you even realize what happens, he pulls you in and kisses you. Slowly, tenderly, soft and sweet.
Satoru Gojo.
He…kisses you?
For a second, you forget how to exist. This has to be a dream you never dared to allow, so far away from reality that you’d shake your head over the sheer thought. But the way he wraps his arm around your waist and places his hand in your nape is oh too real.
No, this isn’t a dream. Satoru is kissing you at this very moment.
“I had my eyes on you for what feels like forever. But when you stopped meeting me alone and avoiding me, I thought that I might have done something to upset you until I realized that you actually feel the same way”, he mumbles against your lips.
You can’t answer. Instead, you allow your shaky hands to rest against his broad chest. Oh, he feels just as good as you secretly imagined, his intoxicating smell tingling in your nose and making your senses go crazy.
Your lips start moving cautiously against his. In your whole life, you were never kissed, there was never a boy besides Satoru who caught your interest. And now it’s him. It’s really him who moves in synch with you, who places soft kisses against your desperate lips.
So desperate. You grab the fabric of the uniform tighter, make sure that he doesn’t escape. When you get used to the feeling of this sensation, your mouth starts moving faster on its own. You close your eyes, give in to the feeling that starts growing louder and louder inside your burning chest. All those years, you refused to even think about him. All those years, you buried your feelings six feet under. But now everything comes back to the surface. Now it seems like the control over your mind and body slips out of your fingers in the most delicate way.
Out of instinct, you grab his neck and pull him even closer. Your mouths collapse with each other over and over again, so heated that you fail to breathe. You slide onto his lap, allow your tongue to intertwine with his. Oh, you never expected this to feel so good, you never knew you were capable of feeling such a sensation.
When Satoru whimpers inside your mouth, you threaten to lose yourself completely. His hands roam around your body without an aim while you hold onto his strong arms for dear life. Unforgivingly, without any mercy, your lips crash into each other until you see stars.
“Fuck”, he breathes out.
Satoru is the first who gives up and releases his puffy lips from yours. Panting heavy, both of you stare at each other. Did this really happen? Did you really make out with Gojo Satoru like that? You, out of all people? Sheer embarrassment rushes over you like a wave. Out of instinct, you try to cover your face with your hands, to escape his strong gaze.
“No, don’t you ever hide yourself from me. Not after what we’ve just done. You are…absolutely gorgeous”, he murmurs.
“And I think I need to do that again.”
Sukuna
Your skin burns in sheer sensation where his fingertips tease you, his lips moving against your mouth oh too sweet.
What a coincidence that you met Ryomen Sukuna here at Shibuya. What a coincidence you’re now sitting on top of him while his mouth roams around yours so innocently. Soft kisses with Sukuna are something you never imagined the king of curses to enjoy. No, you imagined him rough in every minor aspect of his life, especially when it comes to his lover. Well, apparently that isn’t true. Right now, his lips brush over yours as if you’re porcelain that’s about to break, as if you are the most precious thing to ever exist.
“I don’t have that much time for you”, he mumbles into your parted lips.
“Why not?”, you pout while outlining his strong arms with your fingers.
Oh so gently, he starts placing soft kisses onto your cheek, your forehead, your ear. So tenderly that it feels like a soft breeze of warm air caressing you, so utterly peaceful that you’d never believe that this is actually him.
“I have something to do here. Who knows when I’m able to gain control over that brat again.”
His low voice vibrates through your whole body. Truth is, you missed your lover way too much to let go of him now. You haven’t seen each other for what feels like forever. Each and every night, you craved his touch, waited for the perfect opportunity to get him back. There is no way in hell you’ll let him go like that now after sharing only a few warm kisses.
You don’t give him an answer. Instead, you let your hips fall onto his provocatively, keeping his head in place while your tongue begins a play you know all too well.
Because even though the king of courses has an unexpected weak spot for slow and sweet kisses, you know exactly what drives him over the edge, what he needs to lose his mind to your mouth.
Your lips crash against his without any mercy, tongue teasing him so violently that a moan escapes the usual so composed man. A curse who never even thought about love and affection, a man destined to kill each and everyone who stands in his way.
Except you. Somehow you managed to light a fire inside him that cannot be put out without your help. Or better, your kisses.
“I missed you”, you purr between two passionate kisses.
“So so much.”
Automatically, he pulls you even closer, allows his muscular frame to collide with yours. Ryomen Sukuna melts like butter in your hands.
And you love it.
“What are you doing to me”, he mutters into your mouth.
“You want me to leave?”
You part your lips from his ever so slightly. One innocent movement, just the sheer thought of pulling away from him with an outcome you know so well.
In an instant, you feel Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you even tighter while his tongue teases you until you can’t breathe anymore.
“Who said you’re allowed to leave?”, he grumbles.
“Stay right here”, he hisses while shoving his tongue into your mouth again.
His hands grab your face when he suddenly starts slowing down his movements again.
“Please”, he adds along with a soft kiss on your forehead.
Toji Fushiguro
You are screwed. Completely fucked, lost, in big trouble.
And the man who’s responsible for all that mess is grinning right into your face.
To be honest, you heard rumors about him. A man who isn’t able to produce cursed energy, who is so unbelievably strong despite it. A bounty hunter who kills jujutsu sorcerers when it’s decently paid, nothing but a troublemaker.
And hot. God, just the way he smirks at you makes your knees go weak-
Focus, this is goddamn serious.
“Would you mind removing that blade from my friend?”, you question dryly.
Now is not the time to thirst over someone who just pierced through your comrade. Well, the honored one, to be exact.
“Why? He’s your boyfriend?”, the man bites back with his sensual low voice.
“Hell no”, you reply a little too quick and disgusted.
“But I still care about him enough to ask you this.”
The unknown force of a man tilts his head before pulling the blade out of Gojo.
“I don’t need your help, (y/n).”
“You sure about that? Let me take over.”
“You? Don’t be ridiculous.”
Gojo’s stupid comment makes your blood boil almost instantly. Who does this guy even think he is? Just because he was lucky enough to get born with immense powers doesn’t mean you aren’t a decent jujutsu sorcerer yourself. Apart from the stinging fact that you are a woman.
And you’re definitely able to feel the stranger’s eyes all over you.
“Are you hard of hearing? Get lost and make sure Riko arrives at Tengen-sama’s safe”, you hiss through gritted teeth.
“And missing all the fun and fighting? Hell no.”
“Being alone with ya actually doesn’t sound bad”, the stranger replies with a smirk.
“What the hell would you want from her?”
“Seems like your dumb blue eyes aren’t useful after all, brat.”
Oh, how much you try to stop yourself from grinning ear to ear like an idiot and your cheeks to blush.
“Was that a compliment?”
It doesn’t matter, though. You can’t fuck this mission up. Something about his appearance tells you more than urgently that if that man gets close to Riko…
You have to prevent this. No matter what it costs.
“Depends. Did it work?”, the stranger replies.
Fuck, you hate the way your heart almost beats out of your chest. Or…do you?
“Who knows”, you purr.
His eyes all over you, take in your appearance with so much force that you feel like fainting for a second. Is that man flirting with you?
“I’m the one you’re fighting against.”
“I’m not interested in a spoiled brat like you. Get lost.”
He makes it look so easy. Grabbing Gojo by the throat mid-air, slamming his body into multiple nearby buildings. All of this without a single spark of cursed energy. All of this only by the sheer force of his muscular arms. Fuck, those forearms…
“So, watcha say, princess? Are ya in for chilling together?”
You feel like dying and flying at the same time. That fucking man was able to send Gojo straight to heaven with one arm. There is no doubt in the fact that he’d be able to kill you without you even noticing a single thing.
You bite your lip when your eyes start wandering around his toned torso and tight black shirt. But isn’t it your mission to do everything possible in order to keep Riko save? Especially when it means getting physical with a man like him. His eyes tell you that you need to keep him entertained if you stick to your plan. What could a girl like you possibly offer a guy like him?
“Depends on your definition of chilling. I’m not staying here for nothing.”
This is a dangerous game. One wrong movement, one unwise word and you’re dead without even Gojo being able to protect you.
“First tell me what’s yours. Any hidden talents apart from that whole jujutsu stuff?”
He roams around you like a hunter around its prey, eyes getting darker and darker each time they meet your gaze. Oh, this question definitely points to places you’ve never been before, so dirty and rough that you never allowed your thoughts to travel there.
“Maybe we need to find out”, you hum.
Your voice doesn’t sound like yours anymore. Like in trance, you give the unknown man in front of you dirty looks. This is for the mission exclusively.
Right?
“I know you’re trying to distract me. But fuck that and have some fine before I kill that brat.”
You force yourself to breathe out slowly and controlled. Of course, he wouldn’t fall for that. Someone who’s here to kill the plasma vessel and managed to slice through Gojo like through butter isn’t someone to be messed with.
Like in slow motion, you watch as he draws closer. He builds himself up in front of you with his shadow hanging over you threatful.
But those lips. Those oh so kissable lips paired with that handsome face of his.
“Scared?”, he mutters while mocking down at you.
A deep breath in. A deep breath out. Before you’re able to convince yourself otherwise, you press your lips against his.
Almost instantly, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer. But apart from the rough kiss you expected, his lips caress yours in the softest way possible. Gently, he holds onto your face while embracing you in a way you’ve never felt before.
Fuck, why does this have to be so good? Why was everything you expected from that man a steamy make-out session?
Your knees threaten so fail you when every minor movement of his mouth sends shivers down your spine. This shouldn’t feel so good, you shouldn’t melt like butter in his rough hands.
But you can’t help it.
“You definitely taste good”, he mumbles into your parted lips.
Your cheeks heat up in an instant. If someone would have told you you’d end up making out with a hot stranger to stop him from killing Riko and Gojo today, you would have called them insane.
And yet, here you are. Getting showered in soft kisses and held in a way you’ve never felt before.
“Gimme more, princess.”
Slowly but surely, the urge to feel him even closer, better, faster becomes unbearable. You grab him by his hair and pull him down while your mouth picks up the pace on its own. This isn’t enough. You need to feel him better than this.
“Fuck.”
A moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, hands wandering around his body without an aim. Oh, your lips never swelled up like that, never burned in such a sensation before. Fuck slow-kissing, fuck holding yourself back. Why would you ditch that opportunity when it’s clear that he wants you as well?
The stranger’s arms wrapped themselves around you tightly, leave you no room to escape. Over and over, your lips collide with each other until you feel dizzy.
“Sorry for interrupting your little make out session, but are you out of your fucking mind, (y/n)?”
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
You know that voice all too well.
“Huh, should have killed you right on the spot”, the stranger remarks with his dark eyes still set on you.
“What a waste of time. Wait for me here, princess. I’ll be back when I killed that brat and the vessel.”
He lets go of you as sudden as he grabbed you, leaves your body aching for his touch and your mind racing back and forth.
“You can’t kill them!”, you shout after him.
“And I don’t even know your name.”
“The name’s Toji Fushiguro, princess.”
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#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#gojou satoru x reader#gojo saturo#gojo satoru#jujutsu gojo#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#ryoumen sukuna#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x reader#jjk toji#toji x you#fushiguro toji#toji zenin#jjk fluff#Jjk spice#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen gojo
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shopping with the batboys ( + bruce )
to my pineapple pizza haters: know you are valid
warnings: none | divider by @cafekitsune | requests open!
With DICK GRAYSON, the most mundane of shopping trips turns into an expedition—leaving your heart rushing and blood pounding. He shoots you a flirty wink before steadying the grip on his shopping cart. “Ready, sweetheart? Because I don’t think you are. I’ve got the bread isle memorized like the back of my—”
“Go!” You exclaim, snorting when you see the shocked expression on his face, like he wasn’t expecting you to cheat to try to beat him. Hey, he was a super-fit vigilante, how else were you going to get a head start against Nightwing? Pushing off of a rack of magazines, you let out a shout of victory as you grab the milk from the fridge. One down, two to go. You quickly place the eggs into your cart, but not before you make eye contact with your menace of a boyfriend, who smirks at you before grabbing the last bag of whole wheat bread. Damn, he really did have the bread isle memorized like the back of his hand, didn’t he?
He bats his eyelashes at you innocently, but not before flashing you a crooked grin. “I think that’s three, sweetheart. 3-2, if you know what I mean, so…” he smiles, but there’s a glint of mirth in his eyes that absolutely melts your heart.
“I’m still calling a foul. It’s your walk-in pantry, and there’s no way that you didn’t have an advantage over me.” You huff, crossing your arms, trying to replicate the cute-but-hurt puppy dog eyes that Dick seemed to have mastered.
He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Sorry, but a deal’s a deal. I mean, I guess you could go back on it, but…” he looks up at you, with those eyes that could melt even the coldest of hearts, and probably a physical ice statue as well.
“Fine,” you grumble. “We can have pineapple on your stupid pizza. Do you want cereal for dessert?” The last question is supposed to be sarcastic, but the light in his eyes shifts from mischievous to downright carnal.
“Actually, I was thinking of having something else for dessert.”
Oh, boy.
You always knew that JASON TODD was going to spoil you rotten, and that was before you found out that he could cook. It wasn’t fair, actually, that he was probably the most gorgeous, intelligent, and caring person that you knew, all while being kick-ass and super talented at… basically everything. To some, God gave in abundance. Sighing dramatically, you propped yourself on his shoulder and leaned against him with your elbows.
His eyes twinkled at your new position. “What’s wrong, princess? Tacos not your scene anymore?” He was lying, obviously, because you demolished tacos like they were your last meal and you were on death row, but you still huffed and buried your face in his bicep.
“Jus’ thinking ‘bout how fuckin’ perfect you are, Jay,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the muscle that somehow managed to stay defined under a leather jacket. “You’re really awesome, you know that? I’ve never met someone as amazing as you. They should put a picture of you up at the Met—‘cause you’re a work of art, baby.”
It’s obvious that he’s holding back laughter, from the way that his broad shoulders are shaking, but something inspires him to keep entertaining this though. Probably your endless supply of charm. “Yeah, babe? I knew you wanted me just for my pretty face.” It’s interesting, honestly, how his relationship with you made him more comfortable with… all parts of himself.
You slap his chest, (not that it does anything), a s pout, your brows furrowed. “You’re not funny.” He send you a soft smile, something that should be uncharacteristic for a man of his size, but it works on you, like it usually does.
He presses his lips together before hoisting you up onto an empty display, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear and out of your face. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m pretty.” Within a minute of staring at your unamused face, he’s howling in laughter, snickering to himself like he’s the comedian of the year.
And without a moment of warning, you’re sealing his lips with a kiss, sending a tingle all the way to the tips of your fingers, and he’s parting his lips to deepen it even further. His hands palm just above your ass, and you gaze at him with half-lidded eyes, softly running your thumb over his rough cheek, and it feels like paradise until—
“Hey! I thought this was a roommates only grocery trip?”
You and Jason both roll your eyes at the voice, and with varying levels of intensity, reply in unison.
“Shut up, Roy!”
Nothing made you shiver like the husky, low voice of BRUCE WAYNE whispering in your ear from behind you. It was an action that sent your poor heart into overdrive, but here, in this shop that was clearly out of your tax bracket (they had mannequins for diamond embellished puppy collars, for God’s sake) it was as if he was doing it just to show that you were at his mercy.
Not a bad place to be, if you thought about it.
“Try on the dress,” his voice is baritone, and he isn’t using his usual, suave business tone. No, this is the voice he uses when he wants something, and when he’s sure that he’s going to get it. It was like a spell was cast on you, and all you wanted to do was exactly what he said. You weren’t sure you really needed a spell for that anyway.
But still, you hesitated. The dress in question was an Oscar de la Renta mermaid cut gown, in pitch black, no doubt matching Bruce’s own personal aesthetic. The only hesitation? The price. You balked instantly when you glanced at the bill for the first time. Shit, you knew that a custom made dress that didn’t even have a tag on it would be more than your yearly rent. “It’s… 15,000 dollars! Bruce, I can’t accept this.”
He frowned, making you notice the soft wrinkles starting to appear on his face. God, that man took way too much stress for his own good. You’d tried warning against it, but when did he ever listen to anyone but himself (and Alfred)?
“Pocket change, darling. And it’s your first gala, I don’t want you to be wearing something you’ve worn before.” He lightly rubs his fingers against your waist, a promise of something else to come once you accept.
“It’s…” you look down. “It’s a lot. Are you sure?”
“Never been surer. Now, why don’t you look at matching jewelry?”
#batfam#batfamily#bruce wayne#dc batman#jason todd#jason todd x reader#dick grayson x reader#tim drake#tim drake x reader#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne#robin#batman#bruce wayne x reader#dick grayson
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big flirt!
MDNI 18+
summary: your friends force you to go out to a gay bar with them, and ellie buys you a drink.
content/tw: alcohol mention, subtop!ellie, slightly dom/switch!reader, reader and ellie are both drunk, face sitting(r!receiving), tribbing, strap-on(r!recieving), reader is called “girl” once or twice, afab!reader, reader is neither masc nor fem, college!ellie and reader, astrophysics major!ellie
notes: i left the ending written in away that i might add another part to this fic! lmk if u want that lol
┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °
“hey, 6 o’clock, there’s a certified hottie staring at you-“ one of your well-meaning friends tells you, motioning (not very) discreetly behind you.
you turn around and your jaw nearly drops. the girl staring at you is stunning, with her dark auburn hair and flannel worn over a wife-beater, sitting at the bar and sipping her drink. you make eye contact with her momentarily, and turn back to your friend, mary, with wide eyes.
mary laughs, “are you gonna go for it?”
your friends had forced you to go out to this gay bar with the intention of meeting new people after a break up that left you a complete wreck. it’d been about 3 months since your ex broke the news that they weren’t in love with you anymore, and it made any kind of romantic prospects leave a bitter taste in your mouth till this day. not to mention, you’re wayyy too drunk at this point to be on your A-game with flirting. you make a face and mary groans.
“come on, dude! she’s gorgeous, clearly interested, what else could you ask for?”
you make another face, “just because she’s staring doesn’t mean that she’s necessarily interested-“
“how about if she’s walking over to you right now? does that make her interested?”
you hear someone clear their throat behind you, and you give mary a murderous look before turning to the stranger with a smile.
she gives you a slightly awkward smile in return, “hey. i, um, i’m sorry if this is forward, but could i buy you a drink?”
your stomach is absolutely in knots, but you nod. “yeah, i’d love that.”
the stranger gives you a relieved smile in return, extending her hand to you, “i’m ellie. what’s your drink?”
you give her your name, “-and just a rum and coke, thank you so much.”
ellie’s clearly pretty drunk as well, which makes you feel a little better. she leads you back over to the spot at the bar she was sitting at, giving you her hand to help as you hop onto the excessively tall bar seats. she gives the bar tender your drink order and orders another whiskey on the rocks for herself.
“so, do you come to this bar a lot?” you ask, and inwardly cringe at yourself. ‘i basically just asked “so, you come here often?” great.’
ellie makes a so-so motion with her hand, “sometimes, not very often though. i study astrophysics so i don’t usually have the free time to deal with a hangover.”
your eyebrows raise and your drunk brain speaks before you think, “wow, smart girl.”
ellie’s cheeks flush a little, and she looks down, “i don’t know about that, but i’m really passionate about it, which is more than half the battle, i think.”
you scoff, “please, you’re literally studying rocket science. you can’t convince me that you’re not smart now.”
ellie laughs a little, “okay, then i’ll just shut up and take the compliment. thank you.”
the bar tender gives you two your drinks and ellie takes a sip of her own, “so, what do you do?”
you take a sip of your own drink, “i’m a student right now too, i’m actually studying-“
suddenly, you hear a familiar beat in the background, and you stop talking, a (likely goofy) smile growing on your face, “oh my god, i fucking love this song. nicki minaj literally cannot miss.”
ellie laughs brightly at that, raising an eyebrow, “i absolutely fucking agree. do you wanna dance?”
“really?”
ellie nods, taking a large gulp of her whiskey, “for sure. i couldn’t live with myself knowing i cheated a pretty girl like you out of a dance break.”
you giggle and nod, chugging the rest of your drink faster than you probably should. ellie takes your hand and leads you out the the dance floor where there’s a large crowd of people dancing together. you pull ellie against you, your actions emboldened by the alcohol in your system. ellie immediately goes to hold on your hips, your bodies moving against each other.
you don’t really think to much about how you’re dancing, just letting your body move how it wants to. before you even realize what you’re doing, you’ve turned around in ellie’s hold, grinding your ass back against her hips. when you realize what’s happening, you nearly stop, but when you feel the tight grip of ellie’s hands on your hips and the way she’s grinding back into you, you relax. you stand back up straight, and wrap your arm up and behind you, holding onto the back of ellie’s head, which is now tucked against your neck. when you feel her lips against your jugular, you inhale sharply, pressing more into her.
you feel her kisses trail down to your shoulder, and you thank your good luck for deciding to wear a tank top. you feel her pelvis digging into your ass, and you can’t be sure because the music is so loud, but you swear you hear her moan.
you turn back around in her arms, and before either of you realize what’s happening, you’re locked into a heated kiss. your arms wrap around her neck, and one of her hands sneaks down from your hips to squeeze your ass. you moan into her mouth, and she takes the opportunity for her tongue to explore your mouth. when you separate, you’re both panting.
“wanna get an uber back to mine?” she asks loudly over the blasting music, and you nod right away.
——
the uber driver for the ride back will likely leave ellie with a low rating, thanks to the two of you not being able to detach your mouths from each other for longer than 5 seconds, but you two eventually make it back to ellie’s apartment.
once you’re in her bathroom, you push her back onto her bed between kisses and straddle her. she kisses your neck and chest, pushing your tank top up. you take it off for her and you’re left in your bra. ellie grins and starts kissing the exposed parts of your breasts.
“god, you’re so fucking pretty-“ ellie says as she takes off your bra, immediately latching onto one of your nipples. you moan softly and hold onto her head, your fingers threading through her hair.
you feel her warm tongue smooth over the hardened bud before switching to the other to give it the same attention. as she does, her hands come up to squeeze your tits. she’s still sucking and nipping gently as she looks up at you, her doe eyes stirring the heat in your belly. when she unlatches; her lips are a little swollen and wet with saliva.
“what am i allowed to do? what do you need?” ellie asks, smoothing her hands down your waist and hips.
you shiver slightly, “anything.”
ellie starts kissing your neck again, sucking a hickey into the crook of your neck, “you’re gonna need to be more detailed then that, doll.”
you bite your lip, your tipsy brain racing, “i need you to fuck me.”
ellie pulls back, a wide grin growing on her face, and she kisses your collarbone. “jesus christ, i’d fucking love too… can you sit on my face first?”
your exhale sharply and nod. ellie lies back on the bed and you slide off ellie, kicking off your jeans, leaving your underwear on, before crawling back up ellie’s body.
ellie grips your thighs as you position yourself over her face. “fuck, you smell good… you this wet for me, babe?”
you nod again, your cheeks hot.
her smile is a little cocky as she looks up at your face, and licks over the wet fabric of your underwear. your legs jolt a little and you let out a shaky breath.
ellie shoves her face further between your legs, and you swear you hear her whimper. she pulls your underwear to the side, and licks a broad stripe up your cunt.
you moan, your eyes falling shut as you hold onto her headboard.
she pulls back, “i said sit on my face, babe, not hover-“
ellie’s hands pull on your thighs so you rest your weight on her face fully. ellie becomes borderline ravenous, her tongue lapping at your pussy, slurping you up as her fingers dig into the fat of your ass and thighs.
you bite on your fist to muffle your loud moans, but ellie will have none of that, her arm reaching up to pull yours away from your face.
after a moment, ellie sticks her tongue fully out, letting you rub your clit against it as you please. your breaths become more and more unsteady.
ellie’s hands on your ass help guide your hips, and when she moves to suck on your clit, the suction makes your orgasm hit you like a freight train, bucking your hips against ellie’s face.
when you’ve come down, ellie helps you off of your face, and rummages through her drawer to grab her strap.
you stop her, your hand against her chest, “i wanna feel you against me first.”
ellie doesn’t need to hear anymore, and quickly starts taking off her clothes as you take off your underwear. she moves so she’s on top of you, hiking one of your legs over her shoulder. the moment her wet cunt grinds into yours, you both moan, your eyes rolling back into your head.
“you feel so fucking perfect, so fuckin good for me-“ she rambles
ellie starts thrusting her hips against yours, and you watch her small, perky tits bounce with each movement. your hand trails up to squeeze one of them and she whimpers softly. when you pinch her nipple between your fingers, she moans gutturally and moves against you faster. you’re not at all in control of how loud you’re moaning at this point.
“look at you, sweet girl, so fucking gorgeous-“
it isn’t long before your oversensitive clit is being brought closer to another orgasm. you make obscene noises as you cum again, ellie’s eyes trained on your face the whole time.
“there you go- let me cum all over that pretty- ah, fucking- mmmh, pussy-“ ellie grunts before cumming a few moments after you.
you both take about 5 seconds to recover before she’s scrambling to grab the strap. once ellie has it on, you lick your lips, staring at it.
“can i ride it?”
ellie’s eyes go big, and she basically throws herself onto the bed, lying back and patting her thigh.
you giggle and climb on top of her, kissing her lips again. she kisses you back eagerly, grabbing your hips and thrusting her hips up, but you pull back.
“nope. hands off and stay still.” you order, and her already very dilated eyes look like pools of black at this point. she nods, biting her lip.
you take the strap and run the tip of it through your folds. ellie whines as she watches this, her hips bucking a little with her fists clenching the sheets below her.
“hey, what did i just say?” you ask, a mischievous smile on your face.
she takes a shaky breath, “sorry.”
you laugh a little, “so needy, ellie.”
you make eye contact with her as your hand travels down your own body, taking the time to squeeze and play with your own breasts. meanwhile, ellie looks like she’s practically salivating.
your hand travels down your stomach to your cunt, rubbing your own clit for a second as ellie watches, her mouth agape.
your fingers spread your folds and dip inside you for a moment, curling up and making you moan.
ellie is desperate at this point, “please, jesus fucking christ, i need you so bad, you don’t under-“
you withdraw your fingers, giving ellie a look. “hmmm… sounds like you need something to keep that mouth of yours busy, huh?”
you bring your slick-covered fingers up to her mouth. “open.”
ellie immediately opens her mouth and starts sucking off your fingers, whimpers muffled.
you giggle, “awww, you’re too fucking cute… now keep sucking on those, yeah?”
without warning, you sink down onto ellie’s strap and start bouncing. ellie whines, her eyes fixated on your tits as they bounce with you, still eagerly sucking on your fingers. ellie’s eyes fall shut for a moment as the base of the harness gives her clit the friction she’s craving.
you keep bouncing on her strap, watching the fucked out glaze in ellie’s eyes, half-lidded and fully dilated.
“awww… you just needed to get fucked, that’s all… look how pretty you are…” you tease and ellie starts whimpering like she’s gonna come from your words alone.
after a few minutes, you start to tire and you take out the fingers in her mouth, slowing down, “now, fuck me like you mean it, ellie.”
those words are all the permission ellie need before flipping you over and drilling her hips into yours.
“-pussy’s so fuckin- fuck, so fuckin’ tight for me, babe-“ ellie whimpers, tucking her face into your neck.
you would find it more amusing that ellie is acting like this strap is physically attached to her if she wasn’t making you feel so fucking good. you cling onto her as she fucks you, slamming into you just right, over and over.
“i need to cum, please let me cum- i can’t fucking-“ ellie rambles, and you cut her off
“i’m close too, baby, it’s okay-“ you pant, your eyes clenching shut as she fucks you into your third orgasm.
ellie’s hips bottom out and she grinds herself deep into you as she cums against the base of the harness, her moans needy and breathy.
when you both start coming down, she pulls out and tosses the strap away wordlessly, going back to cuddle against you.
you’re completely exhausted (and both of you still slightly drunk) as you let her spoon you, barely saying anything before slipping into a deep sleep.
———
“so you just… left? without even saying goodbye?” mary asks over the phone as you walk into the music building on your college campus, lugging your beat up guitar with you.
“what was i supposed to do? make her breakfast and thank her for the 3 orgasms?” you ask, holding the door open for a girl running in behind you.
the girl gives you a look and your face gets hot, realizing she overheard what you said.
“i mean… maybe? she was super hot,” mary responds, slightly agitated
you groan, “yeah, she was hot, but i barely learned anything about her and we were both drunk. not necessarily promising grounds for a budding relationship.”
you walk up the steps to the room you’re headed to, checking your phone again for the right room number.
“yeah, but still. she seemed like she would be cool,” mary justifies and you sigh.
“well, if i ever see her again while we’re not drunk and horny, maybe i’ll ask her out. but right now, that’s really not a priority.” you say, finding the right practice room.
mary starts to talk again but you interrupt her, “i’m sorry, mary, but i have to go.”
“wait, why? i know you don’t have class right now.”
“i’m taking those private guitar lessons to satisfy that extracurricular credit, remember? it’s my first lesson, so i really don’t wanna be late,“ you say, and mary sighs.
“okay, whatever. have fun, and i’ll talk to you after?”
you agree and end the phone call, looking to check the room number again before you walk in.
your forced, ‘make a good impression’ smile is immediately wiped off your face when you see the familiar auburnette playing the guitar in front of you.
she looks up at you and her cheeks go red almost instantaneously.
you say, “sorry, i must be in the wrong room- i have a lesson-“
ellie’s eyebrows raise and she lets out a slow sigh, “you, uh, you have a lesson?”
you nod, gripping your guitar case.
ellie laughs a little, like this is some sort of prank that was pulled on her:
“then you’re in the right room, because i’m pretty sure i’m supposed to teach you guitar this semester.”
you sharply exhale the breath you were holding in as the realization of what’s going on sets in, “but… you’re an astrophysics major?”
ellie chuckles again, “and a music minor, babe.”
you restrain the groan that you desperately want to make, your stomach sinking.
ellie pats the empty seat next to her, “well… let’s get started then. you know any bar chords yet?”
#rose writes#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#tlou2#tlou#ellie williams fanfic#ellie x reader#ellie x y/n#ellie williams smut#ellie tlou#ellie x fem reader#ellie x masc reader
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asking for a friend, can i get hcs for Bi-han, Kuai Liang, Kung Lao, Liu Kang, Kenshi, and Raiden with an s/o with big boobs? im a simp for all these men..i mean what??
Just the very sight of you is enough to have Bi-Han collar feeling far too tight around him. His eyes watch the dips and curves of your body and his mouth is watering
In public, he remains restrained in a physical sense. But his eyes? Those eyes hunt you like a tiger that stalks it prey, waiting for that perfect moment to pounce and consume
When in private, he wants your clothes off quickly. He's pulling, he's tearing just to see more and more of you. Those hips should not be concealed. Those pillowy breasts must be held in hands most calloused
During sex his lips always find your chest. If he goes unchecked, there he will remain for hours, suckling and licking. He can't get enough of your breasts, often finding himself rather lost within them
Someone help this man. He is sweating under his collar, practically burning up when you walk by. It's perverted, it's wretched how his eyes follow the swing of your hips. Yet, he won't look away
Try as he might to avert his gaze, there is just something about your hips that make his mind spiral. He thinks thoughts most vile and the blush on his face so evident.
When he has you alone, he is worshipping your body. Warm hands will run up your thighs before hands sink into fleshy hips. He cannot get enough of you
Prefers when you ride him so he can see your breasts move and feel your hips come colliding down on him. No thick walls in the world can conceal the moans you bring from him
Now Kung Lao likes to talk big game act cocky but the sight of rounded hips and shapely thighs? His mouth is suddenly dry and his jaw is slack
Definitely tries to flirt with you often but gets distracted by what he's seeing and ends up turning rosy pink. So much for his expert flirting skills
You bring him the closest to heaven when you ride him. His hand covers his eyes, the mere sight of you undressed and exposed overwhelming him
He's panting, cursing, telling you how beautiful you are and how good you feel wrapped around his cock right now. Kung Lao wants to keep you there forever but he is provided no such paradise as pleasure overtakes him
Even a god is subject to temptations and Liu Kang's temptation is you. Your curves live in his mind. The swell of your chest. They are all consuming
Glowing eyes scan you up and down and Liu Kang thinks for a moment much longer than he will admit what it would be like to bury his head between your thighs
When the two of you are alone, he does not need to wonder that anymore. That is the first place he drawn to and there he will remain
He cannot help but thrive when your thighs press against him. The God of Fire would moan low and wanting. He never wants to leave your shapely thighs
While sight may not be his strongest sense, he still can feel you under his palms. Honestly, Kenshi prefers it that way.
Sento can provide him help to receive your imagine which Kenshi does well to remember. Though he seems to prefer tracing you likeness with you
When in bed, he wants to feel absolutely all of you and so he does. For hours he will comb your body with fingers over each and every one of your curves
Loves to take you from behind so he feel you ass clap against his hips. Kenshi is practically drunk off how your skin ripples with each thrust
Raiden is flustered, overly so. Those hips, your breasts...would his hand even be able to encompass them. He isn't sure but his thoughts are daring him to find out
Tries not to look at your chest but they are practically staring at him. Raiden will hold eye contact with you but ever so slowly his eyes drift to your cleavage and suddenly his throat is tight
In the privacy of the bedroom, his hands are trembling, shaking when he gets to touch you for the first time. Raiden is overwhelmed with your curves and he is not sure where he should touch first
Don't worry though, he'll find his rhythm and once he does, there is no part of you left untouched. It's going to be quite the long excursion for the two of you
Havik loves your curves. He sees them as more flesh to carve and paint with crimson
He does not hide his attraction to your hips and breasts. Havik will happily grope onto you, whispering in your ear just how much he wants you
And Havik will take you hard and unforgiving. Teeth bite into your rounded flesh again and again, covering them in bruising bite marks
You end up painted and well carved and Havik is sated but for how much longer? Well your curves are ever tempting
Really enjoys your curves probably more than he should but who is going to stop him? Definitely not you
Takes great pride in seeing you. He proclaims to everyone how curvy and attractive you are and how you are his partner and no one else's
Loves when you ride him. It is the the best way to see all your curves and features in action. One hand is on a hip while another gropes and plays with your breast
Smirks the whole time, vocalizing just how attractive you look and all the atrocities he will commit to your body and so he does but you don't complain
You are simply enchanting to Rain. He wishes to worship your gloriously curved body in ways that are pure sin
Can't help but stare at you when you walk by nor can he avert his gaze when speaking to you. He wants you and he will not hide that
Spends much time glorifying your body when he has you alone. You are his goddess and he is the ever devoted apostle
Loves to grip onto your rear while he lays himself into you. He wants to feel your flesh mold and move under his fingers
#mortal kombat#mk1 2023#mortal kombat fanworks#mortal kombat headcanons#mk1#mortal kombat x reader#bi han#mk1 bi han#sub zero#mortal kombat smut#liu kang#liu kang mk1#bi han x you#bi han x reader#liu kang x reader#mk kung lao#kung lao#kung lao x reader#mk1 kuai liang#kuai liang#kuai liang x you#kuai liang x reader#kenshi takahashi#kenshi x reader#mk raiden#raiden x reader#havik#mk havik#havik x reader#reiko x reader
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[Dance with The Devil] [movie!Shadow x reader headcanons]
Summary: a collection of random headcanons/small scenarios based on my "Click Click Boom" post for Shadow!
Word count: 1.5k
Disclaimer (1): Harkness scale people, he is of age and can consent and is sentient. I'm allowed to want to kiss the hedgehog.
Disclaimer (2): This can be read as Romantic or Platonic! Though I did write it to be implied romance.
A/N: Yall asked for more, who am I to deny the people (I imagine kissing him every second of the day). I tried to hit a lot of asks all in one to give eveyrone what they asked for! I hope y'all enjoy! Reblogs and comments are super appreciated and motivate me to write more <3
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Shadow is so extremely overprotective of you, borderline to an unhealthy agree but is it really when you're welcoming to it??
You, by all means, shouldn't encourage him. He's one of the strongest beings on the planet. He can't just make threats, God knows if he'll act out on them.
You can't help but let it happen though, a warm fuzzy feeling deep in your chest clouds your judgment for a few moments. Knowing that Shadow sees you as someone worth protecting, of caring for.
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Shadow baring his fangs at Sonic and fucking growling is new though.
"Shadow did you just- did you just fucking growl?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sonic was just trying to hug me dude, relax.'
"He'll get his scent all over you. No."
Shadow turns his back on you, so he misses the blush that overtakes your entire face.
He has an inkling though, if the strangled cry from your throat is any indication.
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Riding ! With ! Him !!! He takes you on drives all the time, it helps him clear his head and it's his way of asking for physical contact without giving you idea, feeling you against his back and your body pressed up against his does wonder for his mental health, he'll purposefully take longer routes and side roads at night to keep you close.
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If you fall asleep on the couch, Shadow isn't gonna curl up with you, but he's next to the couch, head propped up against the arm rest as he watches over you. He's well aware he could just teleport you both to your room, but you look too peaceful :( and he knows he takes up all your time and energy, so he rather let you rest.
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Shadow always walks behind you. It's a nervous habit. If he wanders behind, he has the perfect view to scan for threats.
You go to tell him he's being paranoid, but stop yourself. The last person he cared for died, the girl who gave him a purpose. You shut your joke down fast, shaking your head when Shadow raises an eye bridge at your expression.
"Do you want to hold my hand?" You go with that instead.
"Absolutely not."
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Please god can you imagine shopping for him, getting his leather jackets and what not bc he fucking deserves it, especially when you nervously claim that he needs the correct gear for riding his motorcycle and he hits you with:
"That's useless, I can easily chaos control if need be."
BUT HE DOESN'T RIDE WITHOUT IT EVER !!!! You even got it monogrammed, and he runs his thumb across it often, scoffing at himself when he realizes, snatching his hand away.
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Shadow likes to be useful, even though you tell him again and again that he doesn't owe you anything, he doesn't listen.
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If you wear makeup and ever fall asleep in it, you can't ever seem to remember if it was you who took it off, your memories jumbling up together to the point you're not sure.
It was Shadow, he knows you don't like showing others your bare face, which he thinks is ridiculous as shit, he likes you as you are, whether with makeup or bare, you're you.
Please I could cry imagining him so gently taking a makeup wipe and rubbing small circles to get that waterproof eyeliner off of you, eyes laser focused into his task. I'm gonna throw up.
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In the colder months, he's susceptible to being more mellow and relaxed. Despite being the ultimate life form and having fur, he still gets cold and hates the feeling.
This brings me to the fact that bro steals your blankets, he has no remorse and will walk right into your room to take your heated blanket. He's an asshole.
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Fully believes that nicknames are stupid and that they don't matter, the best he's gonna do for you is call you by your first Intial (ex: Teddy = T) It's rare that he'll do call you by it regardless, but beggers cannot be choosers.
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Getting matching bangles to match his inhibitor rings!! Makes him go stupid for a second, brain computing that oh??? You want to match him?? He's gonna tease you, but when you threaten to just take them off, he immediately goes quiet.
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The subject of being sick came up often in asks, and he struggles really hard with it. It's not obvious, but if you look closely, his quills are pin straight, and he's easily more agitated.
He's not mad at you, it's not your fault, it's just that seeing you curl up into bed brings back so many bad memories of when Maria has flare ups and couldn't leave her bed.
It made him feel useless. His whole reason for being was to help cure illness, maybe not the common cold. He's aware of that, but the point remains.
Shadow gets more docile, even going to ask Maddie what to do. The woman offers to come over and take care of you instead, but Shadow shuts her down quickly. He's more than capable, and he's a little overprotective.
"Are you sure? I don't mind, I don't have anything going on."
"That isn't necessary."
"But it might be better if it's m-"
"I can take care of them."
It's hard to argue with a 5ft hedgehog that can easily snap your neck, so she regents and hands him over some cold and flu medicine along with painkillers and vaporub and instructions. He looks so silly with all of it in his arms, Gatorade, water, the medicine, some food, but it warms your heart. You haven't had anyone really look after you when you were sick, always left to fend for yourself, so it's nice.
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For my period havers, I am on mine, so this made it in:
Shadow using his hands as personal heating pads for your stomach or the small of your back, you can't seem to remember where you put your heating pad so he sits there with you and just, shoves his hand onto your skin, it's added comfort due to his fur.
"Oh my god, that feels good."
You groan into your pillow, curling up into a ball, your back facing the ultimate lifeform.
"Is it really that bad?"
Shadow hums, moving to ever so slightly knead the skin, smirking to himself when you damn near moan at the feeling.
"You know damn fucking well it's that bad."
Shadow snorts.
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Once you're both closer, he allows you to touch him alot more, so long as you ask him first if you can run your fingers over his quills, he finds it soothing, it's common to find you both on the couch, fast asleep together with the TV set to come true crime YouTube video.
Sonic takes a million pictures, to which he sends to Shadow later. The black hedgehog doesn't say anything, but he secretly saves each one.
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Speaking of the others, you try and force him to spend time with team Sonic to varying degrees of success. Mainly the success being if you will also be there and be by his side. The team likes you well enough, always playfully telling you that they can handle Shadow if he ever hurts you.
Which gets them Shadow staring them down, his eyes lighting up as a warning.
You'd think they'd learn that this man doesn't play when it comes to you, but they're a bit stupid.
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When it comes to any insecurities you may have, he shuts that shit down IMMEDIATELY, you think it's because he genuinely doesn't give a fuck, but no, it's because he cares about you and will logically tell you facts. Does it help? It's varying, but he still tries.
Issue with your weight. He doesn't care. Are you healthy? That's all that matters. He's strong enough to lift you up, and he'll demonstrate it on you if need be. He doesn't know who put it into your head that there's any issue with it, but he'll fix it.
"Shadow, can I ask you something?"
"Go on."
"Does my weight ever bother you?"
"I am not like human men."
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You're insecure about talking about your interests/hyperfixations? He actively will sit down and listen, eyes intense as he takes in every single word you're saying. He'll nod and hum, but his ears are flicked towards you, and Shadow will ask questions pertaining about the characters.
The motherfucker is healing you slowly but surely, mentally and sometimes physically.
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No one thinks that Shadow would be a good companion and will make jokes offhandily that they're sorry that YOU'RE stuck with him, and you don't correct them. They don't deserve to know him.
They don't get to know how the lifeform curls up next to you on his bad days, seeking your affection.
The hedgehog who helps you dry the dishes after every meal with a way too focused look on his face.
The Shadow that always cracks dry ass jokes in hopes to make you smile after a long day.
It's your little secret, and it's one you gladly keep to yourself.
"Oh, he's stuck with me." You wave them off with a smug smirk on your face.
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#teddy loves shadow ☆#shadow the hedgehog x reader#shadow x reader#shadow the hedgehog#sonic 3#sonic 3 x reader#sega#sonic the hedgehog#sonic#shadow#sonic the hedgehog x reader
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Shovel Talk(s) Part One
Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four
Steve and Eddie aren't even together when Steve gets the Shovel Talk from Eddie's uncle, but it is what tips Steve into talking to Eddie about his feelings, so he's not upset by it.
They aren't dating, not because he doesn't want Eddie, because he absolutely does. It's just that he wants to be sure Eddie wants him back. There are times when he's sure, when Eddie gets into his space a bit too close, or more often, than he does with anyone else. Eddie calls him a thousand and one nicknames, ranging from sweet to irritating but just when Steve thinks that's a perk left just for him, Eddie hands someone else a new nickname (just the one, a voice in Steve's head that sounds suspiciously like Robin says).
Not that any of that is the point. Wayne wouldn't bother to give Steve a shovel talk at all unless he knew how Eddie felt. Wayne is a man of action, and he's never done anything unless it mattered. Meant something. Steve and Wayne have sat in plenty of (what Steve considers to be) awkward silences because Wayne doesn't talk to fill the void of silence.
The point is, Steve drops Eddie off at the house the government so graciously bought for the Munsons, walks Eddie to the door and giving Eddie a hug goodbye. He stays on the porch until Eddie shuts the door and then nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Wayne call out his name.
"Harrington," Wayne says from the shadows of the wrap around porch.
So, Steve jumps and it's only then he notices that Wayne is sitting at the table and chairs set up on the porch. "Mr. Munson, sir, hi. Hello."
Wayne lets out a chuckle, but it doesn't really sound amused. "I have come to accept that you are nothing like your father, boy, but I do want to make it clear to you, that Eddie means more to me than anything else on this Earth."
"I know, sir."
"I know you do. And while I will forever be grateful that you helped return him to me alive, know that I will not hesitate to make you disappear if you hurt my boy in a way he can't bounce back from."
Steve's not afraid of Wayne, not really, but that doesn't stop him from feeling the need to flee. He doesn't, though, because he'd gotten enough shovel talks from concerned parents in high school, and he knows they can sense weakness. "I can't promise I'd never hurt him, sir, but I can promise it'll never be intentional."
He can't actually see Wayne's face in the darkness but he feels sized up all the same.
"I believe that, Steve," Wayne says, and it's the first time Steve's ever heard his name leave the man's mouth, "now go home."
-
Wayne's shovel talk was expected. Robin's is not.
"You took Eddie on a date date?" She whispers it as though they aren't alone in Steve's living room. They're laying on the floor in a line, heads next to each other so if they turn slightly to the side they can make eye contact. Steve's not sure why they always end up on the floor for Serious Talk Time.
"Yeah," Steve says, looking away from Robin's face to stare up to the ceiling, "I mean, sorta? We can't like... be open that it was a date, but we went to dinner and a movie and it was nice. Shared a popcorn and played footsie under the diner table."
"Whoa," Robin says. "I never thought you'd- didn't think you'd be brave enough to ask him."
"Me either."
"Steve," Robin sounds serious, so Steve turns to look at her. She studies his face for a moment before she's the one to look away, speaks to the ceiling, "be careful with Eddie, yeah?"
"What? Careful how?"
"I just think you could really fuck him up," Robin says. "You're his first boyfriend, right? That's going to set a precedent for relationships that might happen if you two don't work out. And I hate to say this, because I know you've changed, but like, I saw how a lot of those girls you dated in high school ended up when you broke up with them."
Steve's a little hurt, because Robin's his best friend. She should be giving this talk to Eddie, not him. But, also, he understands. He knows that Robin knew about Eddie's sexuality before he did, knows they bonded over being queer while Steve was still figuring himself out.
Steve also knows that Eddie's never been in a relationship before, Eddie'd told him at much when Steve asked him out. Steve doesn't like that Robin implied that he and Eddie will eventually break up, but no matter how much that thought makes Steve's heart ache, he won't know if it'll happen unless it does.
He just doesn't understand why she seems to think he'll be the one breaking Eddie's heart. It could go the other way.
"Did you OD over there?" Robin asks, trying to lighten the mood.
"No," Steve answers, "I'll be careful."
-
They've been on four more dates before Nancy knocks on his door. She doesn't accept his invitation to come inside. Just starts speaking on his doorstep.
"As Eddie's Capital P Soulmate," is how she starts that sentence, and it makes something hurt deep inside Steve as he tries not to think about Robin, "I am obligated to remind you that I do own several guns now. And I don't miss."
"Jesus Christ," Steve says, because even Wayne was more subtle, "I got it."
"Good. I do know you'd never hurt him on purpose," Nancy says but Steve doesn't feel reassured.
He thinks that, if she really didn't think he's going to end up hurting Eddie she wouldn't have said anything at all. "Right."
"Well, good talk Steve," and then she's walking down the driveway and climbing into her car.
He closes the door and goes to the kitchen to get himself a beer, mostly so he has something to do besides stew in his emotions. He wonders if Eddie has been given the shovel talk, too? Maybe Robin did the same thing Nancy just did. Showed up unprompted, threatened Eddie with some sort of bodily harm, and then just left.
Steve grabs the phone and dials Eddie's number.
"Hello?" Eddie's voice greets him, albeit questioningly.
"Eddie, it's Steve."
"Oh, hello sweetheart," Eddie says, "are you calling for business or pleasure?"
Steve laughs, "business."
"Boo!"
"Listen, uh, I had a question. I just wanted to know if anyone's said anything to you. About us. Or, y'know, specifically about us and our relationship?"
"Uh, not really? A few congratulations, I guess. Why? Did someone say something?" Eddie's voice is level, almost too level, so Steve knows he's trying to keep cool.
"Oh, no! No! I mean, aside from the scary shovel talk from- Wayne, everyone's been surprisingly cool about it. Very supportive," Steve says and even though it's true, everyone they've told has been cool about it, it feels a little bit like a lie.
Eddie laughs, "I can't believe my uncle gave you a shovel talk! You know, I keep expecting to get one from Robin but so far nothing. She must think you're safe in my capable hands."
Steve is safe in Eddie's hand, he thinks, but that doesn't stop the sting that goes through him. "Of course, she does. You've been a perfect boyfriend."
There's a pause before Eddie's voice comes through the phone, soft and quiet, "I'm glad you said so. I want to be. For you."
"You're not allowed to say those kinds of things when you aren't within kissing distance, babe," Steve says, because if he doesn't add humor to this conversation, he's going to tell Eddie he loves him instead, and even Steve knows that saying that a month into dating is too soon, especially over the phone where he can't see Eddie's reaction.
Eddie laughs and makes kissing sounds at him before the conversation shifts to chatting about the day and making plans for the weekend.
-
Steve is trying really hard to not be the person he was in high school but every time he gets to the point where he's being a better person, someone brings up how he used to be. Shoves it back into his face that no matter what Steve does he can't outrun his past.
One such time is shortly after Steve and Eddie accidentally come out as a couple to all of Hellfire. Steve was just dropping off the boys and had stepped inside to chat a bit. Once game time had arrived it had and Steve made to leave, they'd (he and Eddie) had been on autopilot. Eddie'd whined 'where's my goodbye kiss?' and Steve had stepped over, kissed him goodbye, and was out the door before it had actually computed.
Steve had burst back through the door, rushing back to Eddie, because no way in Hell was he going to leave his boyfriend to deal with whatever the consequences would be alone.
It had been absolute chaos at the table with people shouting over each other.
"Of all the people you could be with, you picked Steve!? You could do better!" Mike had whined, and Steve had thought for sure he was the only one who had heard Mike until he saw Will punch his arm and hiss his own 'don't be a dick' at Mike.
It took almost half an hour to calm everyone down. It was a relief to know that Eddie had come out to his bandmates/the older Hellfire members already. The kids took it in stride, in the end, and Eddie had shoo'd Steve away.
Jeff had excused himself, too, and Steve thought he was just going to use the bathroom but instead he followed Steve outside.
Ah. Steve knows what's coming.
"Harrington," Jeff says, "can't say I'm excited that you're the secret boyfriend Eddie's constantly sighing wistfully about. I'm sure Wayne's already threatened you," And Robin, and Nancy, and Mike doesn't think he's good enough, "but if you hurt Eddie-"
"I get it! There will be dire consequences if I hurt Eddie," Steve snaps, not down for hearing it anymore. He stomps to his car and peels away from the curb without bothering to look back.
-
If he's being honest, Steve didn't even know he had a breaking point with shovel talks until he gets his fifth one from Dustin.
It's not even a shovel talk. It's just a single sentence, said almost a month after Dustin learned about their relationship. He's dropping Dustin off after their DnD game. Normally Claudia picks him up, but she's busy tonight and asked Steve to do it.
"Alright, Henderson, safely delivered."
"Thanks, Steve," Dustin says, unbuckles his seatbelt, and opens the door, before turning back to Steve. He just looks at him for a moment.
"What?"
"I'm happy for you and Eddie. Just, don't hurt him, ok?"
He nods his head but can't say anything. Dustin grabs his backpack, shoots him a smile, and climbs out. Steve does wait until Dustin closes the front door behind him before putting the car back in gear.
He manages to get home, somehow, because Steve doesn't fully remember the drive. It's not that his mind was so focused on something else that made him fail to take in his surroundings, but rather that his mind wasn't even a part of his body anymore.
One moment he was pulling away from the Henderson residence, and the next, he was home, just standing in his kitchen in the dark. And now that his thoughts are back, or easier to process, he finds himself wondering why everyone thinks that he's going to be the one to hurt Eddie.
How many people has he hurt that this is his reputation? Is it inevitable that he will hurt Eddie? Is it truly just a matter of time until he breaks Eddies heart? Why is everyone so convinced that he will?
Briefly the thought occurs to him that maybe he should call up Eddie and break up with him right now, before Eddie has a chance to get in deep enough that Steve could break his heart, but just the thought of it breaks Steve's heart, so he's not going to do that. Doesn't want to do that. That would just be punishing Eddie for something he didn't do.
None of this is Eddie's fault, and Steve's an asshole for even thinking of breaking up with him because of it. Which feeds him back into the loop of thinking that maybe everyone is right about him. He is an asshole and will someday hurt Eddie, perhaps even on purpose.
He loves Eddie. He's in love with Eddie. But does loving him mean proving his friends wrong? Or does it mean leaving him before they're proven right?
He wants to ask everyone why they think he'll hurt Eddie.
He wants to ask everyone why they don't care if he's the one that gets hurt.
#steddie#my fic#we like making steve a sad emotional mess right guys?#steve-centric#we gotta make the boy Sad so that his boyfriend can fix him#is that healthy? not IRL but this is fanfic and if i want Love to solve all the problems then im allowed to do that#only itll be in part two#that might get written one day#is steve putting words into his friends' mouths#yeah duh the boy needs therapy but its the 80s so hes not getting any
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Monster trio are the type to…
summary: some romantic headcanons. NSFW content is marked aside. this post might change as I always get ideas to add new ones hehe~
Sanji the type of guy that showers you with compliments but once he gets one back, he CRUMBLES.
Zoro the type of guy that gives affection when you least expect it, smiling fondly at you when you’re looking away.
Luffy the type of guy that would go far and beyond to see you smile, would turn the world upside down if anything made you cry.
Sanji the type of guy who melts under your touch, searches for it, craves it.
Zoro the type of guy that can hardly keep eye contact without getting flustered.
Luffy the type of guy that calls your name more times than you can count throughout the day, even for the smallest of reasons.
Sanji the type of guy that buys you gifts, gives you flowers on daily basis, makes you every meal of the day and gives the best comfort hugs in the world.
Zoro the type of guy that shows love, does not tell it. He’d cover you with a blanket when you’re sleeping, ask if you’ve eaten or find you a jacket or anything that can keep you warm when you’re feeling cold. He’d go out of his way to do something he’s not familiar with or can’t do, all because you need it. He’s very observant so even if you try to stop him from putting too much effort, he’d probably scold you and deliver anyways.
Luffy the one whose gaze softens when he sees you having fun, always joining you in your favourite activities as your presence alone makes him distant from any glimpse of loneliness.
Sanji the one who loves having you in his arms when you’re sleeping together, making sure to kiss you good morning and spend a little time stroking your sleeping face in awe as he reminds himself how lucky he is to have you by his side.
Zoro the one who accompanies you shopping although it’s not much of his interest. However, what interests him is the time when you try out those pretty dresses at the shop and he gets to help you choose while loving seeing you dress up.That and also this man is paranoid he doesn’t want you to be alone where you can be targeted for any reason, be it for assassination or even just a simple approach from a guy. That would get Zoro fuming.
Luffy the only one who laughs at your stupid jokes and hears you yap over and over because there is a spark about you that he absolutely adores and loves seeing you shine like that.
Sanji who is so worried about you all the time. He wants you to be safe and would take extra caution to ensure your safety. He can’t lose someone who finally loves him the way he has craved all his life to be loved.
Zoro who was surprised to find himself shedding tears at one of your handwritten letters for him before you left for some months. He manned up quickly but your letter is always in his pocket, which he repeatedly reads when he’s alone.
Luffy who doesn’t share food with anyone, but always likes to sit down and eat beside you. Well at least you are happy that he doesn’t steal from your plate, but at times you catch him staring fondly at your face and you wonder if you have something stuck in your teeth.
Sanji who stargazes, naming stars in the sky after you. Holding your hand and caressing it gently, not missing a heartbeat without being able to tell you how much you mean to him.
NSFW
Sanji who loves when you ride him, he makes the moment so much more intimate with the way he holds your waist and pulls you close so gently although he’s overstimulated and urges that he controls well sometimes, push him to be more than just gentle.
Zoro who is surpassingly tender. His hands although scarred are careful and soft and yet so big that both of your tits are grabbed by his right one as the other travels down your body.
Luffy who is so loud during sex. He moans, groans, whispers and cusses out, calls out your name so messily.
Sanji who was not into bondage at first but once you cuff him and go down on him, he’s now convinced that he’s into whatever you do. The cook is a blushing mess as he glances down at they way you play with him, meeting your eyes that seduce further and enable him the frustration of not being able to touch you back which he compensates by his suave, always on point remarks. ‘I didn’t know prisoners were treated so well, mon cherie~’
Zoro who absolutely loves it when you suck him, gripping your hair as pushing his head backward, leaving out the most gruesome groans as he looks down at you with a smirk on his flushed face, seemingly breathless. His enemies won’t ever catch him like that but your mouth isn’t making just his heart throb.
Luffy whose kisses are the best. Tongue plays with yours in a way that leaves you completely mesmerised, wondering how he does it. They’re always so soft and wet, and when he gets rough, love bites are normal.
Sanji who eats you out so so good. The way your hips go crazy as you grip your hair and he tries his best to keep you in control, pushing your legs apart as he completely devours you.
Zoro who loves having you on his lap, groping your ass tightly as slapping it slightly as you move it. Your tits pressed on his chest make him eager as he conquers your neck with the best hickeys that only he can give and is proud to do so.
Luffy who loves having you from behind, pushing your hair out of your back as he traces his hands all over it. He leans to whisper the nastiest stuff in your ear as he keep thrusting from behind, making you a moaning mess.
Sanji who rises you up to the kitchen counter for a quick make out session. This man loves missionary, having your bouncing tits right below him as your hands scratch his back, moaning his name over and over again. The eye contact is so important to him, he gets lost in your eyes, and that lewd expression on your face only turns him on more, making him thrust deeper into you, pressing his chest against yours and whispering sweet praises in your ear.
Zoro who grabs your ass multiple times a day. Sometimes you lean over just to tease him and he tries to keep a poker face but I’m reality he’d love to lean you against any counter and have you here and there.
Luffy who gets rough sometimes. He doesn’t degenerate in the classic way, however he teases you so sexily which obviously is not intended but comes naturally to him. ‘you’re really so needy for me, aren’t you?’
Sanji who fingers so good. He’s so good with his hands, making you cum so hard, making you daydream and often finding yourself staring at his hands while he’s cooking and blush while reminiscing on the last time he gave you the most intense orgasm of your life with his fingers alone.
Zoro who fucks hard when he’s drunk. He seldom gets drunk but when he’s drinking he’s usually in a good mood and you love that because those are the times he takes sex slowly, explores your body through before absolutely losing control once he’s inside you.
Sanji who is shy at first to iniate sex but then gets creative to do so. He’d get you a new lingerie, make your favourite dessert and say that it’s saved for later tonight. At times he loves teasing you when he senses you’re horny, making the clash between you so awaited and anticipated that you both cum so fucking fast.
#one piece#sanji#one piece sanji#op sanji#black leg sanji#zoro smut#roanoa zoro#op zoro#zoro x reader#one piece zoro#sanji x reader#sanji smut#luffy headcanons#zoro headcanons#sanji headcanons#luffy x reader#one piece luffy#monkey d. luffy#monster trio#one piece headcanons#opla#opla zoro#opla luffy#opla sanji#opla smut
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dew mornings and the bond of eternity – tartaglia [nsfw]
synopsis: your angel of a boyfriend makes sure that you know just how well loved you are
notes: for my favorite harbinger, idk what this is but breaking my fic virginity for him with this :]
warnings: fem!reader, reader is insecure, russian pet names, mating press, childe has a foul mouth, biting and marking, slight possession, praise, childe is called by his real name, slight oral fixation, implied oral (female receiving), he is extremely lovesick
you never learned to what extent someone could go when being attentive and observant until you met your boyfriend.
you hate how ajax is able to notice the slightest changes in your mood. you would say he knows you like the back of his hand, but it’s something more than that. almost like the two of you are fused at the souls. bonded for eternity.
so in the dew morning hours when you’re just a little bit quieter, a little more somber as he makes you both breakfast on one of his rare days off, he’s able to notice right away.
he notices your eyes don’t quite catch his own as he jokes about some silly thing one of his siblings did weeks ago, how your smile falters instead of shining bright the way that he loves to see, how you pick at your fingers and gnaw on your lip in thought.
“ptichka?” he hovers over you, taking your face in his hands and pulling you from your thoughts. his cerulean eyes scan you thoroughly. “did you not sleep well?”
“it’s nothing, it was just a silly little dream.” you wave off, smiling weakly. not a lie, technically.
ajax clicks his tongue. stubbornly, he leans into you, the smell of pine and mint following him. “it can’t be silly if it has you upset like this and you’re losing sleep.”
there is no way of lying to ajax. you know this well. he’s a big brother to three siblings, and he’s too good of a detective to be deceived. but that’s to be expected of a harbinger.
after a long, apprehensive pause, you sigh.
“…i had a dream that you cheated on me.” you confess, lowering your gaze to the floor. “and that you left me for someone better.”
it’s stupid. absolutely and utterly ridiculous. ajax has shown you enough love to spill over into your next life. and the next one after that. you could die and come back a thousand times, and there’d still be traces of him left on you. so to tell him this brings you great shame.
the question is, what caused the dream? guilt? shame? maybe you feel he does so much for you, that you’re lacking as a partner. that you could do better.
you wait silently for him to yell, for some sort of outburst to come. but you’re only met with surprise when you feel his hand on your chin.
“can you please look at me?” his voice is soft, and eyes softer as he finally is able to make eye contact with you. he’s so gentle. warm. he only looks at you with love and patience. “thank you, lisichka.”
“i may not have done anything wrong, and i would never cheat—“ he continues with a stern expression, “but i still need you to understand where my feelings lie with you.”
you start to shake your head, “i already know, ‘jax, you have never made me feel like i need to doubt you. i know how much you love me. i promise. i have no idea why i had the dream…but it just made me sad when i woke up.”
you don’t mean to lie about your hidden insecurities, but it’s not a conversation you want to have at the moment. you’d rather just enjoy the time you have currently with your boyfriend peacefully.
luckily, ajax overlooks your fib. he hums, kissing your temple, “how about after we eat, i run us a bath? and we do one of those face masks that you like? something to decompress.”
and for the first time today you smile and agree.
unfortunately it appears ajax is taking your earlier sentiments much more seriously than you thought.
as all dreams and nightmares are short term memory, you long forgot about what it was that made you upset, back to your usual self after the bath.
ajax swaddled you up in a clean towel, and just like he said, did face masks with you. it always makes you giggle seeing your boyfriend using one of your spa headbands to push his hair back. soon both your faces were shiny and clean. refreshed and replenished, you felt brand new.
but little did you know you were now in the jaws of a shark.
you didn’t make it to the bedroom. well, you did, but you didn’t pick up on the ginger’s ulterior motive the minute he kissed your cheek as you sat on the bathroom counter. he carried you to the bedroom, and that’s where it all fell apart.
“‘j-jax—“ you hiccup, gripping tightly onto his bicep. your figure is trembling against his, skin damp with sweat and glued impossibly closer to his.
so much for the bath.
“s-slow down…”
your boyfriend has been at it for awhile now, pummeling your poor insides with his fat cock over and over. the room reeks with the smell of sex, wet sounds imprinted into your mind. you can never forget just how great he makes you feel.
“no,” he huffs, fingers digging into your hips, “you’re not leaving this bed until i’m sure of it.”
confusion resides in you. what exactly is ‘it’?
he’s already worshipped you plenty with just his fingers and tongue. but you don’t dare challenge the primal look in his eyes. he’s absolutely greedy, not even letting you move to take care of him in return in anyway.
you yelp once feeling your lover’s teeth nip into your skin. his tongue laves over the offended area before he kisses the skin.
“how could i find someone better, when there’s not a single person more beautiful or amazing than you?” he pants, pulling away to look at you. his thumb traces your cheek tenderly and his cobalt eyes are trained on your fucked out expression.
“especially when your pussy feels this good? that’s just a bonus.” he rambles, groaning. his hips knock into yours more harshly and you wail.
“you’d have to kill me to separate us.” he admits darkly, but something tells you that even death wouldn’t stop him.
“‘dun want that, want you forever.” you say, clinging impossibly tighter to him.
ajax coos, kissing your nose, “and you have me. because you’re enough. you always will be. you’re perfect.”
his answer satisfies you and you’re kissing him again, nearly having tears permeate at the ducts of your eyes.
he laughs, grinning against you mouth, “milaya, you’re about to cum, aren’t you?”
“i-i” your words still fail to completely return to you but you nod rapidly.
understanding, he taps your bottom lip.
“open,” he commands.
falling in line, ajax pushes his fingers in your mouth. you feel your face heat up from how you taste yourself on him.
“good girl,” he praises, “always so sweet for me, hmm?”
you’re drooling on him, nodding and humming around his fingers with a hazy look in your eyes.
there’s a certain light in his own eyes that only appears when he’s with you, and with the way he is looking at you with complete adoration, you feel absolutely special.
“oh, look how much you’re quivering, you’re almost there. come on.” your boyfriend studies your movements, fucking you with slower, deeper thrusts.
the breath from your lungs nearly escapes you, and you feel a burning feeling in your chest. you’re creaming so much on him that it’s impossible not to hear the lewd noises coming from between your legs.
every sound seems to drive the ginger crazier. “one more, just one more for me, angel and i’ll let you be.” he coaxes, fingers moving again.
“i’m…i’m tired.” you sniff.
“i know, but you look so pretty when you cum. just one more? pretty please? can’t get over how you look. so beautiful…”
his constant praise is enough to make you cum once more, so hard that it blinds you. your mouth falls open in silent awe.
ajax groans, watching you come undone and hissing at the way you’re clamping up on his cock. it should be a crime how good you feel, because he could ever get enough of it.
there’s only a moment before he remembers he still needs to cum, and then he’s pawing and begging.
“fuck, let me cum in you…please…” his face is buried in your neck and a small whimper escapes him once he grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together.
he’s shivering and hot, and his cock is extremely sensitive. every drag of himself against your walls drives him insane. he’s dizzy, nearly delirious with how much he’s holding back.
“wanna fill you up so badly, please lisichka.” he continues, pressing searing kisses to your shoulder. “want you leaking with all of my cum…want all of it in you.”
you don’t think he’s looking at you while he babbles and pleads to breed you, and you shiver at how predatory he looks at your lower abdomen. you lock your legs tighter around him, ignoring the overstimulation creeping up in you.
“yes, ajax. please. w-want all your cum. want you to fill me up!” you whine, a sound that makes his heart and cock swell all at the same time.
your next words startle him even further.
“i love you.”
and he snaps.
“hah—ah, fuck!” ajax curses, hips stuttering in their pace. he groans loudly, feeling himself spill into you. there’s spots in his vision from how hard he’s cumming and he wonders if this is what celestia is.
you gasp, jerking when warmth spreads throughout all of you. you can feel the throbbing of your boyfriends cock and his heavy load.
coming down from both of your highs, the two of you laugh.
“you surprise me every time.” you tease quietly, eyeing a bite mark on your thigh.
the ginger looks bashful, hiding his face in your shoulder. “sorry…didn’t mean to be so rough…”
“if i wanted you to stop at anytime, i would’ve told you.” you reassure, petting his head.
he plants a kiss on your skin. “good. and for the record, i love you too.” he murmurs. “feel better?”
“i felt better after the delicious breakfast you made, but you took it a couple of steps further like you always do.” you giggle, leaning into his chest.
ajax grins, kissing the crown of your head, “well, i could tell something else was on your mind, but you weren’t telling me.”
“you know me way too well. it’s terrifying.”
he puffs his chest out, “what can i say? i can and will only provide the absolute best for you.”
“i don’t like leaving you alone for as long as i do…i will try to get them to let me take work closer to home.” he adds, playing with your fingers.
and the beam on your face is all worth it. “really?”
“really. i’m not around a lot for you to do things for me, and i get why you may feel that you need to be better. but i adore you just how you are. i’m sorry for not being more present.”
“it’s okay, i understand.” you hum, kissing his chin.
ajax hums with appreciation before leaning down and chasing your lips, hungrily wanting to taste you all over again.
his demanding presence has you melting into him as you mesh together, tongues locking to consume the taste of yourselves.
suddenly he’s dragging you by the hips to the edge of the bed.
“w-what are you—“
“m’not done with you. far from it.” you barely can form another question before ajax is sliding back into you. a crude squelch follows.
the harbinger kisses your bare ring finger. “say, i think we should elope. what do you think about starting a family?”
key: ptichka = ‘little bird’, lisichka = ‘little fox’, milaya = ‘my dear’
#tartaglia x reader#tartaglia x you#childe x reader#childe x you#genshin childe#genshin tartaglia#tartaglia smut#childe smut#genshin impact#genshin smut#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin oneshot#genshin impact oneshot
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Two Is Better Than One - Chris and Matt Sturniolo
Chris x Matt and Fem Reader
The second part to Versus
polyamorous: characterized by or involved in the practice of engaging in multiple romantic (and typically sexual) relationships, with the consent of all the people involved.
or also defined as: the relationship you, matt and chris have built. it started out as an innocent game of truth or dare one night which turned into much more than you could have ever imagined. trust, respect, and honesty. these are the three rules set in place that are strictly to be followed.
but what happens when they just don't want to share you after all?
content warnings: poly relationship, not much plot to this one, heavy smut, raw sex, matt v chris, mean!matt, softdom!chris, fingering, oral receiving/giving, threesome (no incest thats just gross), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, manipulation, jealousy, angst, fluff at the end
word count: 4,662
“Fuck, Matt…” You whine, the feeling of pleasure almost overwhelming, his long fingers sliding in and out of your wet, throbbing core.
“Is this okay? Does that feel good?” he asks, his head leaning down and eyes searching your face for any sign of resistance, his expression resembling a mixture of concern and excitement. He asks you as if you weren’t obviously enjoying it, moaning his name, your fingers grasping tightly onto his bicep as he fingers you. You’re basically panting like an animal, your head thrown back against his shoulder.
He’s asked you about a dozen times since you dared him to kiss you if you’re okay and if you’re comfortable. It’s endearing though, and something you’ve always appreciated about him.
“God, yes. Please don’t stop.” You reply breathlessly. He had pulled you into his lap earlier, your back against his chest, teasing you for a little before plunging his fingers into you, exploring you for the very first time.
He hums in satisfaction after you voice your approval and kisses the side of your neck, as you lean your head back more to allow him full access.
Chris watches with wide eyes and a slack jaw, leaning on his arm as he lays sideways on the carpet across from you. From his position he has the perfect view with you exposed to him, your legs spread open for Matt. He’s painfully hard in his pants, his palm rubbing over himself to relieve some of the tension.
This only makes you wetter as you bring your head up to stare back at Chris and he makes eye contact with you. The way he watches you makes your heart flip in your chest. He licks his lips, looking back down at your dripping hole, squeezing around Matt’s fingers as they curl inside you and he places a thumb on your clit, starting to rub circles.
You close your eyes and throw your head back against Matt again, completely lost in the feeling, the coil in your stomach starting to unravel. Colors dance across your eyelids as you squeeze them shut, your thighs tensing and loud moans from you fill the room.
Matt whispers words of encouragement in your ear and your orgasm rolls through you in delicious waves as you feel yourself drench his fingers with arousal.
Matt uses every ounce of strength he has not to cum from the sight of you losing yourself on his lap, his eyes locked on you. The sounds you make are like music to his ears and he knows he’s hooked now.
You never would’ve thought Matt would be the one to touch you like this, giving you the first orgasm that you’ve had from someone besides yourself in a good while, let alone Chris also watching it happen. But it’s incredibly sensual, and forbidden, and dirty, and you absolutely love it.
You recover from the short burst of ecstasy and sit up a little, your breath shaky and remove the death grip you had from Matt’s arm. Chris is still in shock, staring at you like he’s just witnessed the best porn scene of his life.
“What’s wrong Chris? Scared you can’t do better?” Matt says, taunting him.
He scoffs, and snaps out of his trance, grabbing you by the ankles to pull you towards him. You gasp from the sudden shift, and the mischievous smirk on Chris’s face has you blushing.
“Come ‘ere Princess. I’ll show you how it’s really done.”
That was 6 months ago, and this is now. Now, you’re sitting on Matt’s bed as he stands in front of you, the rage vibrating from him so strongly it’s starting to scare you. The difference between Matt now and Matt then is baffling. But the few times you’ve seen him like this, you couldn’t hide the fact how much it turned you on. He was the sweetest person you knew, yet he could absolutely ruin you if you pushed him to that point.
“Beg.” He says finally. Your doe eyes stare up at him, but he keeps a stoic expression.
“I- what?” You start, unsure what exactly he wants you to beg for.
“You heard me, angel. I want you to beg for it.” He answers.
Chris smirks from his place on the gaming chair, enjoying the approach Matt’s taken. His front teeth dig into his bottom lip, the obvious boner from earlier still pressed hard against his thigh in his sweatpants.
But the second your eyes flick over to Chris, Matt sighs in anger and shakes his head.
“Chris, get the fuck out.”
He sucks his teeth, throwing his hands in the air like a defeated child. “Bro what-“
“She’s too distracted right now. It’s still my fucking night. I said she’ll get what she wants. But on my terms.”
Chris glares at the back of Matt’s head for a little and then sighs, looking at you briefly before getting up from the chair and leaving the room, closing the door.
“Matt, I’m sorry. Can we please talk- “You start but he’s quick to shut you down.
“Shut your mouth and get on your knees. Now.”
Your face heats in embarrassment but your thighs clench together in excitement. Matt notices, watching your every move. He would never make you feel uncomfortable, and he knows you well enough to watch your body language and cues.
And he knows that your face is red with embarrassment because of his change in demeanor and his harsh tone but he also knows your thighs are clenching together because there’s a throb starting in your core. And he loves the effect he has on you.
You slip to your knees on his floor, as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his boxer briefs down a little, his cock springing out as he holds it in his hand in front of your face. He’s already hard and ready for you, as you shuffle even closer to him, placing your hands on his thighs.
“Go on. Show me how sorry you are.” He says, his voice deep and still thick with sleep.
That’s all you need to hear before taking him into your mouth, letting him slide as far down your throat as you can manage. He groans, holding the back of your head as he lets you adjust, your throat constricting slightly as you gag around him.
And you are sorry. You’re sorry that you let Chris have his way with you in the kitchen while you left him in his bed alone. You’re sorry that you made him angry, especially after his earlier confession. You’re sorry that this whole relationship between you three has gotten so messy.
So, you let him wrap his hands in your hair as he thrusts slightly, breathing through your nose and letting him control the pace, wanting to pull more sounds of approval from him. You let him fuck your mouth, holding your head and bucking his hips like that’s all you are to him right now, a hole for him to use.
He does this for a few good minutes, thoroughly enjoying the tight warmth of your throat around him. You’re sure that there’s a redness forming on your knees from being on the floor and tears start to leak from your eyes, but you don’t mind. You would gladly let him use you in whatever way he wanted.
“Fuck, angel... just like that. Take it.” He moans, and you reciprocate, your fingertips digging into his thighs. You’re basically slobbering on him now, saliva starting to pool out of your mouth and onto your chin. The cold metal of his rings scrape your scalp as he fists your hair tightly. You’re almost out of breath and you look up at him with lust filled eyes, your lashes fluttering. He nearly loses it then, his orgasm threatening to tip him over the edge.
But then he pulls out quickly before he can and you gasp, catching your breath.
He pulls you up by your arms, and practically throws you onto his bed, your back hitting his sheets. You barely have time to say anything before he’s stripping you of your clothes and pulling his pajama pants off. He crawls onto the mattress after you, holding your legs in place so you stay spread open for him, his throbbing dick still hanging out of his boxers.
He presses into you, sitting up on his knees on the bed as he runs his tip through your folds, causing a jolt of pleasure in your stomach and your mouth hangs open, watching him.
His eyes are transfixed on the way you’re leaking in need, slickness coating him as he slides through you teasingly over and over, and then looks into your eyes, a hungry, almost irritated look on his face from how insane you make him.
“I wanna hear you beg for it Y/N.” He demands.
You want him so bad, you would say anything he wanted you to.
“Please, Matt. I need you.”
He tsks, shaking his head slightly as he continues to tease you. “Not good enough.”
“Matt… Please fuck me. Please, I need to feel you baby, I’ll be so good I promise.”
He bites his lip, feeling his dick throb at the sound of the needy way you beg for him.
“Yeah? Not gonna make me mad anymore sweetheart?” He coos, and you shake your head in earnest as he locks eyes with you. He presses his tip against your entrance with a smirk on his face and you whine with frustration.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door and you can only assume it’s Chris. Matt chooses not to hear it, pushing himself all the way inside you without warning and you cry out, the feeling of him burying inside you as deep as he can, his hips flush with yours.
He doesn’t move at all, gripping the back of your thighs and pushing them up and tight against your upper body so he has your legs open even wider for him. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you, the dominance penetrating.
“Matt.” You hear Chris say from behind the door.
“Make one fucking noise and I’ll stop.” Matt tells you lowly and pulls out halfway only to slam back into you, hard.
Your eyes widen and you can’t help the loud whimper that escapes you. He clamps one of his hands over your mouth, and you clutch his wrist as he moves again, your body jolting at the rough way he thrusts into you. “What did I just say? Hm?” He warns through gritted teeth, his breath shaky despite his harsh tone.
“Do you want me to stop?” He asks condescendingly and you shake your head no fervently, his hand still over your mouth. You don’t dare to make a sound no matter how bad you want to. “That’s what I thought.” He adds and quickens his pace, watching as he pounds into you, the feeling sparking a slow burn in both of you.
You’re absolutely soaked, and he can’t take his eyes off how well you take him. You’re already clenching around his cock, and he moves his hips up, scooting even closer to you, now hitting you at a different angle, his tip brushing your cervix. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you’re biting into his hand, gripping his arm for dear life.
Knock, knock.
Chris sighs from the other side of the door. He can’t hear you, but he can hear Matt’s headboard bang against the wall, and he burns with envy. He knows how pathetic this is. Standing outside Matt’s door while he fucks a girl. His girl. As far he was concerned, you were his. You had his heart, and no amount of pettiness or jealousy would change that.
They had both agreed they would share you tonight, per their discussion earlier in the kitchen. It’s what you wanted. And now Matt was being greedy.
“Come on, sweetheart, I know how fucking good it feels. Cum all over my dick, I know how bad you want to.” Matt tells you and you’re melting in seconds, trembling beneath him as you climax, the feeling incredible. You’re making small, muffled cries against him, riding out your high.
But the feeling of release is soon replaced with an intensity that has your legs shaking as he still hasn’t stopped thrusting into you, his resolve still intact.
He moves his hand from your mouth to your neck, gripping slightly, enough that you feel hazy. The overstimulation has you breathless, your whimpers lost as he fucks the air out of your lungs. The pleasure returns though as he finds your g spot once more, and he moves his hand from your neck to your clit, bringing even more stimulation to your nerve endings and your whole body feels as if it’s on fire.
Before you can cum though, Matt is suddenly pulling out of you, flipping you around so fast your head spins and enters you again from behind. He leans down over you, one arm snaking around your chest and the other around your waist as he holds you close to him.
“You belong to me, did you forget that?” He pants, starting slow, deep strokes into you and you moan out from the feeling. The change in position has you tingling, floating in pleasure under him. And his words only push you to that glorious edge again, as he spews filthy words into your ear, his arm tightening around you.
“If I ever catch you like that again, I’ll make sure you regret it.” He thrusts into you faster now, his pace unforgiving.
Silk sheets the color of melted chocolate and patchwork arm tattoos. That’s all you can focus on as Matt slams into you, and you take every minute of it. It’s not long before you’re reaching that peak again, trembling under Matt and breathless. He releases into you, his lips against your neck, hot breath puffing on your skin.
But that wasn’t the last one.
He made you cum again, for the third time, pulling you to the edge of the bed while he stood up and fucked you till your vision went blurry and your legs went numb. This time, pulling out and painting white stripes on your stomach and chest.
Once he catches his breath, he goes to grab a towel to clean you and you lay on the bed, your mind still foggy and your heart pounding in your chest. You can’t really move, your body spent from the intensity.
You don’t even notice when Matt comes back to you, running the towel over your body and between your legs, cleaning up his cum that’s leaked out of you. He places a hand to your forehead, smoothing your messy hair from your face and places a light kiss on your cheek. “You’re okay angel, I got you. ‘m right here…”
Chris comes through the door now, hearing the sudden silence and sees the image of you sprawled out on Matt’s bed, the fucked out look on your face. You’re sweaty and your eyelids are drooped with exhaustion. He then sees Matt, caressing your face and whispering sweetly to you.
“Jesus, Matt what did you do to her?” He says, moving closer.
Matt ignores him, grabbing a water bottle from his nightstand and handing it to you, helping you sit up slightly. “Drink this, angel.”
“Y/N, are you okay?” Chris asks and looks at you. You look absolutely ruined.
You nod weakly, unable to form words yet and gulp the water down.
“She’s fine Chris.”
“I asked her, not you.”
Matt gets up from beside you, stepping to Chris. “Why are you here again?”
Chris scoffs. “Because she wants me to be.”
“What if I changed my mind?”
“Well, its not just about you, is it?”
“No, what if I changed my mind about everything.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“The fuck does that mean Matt?”
“She belongs to me, I need her… I love her.”
“She’s not a fucking object-“
“You know what I fucking mean Chris-“
“No. I actually don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about because last I checked, she doesn’t want just you. We had an agreement- “
“Fuck the agreement- “
“Please, stop.” You whine from the bed, unable to take any more of their bickering. Your voice is hoarse and tired, your head lolling against the mattress.
Chris immediately comes over to you, lifting you up gently so he can hold you against him, your back against his chest as you lay between his legs.
“You feel okay baby? Do you want to go to sleep? You need some rest.” he asks softly, stroking your shoulders and running his hands down your arms.
“I’m okay.” You respond. You place a hand on his knee and lean your head back against him. You were tired but you had some time to calm down and felt a little clearer headed now.
And then you see Matt near your feet, crawling up to you slowly, his eyes all apologetic and doey. He gently places his hands on your legs, touching you like you might break. “Will you let me make you feel better angel?” He asks, his voice like honey and you melt in the sound.
“Yes.” You breathe and the way he’s looking at you has butterflies forming in your stomach and another feeling of want and lust blooming in your core, softer this time. A lot of emotions have been surfacing tonight, making the air thick and energy intense, almost overwhelming.
But it seems most of the cards have been laid on the table, and now all that’s left is the three of you, wrapped up in the simple language of wanting and the desire to be wanted back. The constant competing, the angst, the struggle for power… none of that matters right now except for their goal of wanting to please you and take care of you.
Matt’s mission is to caress your body, run his hands over every inch of your skin, kneading gently into the muscles of your thighs, legs and hips, massaging you. He molds his palms and fingertips into you like he’s sculpting an art piece and he’s careful to touch you, like you might break like glass.
You sigh, the soothing motions of his hands calming you, making you incredibly relaxed. And wet. With each brush of his hands on your inner thighs, his fingertips graze your creases, inching closer and closer to your aching cunt.
Then he starts to press kisses to your skin, tingles running through you from his soft lips. It’s maddening but also has your head in the clouds again, and you want nothing more than to feel his tongue against you.
Chris still holds you, his face buried into your neck, also using his mouth to leave more small marks next to the ones he placed before.
He brushes all your hair to the back of your neck, his hands moving to your breasts and you gasp lightly as he kneads them, flicking his thumbs across your sensitive nipples.
Matt continues to touch every part of your lower body except that place you need the most. You whine impatiently, now ready for him to go further. He looks up at you, his face hovering over your pelvis. “Want my mouth baby?” He says and you moan, nodding your head. “Please, Matt.” He smirks and he leans his head down, kissing the spot right above your clit. “So good for me.” He mumbles.
You reach down to tuck your fingers into his soft hair when Chris grabs your arms, gently pulling them back and holding them behind you. He places his lips by your ear, his breath puffing against your neck. “Gotta stay still baby.”
Matt then spreads your fold with his fingers and slides his tongue down your wetness, flicking it up and then back down to your hole. You moan loudly, as Chris continues to fondle your breasts, and smooths his hands down your stomach. He’s touching you as lovingly as he can in all the spots he can reach. All while Matt buries his face between your legs.
You lean your head back against Chris, cries of pleasure escaping your mouth.
“Does it feel good baby?” Chris whispers in your ear and you nod, unable to speak as Matt devours you, tasting you like he can’t get enough.
“Not better than my tongue though.” He adds and sticks two fingers in your mouth, resting them against your tongue and you suck lightly, your moans vibrating around them.
“Such a dirty fucking girl…” He groans and slips them out of your mouth with a pop, leaning down further to kiss you, his tongue circling yours.
Matt coaxes you closer and closer to that peak again, his mouth sucking and lapping at you like it’s his last meal. This time, the build up is sweeter, and it has you seeing stars as he encourages you to cum, his face coated with your juices, your whimpers and moans of his name sounding through the room.
“So beautiful angel, you did so well for me.” He praises.
✰✿
Exhaustion has officially taken over the three of you, the night finally ending in the early hours of the morning. You all lay in Matt’s bed, with you in the middle. Sleep took over your body once Chris helped you get a clean pair of pajamas on and laid you down. You looked so peaceful he just couldn’t leave you.
Matt let him stay. Begrudgingly. He didn’t have the energy to argue anymore tonight. Chris holds you from behind and you rest your hand as Matt’s chest, drawing soothing circles on his skin.
You awake after a few hours, the sunlight filtering through the shades of the bedroom window. It isn’t noon yet and your eyes are still heavy with sleep as you stretch a little and feel Chris’s arms tighten around you. You see Matt with his back to you, towards the edge of the bed. He’s knocked out, his shoulders moving with slow, deep breaths.
Chris holds you close to him, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he splays his hand over your stomach. “Already awake princess?”
You smile lazily and yawn, putting your hand over his. Your legs tangle underneath the blanket you share, and he pulls it up higher, covering most of your body. “Just lay here with me for a while, yeah?” He mumbles and peppers soft kisses from the spot below your ear down the nape of your neck, leaving goosebumps in his trail.
You sigh happily and his hands escape underneath your t-shirt, smoothing over your hips and the curve of your side. He continues kissing every inch of skin his lips can touch. The dip of your neck, your jaw, the back of your shoulder.
“You look so beautiful when you sleep… I love you more than you know, sweet girl. You mean everything to me.” He whispers and your heart squeezes in your chest. His words reciprocate what you feel for him, and it makes his touch all the more pleasing.
Chris runs his hands down your thighs now, fingertips brushing the crease of your pelvis and it only takes a few seconds for you to feel wetness pool between your legs for him as he places an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, running his tongue along your skin.
You whimper ever so quietly, your breathing more shallow from his soft, sensual actions. “Shhh… don’t make a sound baby. We don’t want Matt to wake up now do we?”
You turn your head slightly to make eye contact with him and he smirks, his fingers sneaking into the side of your shorts and caressing your wet folds. You stay silent though, your teeth digging into your bottom lip and brows furrowing as he pushes one finger inside you slowly, still some soreness from the night before.
“Be good for me, mama. I’m gonna get you ready for me, okay? Does it hurt?” He asks and you nod, hissing as he pushes in further, some resistance against him as he strokes your spongy walls.
He hums in empathy, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna take care of you.” You kiss him back as he continues small thrusts into you with his middle finger, growing wetter by the second. The burn disappears as he’s gentle with you, and you crave more.
He takes notice of the way your body relaxes now, the tenseness gone and your hips wiggle with need, so he adds another finger and you almost let a moan escape. He strokes your walls with care, pushing them all the way in to the base of his knuckles. Sounds of wetness come from under the blanket and he molds his lips against yours sweetly.
Your hips are moving back towards him, helping you slide down his fingers and he chuckles lightly. “Look at you… practically getting yourself off on my hand. Who knew my sweet girl was so needy, hm?” Chris taunts and you whimper quietly. “So needy for you, Chris… please.” You breathe and he removes his fingers from your hole, shoving them into your mouth.
Matt shuffles in his sleep in front of you and your heart races, a jolt of fear running through you. He doesn’t wake though, and Chris pulls his cock out of his boxers, pressing his tip into your hole, your arousal already coating him.
You make a muffled sound against his fingers as he groans into your ear. “You gonna be quiet like I said?” You nod and he pushes himself all the way into you, a grunt of pleasure emitting from him as he buries his face into your neck. He removes his fingers from your mouth and wraps his arm around your chest, cradling you against him as he rocks into you from behind, slow and deep.
“Such a good girl for me… always.” He praises and your mouth hangs open at the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, his shaky breath on your neck.
It feels so fucking good, you never want him to stop, wanting to have the feeling of him inside you always so you’re never empty.
It’s not long at all before you’re clenching around him, your orgasm spilling out and he’s whimpering into your skin, teeth biting softly into your flesh from the way you squeeze him.
“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so full baby, I want- shit… want you to have all of it.” He moans and releases into you, warm spurts of his cum painting your insides.
He stays inside you for a while, and holds you, your breaths slowing down eventually.
“I love you, Chris. Both of you. Please don’t make me choose.” You whisper, fatigue making your eyes slip close again as you drift to sleep in his arms.
He doesn’t say anything, his eyes looking over to Matt who seems to have been asleep the whole time. He sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and gently pulls away from you once you’re sound asleep, getting up from the bed to leave with you Matt and return to his room. He wants you to get rest. The hard discussion can be left for another day.
Matt turns over once Chris leaves, wrapping his arms around you. He makes a mental note to take extra good care of you for the next few days after the events of this weekend. He’ll run you a warm bath, massage your achy and sore limbs, and put on your favorite movies later.
And he definitely won’t forget to get Chris back for his sneaky acts that morning, something he was very, very good at.
taglist <3
[if you would like to be added/taken off, please reply to this post or comment on my masterlist. if u weren’t tagged, it wouldn’t let me add u :/]
@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @st7rnioioss @mattscoquette @h3arts4harry @jnkvivi @chrizznmetswife @sturnsluverr @mattsbiggestfan0283 @bambi-slxt @angelic-sturniolos111 @sofie-1
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo smut#versus fic
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Dom König scenario
Masterlist
Ok, we had him soft and obedient, how about his other side? Because you don't call someone the King, if they are just tender little angels. Smut under cut.
You were sure, it was you, who actually initiated this all: after months of silent yearning, back and forth dynamics, pinning and practically burning alive with desire you ended up in his hands, your lips pressed against his in desperate attempt to put an end to this slow torture in any possible way: be it with or without him.
He doesn't answer on your kiss, doesn't flinch or frown. Just sits there with a half smile and looks down on you, not breaking the eye contact for a single moment.
Little did you know, you were never in charge. Every interaction, every smallest chat, every stolen smile, lingering gaze - it was all orchestrated.
König loved the good old hunt, thrived on the outrageous hopelessness with which his prey, without realizing it, rushed towards him. Tinkered little traps, mislead, confused, threaded illusions of one-sided hunger to drive you to absolute desperation for him.
He may have always been the quiet one, but one needs not many words, when he can get anything with the slightest brush of fingers, or an 'occasional' eye contact (and of course he squinted and tilted his head slightly to one side, not because he knew what it does to you).
König gradually let you closer and closer. Tricked you into believing that you're the one who's so fearless to fall for him: a living weapon of mass destruction. An absolute menace, turning friendly and smiling around you.
Little did you know, poor thing, little did you know... Until the trap was shut.
His hands barely touch your waist as if he was protecting you from falling off his lap, he doesn't try to pull you closer. You understand, that it is the end of you: he didn't react to your touch, kept silent, his heart was still and calm.
Blush washes over your face. "I'm sorry, König. Oh fuck, this is embarrassing. I didn't mean to... No, I actually meant, but not that. Sorry, I better shut up and leave you be. I promise, this won't happen ever again."
Your babbling amuses him. No, he doesn't want to harm your feelings or bully you, he knows exactly, what is going to happen very soon, but he can't help but indulge in those last moments of your alleged freedom.
It's when you try to pull away, you feel his hands clasp around your waist. "Who said, I don't want this to happen again?" His voice is quiet, lower than usual. Like honey from the Tyrolean forests, it covers your mind with a thick golden veil of lust.
You can't think straight, can't believe your own ears, and yet you dare not resist when he pulls you closer, letting you touch his lips again. Another lingering kiss.
But this time his smile widens. "Nochmal*," he purrs and lets out a low chuckle, when he sees your puzzled expression.
Don't worry, he will make sure you have enough opportunities to learn every single phrase, he might want you to understand and use on your own. He won't translate anything to you though - showing is always better than telling!
So he lets you kiss him once more. "Nochmal". And again. "Nochmal". And again... Till his tongue lazily rolls past your lips.
He tastes you like the most precious drink. Sip after sip, until you lay beneath him, trembling of need.
"My little sunshine, bearing so much love for me... Was it hard to dream of my touch every other night? Did it hurt, when you clenched around your thin, fragile fingers, fantasizing, how good can I make you feel in comparison?" You can't tell if he is genuinely concerned or just loves to fluster you that much.
And don't you even think to look away for a moment, to take a break and collect your thoughts - he'll grab your face while kissing you only to make his point: eyes on him until he commands otherwise.
Yes, commands come too pretty quickly in your life. But how can he possibly resist, when you're so eager to do anything, he lets you doing?
"You may moan into my mouth, meine Süße*, I don't mind some music*" While his fingers are knuckle deep in you. And moan do you, his sweet obedient angel.
He doesn't rush anything and more than happy to please you with his fingers and tongue first couple of times. This may come off as pretty humble, but he in fact just waits, till you are desperate enough to beg him to fuck you properly.
Poor thing too desperate, flustered and overwhelmed... Of course, he would fuck you absolutely incoherent if you ask nicely. He has such a soft spot for your wet eyes, he'd make you go limp, your eyes rolling back, little whimpers leaving your lips with every thrust, as he holds your hips tightly picking up the pace. Fucking your fears and anxieties away. Making you feel high.
Lots of reassurance, praise and confessions. Constantly. Even in the most extreme moments.
"Who are you, little sunshine?"
"Your fucktoy."
"...and?"
"Your treasure..."
"Gu-u-u-utes Mädchen*... and?"
"Love of your life?"
"Liebe meines Lebens*."
*Nochmal - once again
*meine Süße - my sweet one
*Gu-u-u-utes Mädchen - go-o-o-od girl
*Liebe meines Lebens - love of my life
#konig mw2#cod modern warfare#cod#cod mw2#könig#cod x reader#konig#könig cod#könig mw2#konig call of duty#cod smut#konig smut#konig modern warfare#konig x you#konig imagine#konig headcanons#konig scenario#konig x reader#konig x y/n#könig x reader#könig headcanons#könig smut#könig call of duty#könig x you#call of duty#mw2
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Okay so this idea has been rocking around my empty skull for some time now just we know that Eddie can be a pretty mean DM and a shithead and I've been thinking abt romances in D&D and how it would work in Hellfire
And I had this thought that Eddie would like be "no romances!!" to the Corroded Coffin group (before the kids joined) and they're like why? and Eddie just to tease them says that he doesn't want to pretend to fall for their smelly ugly faces
Which just motivates them to try and seduce like every character that Eddie introduces for a fucking month and it leads to the creation of the rule: Every romance/seduction directed roll must be rolled above 15 to succeed AND if Eddie decides that the attempt is particularly bad the roll is with disadvantage
The Corroed Coffin boys are obviously teasingly like ohhh so we get an advantage if it's good?
"Doubt that would happen boys, but sure, if you make me, Eddie fucking Munson, to blush like a fair maiden then you'll get the advantage on the roll"
They try, they really do, but all the CC boys succeed in doing is killing off all of their party in three sessions and Gareth who is a little shit is actually rolling his third character (because the consequences of a failure are fucking brutal) by the time Jeff and [unnamed freak] give up
After that they know better (except Gareth who still sometimes does that just to annoy Eddie and be a little shit) to try and then the kids join Hellfire and Eddie has even less of an desire to flirt with fucking Wheeler, Henderson and Sinclair (they're baby children!!)
But the kids are a little shits too and they see Gareth being a little shit so they copy
It ends badly for them, they gripe about Eddie being unfair because like "all three of us have girlfriends Eddie and you don't so we clearly know more about romance then you do" Dustin not only gets a flick on the head for that but his character might have ended up being put into situations™ throughout the session that are "totally unfair!"
But fair to say all of Hellfire knows the rules and all of hellfire knows that no matter how well they try and how smooth they are (they really aren't ever smooth) Eddie will not blush or even consider they attempts as "good", the best they got was "tolerable" (Lucas got it and he's still very proud of it, as he deserves okay?), Eddie is impossible to fluster and so it's just is this fun thing they sometimes do when they feel particularly like little shits
And that's it about it
Until Vecna and all the upside down shit and the surprising friendship of Eddie and Steve happens
And suddenly Steve Harrington is not only sitting but playing D&D
Everything is going actually pretty good and Dustin practically vibrates out of his chair at how proud he is of Steve for how well he is doing so far and then
And then Steve tries to flirt with a pretty bard
Dustin deflates, he is ready for the absolute disaster that is going to fall upon Steve, he makes eye contact with Lucas - both of them ready with "it was actually a pretty good line tho!" at the tip of their tongues to defend Steve's decisions, he doesn't know Eddie's special rules after all and it would be funny to see Steve fail, sure, but it's Steve's first game and the kids wanted it to be good for Steve so convincing him to play again would be easier
But now Eddie is going to absolutely rip into him and Steve will never want to play again and-
"Roll with advantage" Dustin gasps, audibly, loudly, the room is silent, except for Steve who's very unaware of the chaos he just created and just rolls the dices, his usual confidence in place
And if someone looked closely - and all of the hellfire is fucking looking - Eddie Munson has indeed a light blush on his face
#i feel like it would have been so funny#steve and eddie just spend the rest of the session flirting through the bard and steve's character#steve also doesn't know why Lucas looks so in awe of him after the session Mike is scowling and Dustin is looking at him#as if he's a weird matemathical equasion#the CC boys give Eddie so much shit tho after the session#'oh so ours ugly mugs don't do it but king steve's jocky ass does?' 'it's a pretty great ass!'#steve doesn't really learn abt the rules until like a month later#also this is my gareth is a little shit agenda and i will be always pushing it#steddie#fic idea#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#dom's au idea of the day#corroded coffin#also hahaha yes this is my official my brain cannot keep my ideas in my head anymore so im going to unleash all of them slowly here
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Hi! I was just wondering if you ever had any plans of making a part four nsfw for the alpha Sukuna series you have? It has me in suspense dkljsaldks
You activated the chip in my brain so i wrote this for you lol. I got so carried away 💀
warnings: swearing, suggestive content, mentions of sex, a/b/o typical vernacular
Imagine Alpha!Sukuna watching another Alpha try to court you.
He is the absolute first to know, because he smells the guy on you the second you step into the room. He is certain no one else can tell, since it’s so subtle, but his nose is sharper than today’s Alphas, and he can tell immediately. He feels himself bristle at the thought. How dare another Alpha, a human one at that, lay a hand on you?
He watches you even more closely than usual after that, especially when you are dolled up. He knows what that means. He’s not an idiot. You’re going on a date with some asshole who thinks he can give you what you need. Well, that dolt couldn’t be more wrong. You don’t need some mediocre Alpha to take care of you, you need him. You just don’t know it yet.
Deep down, Sukuna knows that the Alpha in him is growing restless day after day, watching you get closer to this unknown man you keep seeing. The man you keep allowing to court you. In his head, you already belong to him. You are his omega, even if you only look at him as a curse who takes over your friend’s body from time to time. None of that matters because at the end of the day, the only Alpha who is allowed to stake a claim on you is him.
The day you come back with another scent on your neck is the day Sukuna’s control snaps.
He eyes you from Yuuji’s cheek as you greet everyone and sit down in your seat, ready for class. He can almost see the scent as it lingers on your glands, masking your own sweet one with its heavy Alpha notes. Disgusting. Some other Alpha has tainted your pure omega smell. Someone who isn’t him.
That night, he takes over Yuuji’s body as the boy sleeps, trudging over to your room and pushing the door open. He doesn’t have the courtesy to knock (of course), and he only does so when he finds the door locked. Albeit he smacks an open palm against the door instead of rapping on it with his knuckles.
When you pull open the door just a crack and peek out, you see pink hair and black lines tattooed over your friend’s face, and realize your visitor is not Yuuji.
“Sukuna?” You pull the door further open, revealing more of your figure. Sleep shorts and a tank top. Sukuna almost hums in approval, but instead he feels his nose scrunch. His sensitive nose is still picking up on traces of an alpha scent. He feels his mouth twist in disgust.
“You let him fuck you?”
He sees your eyes widen and mouth drop open in shock. “What?”
“That Alpha you’ve been seeing.” He pushes himself into the room as he speaks, making you back away. He looks around your room. The sheets are ruffled, indicating you were already in bed. The rest of it is very clean.
“I-” You stutter over your words. Sukuna would’ve thought it was endearing if it weren’t for the context at hand. His blood is already boiling, and it is taking everything in him to not find this bastard and skin him alive.
“It’s none of your business.” You settle, avoiding eye contact with him. Sukuna raises an eyebrow.
“Oh?” He steps closer to you, watching you shuffle backward until your back hits a wall. “None of my business?”
He leans forward, hands still buried in his pockets, letting his nose come in contact with your bare scent gland. He feels you stiffen, takes in a deep whiff.
“You smell like Alpha.” He comments. “Been smelling like him all day. It still hasn’t gone away. He fucked you. Right, omega? Why else would you still smell like him?”
“We didn’t!” You sound panicked. “We just…. we did other stuff. He scented me.”
Sukuna lets out a breath against your skin. Feels the way you shiver. He presses closer until his body comes in contact with yours, reveling in the way you feel.
“He scented you?” His voice is low, rumbling, and he feels you fidget. He reaches a hand up, finding home on your hip before pushing up under your shirt to run over your bare waist. You shiver, but you don’t stop him. Your breath stutters. Sukuna grins.
“How did he do it? Like this?” And then he runs his tongue over your skin, licking a fat stripe right over your scent gland. He exhales on it, letting his overwhelming scent erase all traces of any other Alpha.
He hears your lips part as you sigh, arching into him hesitantly. He can almost hear the inner battle raging inside you. He knows the omega in you wants him, but your rational brain is holding you back.
“Or did he do it like this?” And then he bites, teeth sinking into delicate skin. Enough to sting, but not enough to break skin. He teeters dangerously close to mating you, trying to hold back the urge to do it. Not yet. Not like this. When he mates you, he wants his cock buried deep in your pussy. Wants to feel you cum and cry as he sinks his fangs into your enticing glands.
You moan then, the prettiest little sound, and Sukuna wants nothing more than to bend you over and take you right there and then. But a glimmer breaks his trance, pulling away just enough to eye the silver chain around your neck. It has a small pendant on it, heart shaped. Sukuna scoffs and reaches for it.
“This is what he gave you? Courting gift?” He thumbs at it. You nod hesitantly. Your breaths are still coming fast and shallow. Sukuna increases the pressure between his fingers. The chain snaps.
He pulls it off and dangles it in front of your eyes. Then, as you stare at it. He flings it away. He leans forward again, both hands gripping you tight, licking and nipping at your neck again, quicker this time, determined to scent you properly. You sigh at the feeling. The Alpha in him purrs.
“If I smell him on you again,” he grumbles. “I’m going to rip him to shreds. That’s a promise.” His hand runs up your back under your shirt, tracing your heated skin, coaxing you to arch into him more. “Got it?”
Your breath catches. “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
Sukuna can smell your arousal. He holds himself back, enjoying this tightrope you two were walking on. He’s still lapping hungrily over your neck, leaving little nips that will darken into marks by morning.
“Yes Alpha.”
He hums in approval, still licking and breathing on your skin. Today, he had been the only one in the room who caught another Alpha’s scent on you. But he is going to make sure that when you show up tomorrow, even a beta can tell you smell like him and him only.
You’re his omega. No one else’s.
#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#alpha sukuna#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk sukuna#a/b/o#a/b/o dynamics#omegaverse#a/b/o verse#alpha x omega#omega reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n
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can you do angsty ellie headcanons? maybe how she reacts in a fight/what makes her angry? or ellie being mean to reader and having to apologize??
a/n: of course!!! this is NOT proofread... and there is some ai audios at the bottom... enjoy!
angry gf ellie
ellie does her absolute best to not get upset with you
like she really does because her mouth is a bitch when she's mad
but sometimes you take things a little too far and ellie has to fight with herself to not lash out at you
"ellie, i wasn't actually flirting with her. i was just trying to tease you." you would say in a worried voice as you watched her pace the room and avoid eye contact with you
"in what fucking world would you think i would like that?" she would spit out, flinching at her own tone
"i jus-" you try and justify it but you know you have pushed her a little too far
she would probably cut you off with the sound of your name, her voice much gentler this time
"can you just go? i need to be alone right now."
ellie is also very good at the silent treatment which drives you crazy
she would avoid you for days after the incident, not wanting to get in a full-fledged fight with you
she keeps imagining you playfully laughing and touching someone else's forearm and it drives her crazy
she doesn't even know why you would do something like that, was she not giving you enough attention?
so she would end up at your door late at night with her foot in your mouth
upon seeing your tired face, probably from the stress she caused you, she would immediately fold (ellie is such a simp it's embarrassing)
she just forgets what she's mad about when looking into your sad eyes, your face already in the palm of her hand
"baby," she would coo
"'m sorry els, it was so stupid. i don't even know why i thought that was a good idea because if you did that to me i would probably lose my mind, so please don't break up with me. i promise it will never-" she would watch as you rambled on but get absolutely thrown by the 'don't break up with me' comment
"hey hey hey, who said anything about breaking up? i was just upset, is all. don't like seeing my girl touching anyone else, yeah? we're okay, i promise." she does her best to reassure you, but when the worried look on your face doesn't go away she decides to press a kiss on your forehead
"you promise?"
"i promise. -- now are you going to invite me in? it's fucking freezing out here!"
ellie only gets angry at the sight of two things: you with another person and you injured
it's why she tries her best to be the only one who goes on patrol with you, but since shifts rotate sometimes you have to go with someone else
and that someone was jesse, who you loved but who ellie hated for you to be on patrol with
she knows what you and jesse are like around eachother (distracted) and you always come back with a few extra scratches when you're out with him
this time you came back on the back of jesse's horse with blood dripping down your forehead
upon seeing you ellie is immediately fuming and running out from the shelter of the stable to help you off the horse
she tries to be gentle in helping you down but she's shaking and your blood has started to drip onto her hand
"what the fuck happened, jesse?" she says in a huff as the men in the stable rush over to help her get you down.
"raiders, they just came out of nowhere." he sighs, hand on his head because he knows he's about to get it from ellie
"they came out of nowhere? or were you just not paying any fucking attention?!" she glared at jesse as you toppled over into her
"c'mon baby, you're okay." she'd press a kiss to your forehead ignoring jesse as she got you to the infirmary
but once you were all stitched up and alert? she was on you in an instant
"you always do this and i tell you every time that one day it's going to cost you your fucking life! and that day was almost today! -- do you know how lucky you are?"
you were just blinking up at her with your eyes wide, it shocked you that when you finally came to you were recieving a lecture from your girlfriend
"ellie, i'm too tired for this."
"oh, you're too tired? imagine how tired i am! how tiring it must be to wait for days not knowing if your girlfriend is dead. but noooo, jesse is just that fucking interesting that you have to risk your life to laugh at his lame jokes."
"what do you want me to do?" at this point you're just trying to get the pounding in your head to stop
"i want you to focus when you are on patrol! act like your life means something!" she's practically begging at this point
"okay."
"okay?"
"anything to stop you yelling at me, i really don't feel good." you say, leaning over to throw up into the closest garbage can
and just like that ellie is your ellie again, she's rushing over to hold your hair and rub your back
when you finish she gets up to throw the trash outside so the room doesn't stink
she hates being mad at you, but she hates upsetting you
"look, about what i said earlier; i'm sorry. i don't know what would happen, what i would do, if i lost you. i didn't mean to take it out on you."
you grab her hand and squeeze it lightly, "i know and i love you."
"i love you more."
but then you're leaning in to give her a kiss and she remembers five minutes ago when you were throwing up everything inside you
"i'll give you a kiss later…after we get those teeth cleaned."
ai audios:
i had more... but there's an upload limit
#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams x reader smut#ellie williams the last of us#ellie williams tlou2#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams fan fic#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams oneshot#modern!ellie williams#college!ellie williams#ellie williams one shot
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